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THE RANCH AT THE WOLVERINE
An Interesting and Intimate View of Pioneer Days on the Plains „ w Copyright, Little. Brow* * Cos.) t By £>. M . BOWER. (Copyright, Little. Browa A CO.) THE STRANGER INTRODUCES HIMSELF AS WARD WARREN WHO HAS A CLAIM ON MILL CREEK—MEMORIES HAUNT BILLY LOUISE, HAPPY MEMORIES Synopsis.—Marthy and Jase Meilke, pioneers, have for twenty years made a bare living out of their ranch at the Cove on Wolverine creek in the mountain range country of Idaho. Their neighbors, the MacDonalds, living several miles away, have a daughter, Billy Louise, now about nineteen years old, whom Marthy has secretly helped to educate. At the time the story opens Billy Louise is spending the afternoon with Marthy. A snowstorm comes up, and on her way home the girl meets an interesting stranger, who is Invited to stay over night at the MacDonald ranch. CHAPTER ll—Continued. — 2— “Then the chores aren’t done, I sup pose.' Billy Louise went over and took a lantern down from its nail, turning up the wick so that she could .llgnt it with the candle. “Go up to the fire and thaw out,” she invited the man. “We’ll have supper in a few minutes.” Instead he reached out and took the lantern from her as soon as she had lighted It. “You go to the fire your self,” he said. “I’ll do what’s neces sary outside.” “Why-y”— Billy Louise, her fingers still clinging to the lantern, looked up at him. He was staring down at her with that intent look she had objected to on the trail, but she saw his mouth and the little smile that hid just back of his lips. She smiled back without knowing It. “I’ll have to go along, anyway. There are cows to milk, and you couldn’t very well find the cow stable alone.” “Think not?” Together they went out again into the storm they had left so eagerly. Billy Louise showed him where was the pitchfork and the hay and then did the milking while he piled full the mangers. After that they went to gether and turned the shivering work horses into the stable from the corral where they huddled, rumps to the storm, and the inan lifted great fork fuls of hay and carried it into their stalls, while Billy Louise held the lan tern high over her head like a western Liberty. They did not talk much, ex cept when there was need for speech, but they were beginning to feel a lit tle glow of companionship by the time they were ready to fight their way against the blizzard to the house, Billy Louise going before with the lantern, while the man followed close behind, carrying the two pails of milk that was already freezing in little crystals to the tin. “I didn’t quite catch your name, mis ter,” Mrs. MacDonald said after they had begun the meal. “But take an other biscuit, anyway.” “Warren is my name,” returned the man, with that hidden smile because she dad never before given him any opportunity to tell it—“ Ward Warren. I’ve got a claim over on Mill creek.” Biliy Louise gave a little gasp and distractedly poured two spoonfuls of sugar in hei tea, although she hated it •sweetened. I’ve got to tell you why even at the price of digression. Long ago, when Billy Louise was twelve or so and lived largely in a dream world of her own, she had one day chanced upon a paragraph in a paper that had come from town wrapped around a package of matches. It was all about Ward V'arren. The name caught her fancy, and the text of the paragraph seized upon her imagination. Until school tilled her mind with other things she had built adventures without end in which Ward Warren was the central figure. Sometimes, when she rode in the hills. Ward Warren abducted her and led her into strange places, w'here she tried to shiver in honest dread. Cften and often, however, Ward War ren was a fugitive who came to her for help. Then she would take him to a cave and hide him. perhaps, or she would mount her horse and lead him by devious ways to safety, and upon some hilltop from which she could point out the route he must follow she would bid him a touching adieu and beseech him in the impossible lan guage of some old romancer to go and lead a blameless life. “Jase has got all gone feelings now, tnommie.” Billy Louise remarked irrel evantly during a brief pause and re lapsed into silence again. She knew that was good for at least five minutes of straight monologue with her mother in that talking mood. She finished her supper while Warren listened abstract edly to a complete biography of the Mollkes and ’earned all about Marthy’s energy and Jnse’s shiftlessness. "Ward Warren!" Billy Louis® was saying to herself. "Ward Warren! There couldn't possibly be two Ward Warrens; it’s such an odd name. Well!” Then she went mentally over that paragraph. She wished she did not remember every single word of it, but she did. And she was afraid to look at him after that, and she wanted to dreadfully. She felt as though he be longed to her. Why. he was her old playmate! And she had saved his life hundreds of times at immense risk to hers, and he had always been her de voted slave afterward and never failed to appear at the precise moment when she was beset by Indians or robbers or something and in dire need. The blood he had shed in her behalf! At that point Billy lionise startled her self and the others by suddenly laugh ing out loud at the memory of one time when Ward Warren had killed enough Indians to fill a deep washout so that he might carry her across to the other side! “is there anything funny about Jase Meilke dying, Billy Louise?" her moth er aked her In a perfectly shocked tone. “No. 1 was thinking, of something else.” She glanced at the man eying her so distrustfully from across the ta ble and gurgled again. It was terribly silly, but she simply conld not help seeing Ward Warren calmly filling that washout with dead Indians so that he might carry her across it in his arms. The more she tried to forget that the funnier it became. She ended by leav ing the table and retiring precipitately to her own tiny room in the lean-to where she buried her face as deep as it would go in a puffy pillow of wild duck feathers. He poor devil, could not be expected to know just what had amused her so. He did know chat it somehow Con or ed himself, however. He took up .is position mentally behind the wall of aloofness which stood between him self and an unfriendly world, and when Billy Louise came out later to help with the dishes be was sitting ab sorbed in a book. The next morning the blizzard raged, so that Warren stayed as a matter of course. Peter Howling Dog bad not returned, so Warren did the chores and would not let Billy Louise help with anything. “I wish we could get him to stay all winter instead of that Peter Howl ing Dog,” Mrs. MacDonald said anx iously after he had gone out. “I just know Peter’s off drinking. I don’t think he’s a safe man to have around, Billy Louise. I didn’t when you hired him. I haven’t felt easy a minute with him on the place. I wish you’d hire Mr. Warren, Billy Louise. He’s nice and quiet”— “And he's got a ranch of his own. He doesn’t strike me as a man who wants a job milking two cows and carrying slop to the pigs, mommie.” “Well, I’d feel a lot easier if we had him instead of that breed. Only we ain’t even got the breed half the time. This is the third time he’s disappeared in the two months we’ve had him. 1 really think you ought to speak to Mr Warren, Billy Louise.” “Speak to him yourself. You’re the one that wants him,” Billy Louise an swered somewhat sharply. She adored her mother, but if she had to run the ranch she did wish her njother would not interfere and give advice just at the wrong time. “Well, you needn’t be cross about it You know yourself that Peter can’t be depended on a minute. There he went off yesterday and never fed the pigs their noon slop, and I had to carry it out myself. And my lumbago has bothered me ever since, just like it was going to give me another spell. You can’t be here all the time, Billy Louise leastways you ain’t —and Peter”— “Oh, good gracious, mommie! I told you to hire the man if you want him. Only Ward Warren isn’t”— Ward Warren pushed open the door and looked from one to the other, his eyes two question marks. “Isn’t whatY” he asked and shut the door behind him with the air of one who is ready for anything. “Isn’t the kind of man who wants to hire out to do chores,” Billy Louise finished and looked at him straight. "Are you? Mommie wants to hire you.” “Oh, well, I was just about to ask for the job, anyway.” He laughed, and the distrust left his eyes. “Asa matter of fact. I was going over to Jim Larson’s to hang out for the rest of the winter and get away from the lonesomeness of the hills The old Turk’s a pretty good friend of mine. But it looks to me as if you two need ed something around that looks like a a man a heap more than Jim does. I know Peter Howling Dog to a fare you-well. You’ll be all to the good if he forgets *© come back. So if you’ll stake me to a meal now and then and a place to sleep I’ll be glad to see you through the winter or until you get some white man to take my place.” He took up the two water pails and waited, glancing from one to the other with that repressed smile which Billy Louise was beginning to look for in his face. Now that matters had approached the point of decision her mother stood looking at her helplessly, waiting for her to speak. Billy Louise drew her self up primly and ended by contra ’'' ''V 1 - —...J The Whistling Broke and He Began to Sing. dieting the action. She gave him a sidelong glance which he was least prepared to withstand, though, in jus tice to Billy Louise, she was absolute ly unconscious of its general effective ness and twisted her lips whimsically. “We’ll stake yon to a book, a ban 3ock and a bed if you want to stay, Ir. Warren.” she said quite soberly; "also to a pitchfork and an ax. If you like, and regular wages." His eyes went to her and steadied there with the intent expression in them. ‘Thanks. Cut out the wages and I’ll take the offer just as it stands " be told ner and pulled his hat farther down on his head. “She’s go ing to be one stormy night, lay-dees,” he added in quite another tone on his way to the door. “Five o’clock by the town clock, and al-ll's well!” This last in still another tone as be pushed out against the swooping wind and pulled the door shut with a slam. They heard him whistling a shrill, rol licking air on his way to the creek— at least it sounded rollicking the way he whistled it.” ‘That’s ‘The Old Chisholm Trail’ he’s whistling,” Billy Louise observed un der her breath, smiling reminiscently, “the very song I used to pretend he always sang when he came down the canyon to rescue me. But of course I knew all the time he’e a cowboy. It said so” — The whistling broke, and he began to sing at the top of a clear, strong lunged voice an old, old trail song beloved of punchers the West over. “What did you say, Billy Louise? I’m sure it’s a comfort to have him here, and you see be was glad and willing—” But Billy Louise was holding the door open half an inch, listening and slipping back into the child world wherein Ward Warren came singing down the canyon to rescue her. The words came gustily from the creek down the slope: “No chaps, no slicker, and a-pourln’ down rain. And I swear by the Lord I’ll never night herd again, Coma to yl youpy, youpy-a. youpy-a. Coma to yi youpy, youpy-a 1 “Feet in the stirrups and seat in the saddle, I hung and rattled with them long-horn cattle, Coma to yl”— “Do shut the door, Billy Louisel What you want to stand there like that for? And the wind freezing ev erything inside! I can feel a terrible draft on my feet and ankles, and you know what that leads to!” So Billy Louise closed the door and laid another alder root on the coals in the fireplace the while her mind was given over to dreamy speculations, and the words of that old trail song ran on in her memory, though she could no longer hear him singing. Her mother talked on about Peter and the storm and this man who had ridden straight from the land of day dreams to her door, but the girl was not listening. “Now, ain’t you relieved yourself that he’s going to stay?” Billy Louise, kneeling on the hearth and staring abstractedly into the fire, came back with a jerk to reality. The little smile that had been in her eyes and on her lips fled back with the dreams that had brought It. She gave her shoulders an impatient twitch and got up. “Oh, I guess he’ll be more agreeable to have around than Peter,” she ad mitted taciturnly, which was as close to her real opinion of the man as a mere mother might hope to come. When spring came at last and Ward Warren rode regretfully baca to his claim on Mill creek he was not at all the morose Ward Warren who had ridden down to the Wolverine that stormy night in January. The distrust had left his eyes, and that guarded re moteness was gone from his manner. He thought and he planned as other men thought and planned and looked into the future eagerly ana dreamed dreams of his own, dreams that brought the hidden smile often to his lips and his eyes. Still, the thing those dreams were built upon was yet locked tight in his heart, and not even Billy Louise, whose instinct was so keen and so sure in all things else, knew anything of them or of the bright hued hope they were built upon. CHAPTER 111. Marthy Buries Her Dead and Great* Her Nephew. JASE did not move or give his cus tomary, querulous grunt when Mar thy nudged him at daylight, one morning In mid April. Marthy gave an other poke with her elbow and lay still, numbed by a sudden dread. She moved cautiously out of the bed and half across the cramped room before she turned her head toward him. Then she stood still and looked and looked, her hard face growing each moment more pinched and stony and gray. Jase had died while the coyotes were yapping their dawn song up on the rim of the cove. He lay rigid under the coarse, gray blanket, the flesh of his face u>awn close to the bones, his skimpy, gray beard tilted upward. Marthy’s jaw set into a harsher out line than ever. She dressed with slow, heavy movements and went out and fed the stock. In stolid calm she did the milking and turned out the cows into the pasture. She gathered an apron full of chips and started a fire, just as she had done every morning for twenty nine years, and she put the coffeepot on the greasy stove and boiled the brew of yesterday, which was also her habit. She sat for some time with her head leaning upon her grimy hand and stared unseeingly out upon a peach tree in full bloom and at a pair of busy robins who had chosen a convenient crotch for their nest. Finally she rose stiffly, as if she had grown older within the last hour, and went outside to the place where she had been mending the irri gating ditch the day before. She knock ed the wet sand off the shovel she had left sticking in the soft bank and went out of the yard and up the slope toward the rock wall. On a tiny, level place above the main ditch and just under the wall Marthy began to dig. setting her broad, flat foot uncompromisingly upon the shoulder of the shovel and sending it deep into the yellow soil. She worked slowly and methodically and steadily, just as she did everything else. When she had dug down as deep as she could and still manage to climb out and had the hole wide enough and long enough, she got awkwardly to the grassy surface and sat for a long while upon a rock, star ing lumbly at the gaunt, brown hills across the river. She returned to the cabin t last, and, with the manner of one who dreads do ing what must be done, she went in where Jase lay stiff and cold under the blankets. Early that afternoon Marthy went staggering up the slope, wheeling Jase's body before her on the creaky, home made wheelbarrow. In the same harsh, primitive manner in which they both and lived Marthy buried her dead. And though in life she had given him few words save in command or upbraiding, with never a hint of ’ove to sweeten the days for either, yet she went whimper ing away from that grave. She broke off three branches of precious peach blossoms and carried them up the slope. She stuck them upright in the lumpy soil over J&se’s head and stood there # long while with tear streaked face, staring down at the grave and at the nodding pink blossoms. • Billy Louise rode singing down the rocky trail through the deep, narrow gorge to where the hawthorn and choke cherries hid the opening to the cove. From there to the pink drift of peach bloom against the dull brown of the bluff Blue galloped angrily, leaving deep, black printa in the soft green of the meadow. So they came headlong upon Marthy, just as she was knocking the yellow clay of the grave from her irrigating shovel against the pole fence of her pigpen. “Why, Marthy!” Once before fn her life Billy Louise had seen Marthy’s chin quivering like that and big, slow tears sliding down the network of lines on Marthy’s leathery cheeks. With a painful slump her spirits went heavy with her sympathy. “Marthy !” She knew without a word of expla nation just what had happened. From Marthy’s bent shoulders she knew and from her tear stained face and from the yellow soil clinging still to the shovel in her hand. The wide eyes of Billy Louise sent seeking glances up the slope where the soil was yellow; went to the long, raw ridge under the wall, with the peach blossoms standing pitifully awry upon the western end. Her eyes filled with tears. “Ob, Mar thy ! When was it?” “In the night, some time, I guess.” Marthy’s voice had a harsh huskiness. “He was—gone —when I woke up. Well —he’s better off than I be. I dunno what woulda become of him if I’d went first.” There, at last, was a note of tenderness, stifled though it was and fleeting. “Git down, Billy Louise, and come in. I been kinda lookin' for yuh to come ever sence the weather opened up. How’s your maw?” “What are you going to do now, Mar thy?” Billy Louise was perfectly capa ble of opening a conversational door even when it had been closed decisively in her face. “You can’t get on here alone, you know. Did you send for that nephew? If you haven’t you must hire somebody till —” “He’s cornin’. That letter you sent over last month was from him. I dunno when he’ll git here; he’s liable to come most any time. I ain’t going to hire nobody. Charlie Fox, his name is. I hope he turns out a good worker. I’ve never had a chance to git ahead any, but if Charlie ’ll jest take holt I’ll meb by git some comfort outa life yit.” “He ought to, I’m sure. And every one thinks you’ve done awfully well, Marthy. What can I do now? Wash the dishes and straighten things up, I guess.” “You needn’t do nothin’ you ain’t a mind to do, Billy Louise. I don’t want you to think you got to slop around washin’ my dirty dishes. I’m goin’ on down into the medder and work on a ditch I’m puttin’ in. You jest do what you’ve a mind to.” She picked up the shovel and went off down the jungly path, herself the ugliest object in the cove, where she bad created so much beauty. Billy Louise sat down on the rock where Marthy had rested after digging the grave and, with her chin in her two cupped palms, stared out across the river at the heaped bluffs und down at the pink and white patch of fruit trees. ELBA’S VALUABLE IRON MINES Some of Purest Metal in the World Is Found Here, Although in Small Quantities. “It must be admitted that the Eng lish have not been very generous,” re marked Napoleon as he surveyed his kingdom of Elba from the top of its highest peak. Yet a man more modest than the great Corsican might have been well content with this fair and rich little island, to say nothing of the title of king. Elba today has come into anew im portance, owing to the war stimulated values of its iron mines. Some of the purest iron ore in the world is found here in beautiful crystals, although the quantity is not great enough to be of any wide significance. The little isle includes all manner of little industries in its 10 by 12 mile confines. On the lower slopes there are fertile little valleys, and along the beach a tiny fishing industiy manages to thrive. Besides the ! ron mines there are famous stone quarries, and the scenery is rugged and imposing on a miniature scale. Had Napolecn been a philosopher he might well have found contentment here. But Napoleon was a general and a builder; instead of settling down to en joy what the gods had left him. he in stituted all manner of projects for de velopment in his tiny kingdom, and even conducted from here his least known campaign. Across the blue wa ters to the south of Elba is visible the smaller island of Pianosa, low and fertile. Pianosa was deserted in those times on account of the depredations of Mediterranean pirates. Napoleon directed an expedition of 40 men against the corsairs with the object of adding Pianosa to his kingdom. He probably would have led the pirates a hard life had not the opportunity for escape presented Itself that led to France and Waterloo. A Caddy Story. The gentleman was learning to play golf and it had been too much for the composure of his caddy. The caddy had made valiant efforts at first, but by the third hole he was helpless with mirth. The gentleman fixed him with a cold eye and said: “What do you think Fll give you on your card If you are so silly and gig gle all the time? Do you think you'll got a ‘good’ ?” “No.” replied the chortling caddy. •Til get a V. G.” ‘V. G.! I suppose that stands for very good.” snapped the infuriated gen tleman. “No, sir. Y. G.. very giggly.” said The abandoned little caddy, rolling on the ground. Many Millionaires Were Poor. An authority on finance has been In vestigating American millionaires, and finds that all except twenty startej Ufe as poor bova. WAUSAU PILOT She was trying, as the young will al ways try, to solve the riddle of life, and she was baffled and unhappy because she could not find any answer at all that pleased both her ideals and her reason. And then she heard a man’s voice lifted up in riotous song and she turned her head toward the opening of the gorge aud listened, her eyes bright ening while she waited. Ward came into sight through the lit tle meadow, riding slowly, with bofah bands clasped over the horn of the sad dle, bis hat tilted back on his head and b'! whole attitude one of absolute con tent with life. He saw Billy Louise almost as soon as she glimpsed him, tind she bad been watching that bit of road quite closely. He flipped the reins to one side and turned from the trail to ride straight up the slope to where she was. Billy Louise, with a self reproachful glance at the grave, ran down file slope to meet him—an unexpected welcome, which made Ward’s heart leap in his chest. "Oh, Ward, for heaven's sake, don’t be singing that come-all-ye at the top of your voice, like that. Don’t you”— “Now I was given to understand that you liked , that same come-all-ye. Have you been educating your musical taste in the last week, Miss William Louise?” Ward stopped his horse before her and with his hands still clasped over the saddle horn looked down at her with that bidden smile—and something else. “No, I haven’t. I don't have to edu cate myself to the point where I know the ‘Chisholm Trail’ isn’t a proper kind of funeral hymn, Ward Warren.” Billy Louise glanced over her shoulder and lowered her voice instinctively, as we all do when death has come close and stopped. “Jase died last night; that’s his grave up there. Isn’t it perfectly pitiful? Poor old Marthy was here all She Sat Down on the Rock Where Marthy Had Rested. solitary alone with him. And—Ward, she dug that grave her ownself and took him up and buried him! And, Ward, she—she wheeled him up in the —wheelbarrow ! She had to, of course. She couldn’t carry him. But isn’t it awful?” Her hands were up, patting and smoothing the neck of his horse, and her face was bent to hide the tears that stood in her eyes and the quiver , of her mouth. Several minutes they stood there talking, while Billy Louise patted the horse absently, aud Ward looked down at her aud did uot miss one little light or shadow in her face. Charlie Fox arrives on the scene and helps Marthy run the place after the death of Jase. Along comes a mystery. UNITY IN FILIPINO TRIBES Recent “Maulud” Held in Department of Mindanao and Sulu Was Evi dence of Existing Harmony. Commenting on the prevalent belief that the islands need a speed national ization of the different sections and a rooting out of sectional and tribal feel ing, the Philippine Review' says edi torially : “While as a matter of fact we have to acknowledge that sectional feeling seemingly exists in the islands, its ex istence is not of basic character. For the elements of unity are in actual ex istence, and sectional feeling will only seemingly last while no actual inter course between the sectional groups of the islands takes place. It is, there fore, but a matter of common educa tion or educational intercourse, not real lack of spirit of nationality; and with the present government efforts to provide the people with good popular education, this so-called lack of na tional spirit will shortly be overcome.” Perhqps no better evidence of the harmony existing among different tribes and factions could be offered the skeptic than the recent “Maulud” held in the department of Mindanao and Sulu. The Maulud corresponds to the Christian Christmas, being the celebration of the birth of Mohammed. It consists in ceremonies lasting two days during w hieh there is much feast ing and chanting by “imams” (priests) and lady singers. The last Maulud was celebrated at the residence of the governor of Sulu. All the chiefs and every other Mo hammedan of prominence. 100 imams, 30 lady singers, 3.000 Mohammedans, the government officials, and all the civilians of any distinction attended the monster feast. Mohammedans and Christians, Americans and Filipinos, dressed in beautiful Moro costumes, forgot their religious, social and po litical differences, and threw them selves heart and soul into the cele bration of this greatest of Mohamme dan fiestas. No one could have wit nessed the scene without being con- j vinced of the oneness of the Moham median and Christian Filipinos, and I the hearty good feeling between Amer-1 icans and Filipinos. Of Small Account. “Over 2,000,000 iron crosses hav' been given out by the German author-' lties.” We doubt if the German sol-' diers place any great value on these! crosses. We recall a good-natured old i German who spent the declining years! of his life in Toledo. One day. with; due mod-sty. he showed an iron cross : he had won in the Franco-Prusslan' war. “You may have It.” he said quietly. “It means nothing to me.”— Toledo Blade. In order that their soldiers boys may have a plentiful supply of clga-; rettes. thousands of women in Franc* have giver nn smoking. (TO BE CONTINUED.) WtVENK ■4VMAiff<3iAH^aßoaasß ANNETTE’S DREAM. “It was the night before Christ mas,” said Daddy, “and little Annette hud put a note by the fireplace for Santa Claus and hung up her stock ing, and then had gone off to bed. “She did not believe she would be able to sleep at all, for the night be fore Christmas was such a very excit ing night—quite the most exciting lo the whole year. None of the other three hundred and sixty-four nights were anything compared to Christmas eve. “She stayed very still in bed and she really did try quite hard to go to sleep. Of course she would have been very happy if she had stayed awake and seen Sauta Claus when he ar rived. “But when her mother had told her that Santa Claus was on the look-out for little open eyes and that he did not like to be seen while he was do ing his work. He wanted to hurry and he wanted too, to surprise the children when they awoke in the morn ing. If they saw everything that was happening their fun would not be nearly so great. “So Annette really closed her eyes and yet she felt so very wide awake. Somehow she just couldn’t help it. It seemed as though a very long time went by and at last Annette heard strange sounds on the roof. “ ‘Ah,’ she said to herself delighted ly, ‘I am sure I hear Santa Claus and the reindeer. I am sure he must be coming down my chimney now. “More sounds on the roof and then the sounds were heard nearer and nearer. Now Annette’s stocking was She Saw Him Turn His Back. hung in the nursery by the fireplace and she wondered if she would not be able to see everything. “Oh, this was wonderful and she wondered if she could keep her eyes close and still see! Yes, she thought her eyes must be closed. She wasn’t fiuite sure, but no matter, she was going to have the most thrilling time. She was going to watch Santa Claus at work. “At last there was a terrific noise in the chimney and soon she saw Santa Claus! There he was, just like his pictures, so wonderfully jolly and merry and gay! She wasn’t in the least scrap disappointed. No, he w r as far more perfect even than his pic tures. His beard was so white, his cheeks so red and his eyes so twink ling. “And his smile! The most wonder ful smile she had ever seen in all her life. She wondered if the worst cross patch in the world could have kept from smiling if that smile had been seen. She felt herself all smiles. But she must keep very quiet! “Santa Claus was talking to him self, but Annette didn’t hear him. ‘So the Dream King is playing a joke on me, eh?’ he chuckled. And the Dream King said, ‘Never mind, Annette, this is really Santa Claus!’ “Annette didn’t know quite why she had heard someone telling her such a thing, when she knew it anyway. As if anyone could have mistaken Santa Claus! “ ‘But I mustn’t let her see w hat I am putting hi the stocking—that will never do,’ said Santa Claus. And she saw him turn his back and bend over her stocking and at last hang It up again all filled with somethin t very much like a doll poking out of the top. “ ‘She must have a surprise, Dream King,’ said Santa Claus. “ ‘That is all right,’ answered the Dream King. ‘I simply wanted her to see you in her dream. And her dream is really true because you are here, and she is seeing a perfect picture of you. That’s my magic camera that does that. I’m taking pictures of you every minute and they pass before Annette’s eyes. You did not want me to take a picture of you as you filled the stocking, so I took your back and she saw a picture of your red coat and of you bending over the stocking.’ “ ‘Ha, ha,’ laughed Santa Claus. ‘You’re a pretty smart old fellow, Dream King. So now the little girl is seeing me through your dream pic tures, and your pictures are just as clear and true as can be, eh Dream King?’ “ ‘They are perfect,’ said the Dream King. “ ‘Good,’ said Santa Claus. ‘But I can’t stop to have any more pictures taken here tonight as I’ve too much to do.’ But how delighted Annette was to have had such perfect dream pictures!” Truest Philosophy. The man who is thankful for the most in life has the truest philosophy. Lesson in Punctuation. The teacher was giving the juvenile class a lesson in punctuation. "Wnat is that?” she asked of a small pupil, pointing to a period. “That,” answered the little one, “is the lid off of an TV’ The Explanation. Teacher —Brazil stretches the far thest of all the South American coun tries. Reddy Backrow —I suppose that’s because she’s got so much rubber in her. Friend (Worth Choosing. It’s a great deal more important for you to be a friend worth choosing, than to have a friend whom you have chosen because of what he can do for you. Be Grateful. Be grateful not only for what you receive, but also for your share in the world’s work. Our Many Blessings. It is not until we begin to count our blessings that we realize how many we have. DENTISTS - '■ ■■■■ —— C. W. CHUBBUCK ▼▼VVVXTWvrw' Dentist Olllom—Lawrence Block. Noe. 515-917 Third Street DR. CONLIN Dentist Office Over NATIONAL GERMAN AMftfU CAN BANK Telephone 1711. DR. G. G. ANDERSON Dentist Office Over Mueller'* Jewelry Btoi*e. DR. A. H. LEMKE Dentist Office—Bl2 South FI ret iT renin, over Albers' woe* side drug stores CHIROPRACTIC N. RIGHTMAN, D. C Chiropractic 9to 11:S0 A. M. 2tosV. M. 6:80 to (P. If. OVER 5 AND 10 CENT STORE Telephone 1525 GREEN BROS. Proprietors City 'Bus and Baggage Line Cor. Second and Jefferson Sts. WAUSAU, Wl& The Only Transfer Comnanj In S*e City Telephone 1022. " will occupy your entire time when you become a regular advertiser in TH!2 PAPER. Unless you have sn antipathy for labor of this kind, call us up and we’ll be glad to come and talk over our proposition. CHAS. H. WEGNER Largest General Store in Wassan Groceries, Clothing, Crockery, Hay, Feed, Flour, Produce, Etc. k Stock tf VWtk Ifii, Bitter mi Bara PredeM Alvaji a laai Y0UR...... PRINTING...... If it is worth doing at all, it’s worth doing well. First class work at all times is our motto. Go After Business in a business way—the advertising way. An ad in this paper offers the maximum service at the mini mum cost. It reaches the people of the town you want to reach. Try It—lt Pays ....TRY THE WANT ADS.... THEY ARE SURE WINNERS BUSINESS DIRECTORY ATTORNEYS Brown L. A. Pratt PraC Oenrteb 1 BROWN, PRADT & GENRIKH LAWYERS Praettse In all oomrtA Loana, Afc traota and ColtacUoa* OOtM erar rtrat National Bank. KREUTZER, BIRD, OKOHESKI & PtiCHHER ATTORNEYS AT LAW, corner Fourth and Scott streets. In Wiaeonaln Valley Tnul building. Money to loan In large or Email amount*. Collection! a specialty. EDGAR & JOHNSON ATTORNEYS McCroasen Block, Rooms 1-2-3 Phone 3123 WAUSAU. WISCONSIN M W. SWEET ATTORNEY AT LAW Ofrtce in First NatT Bank Bldg. TtUMO REGNER & RINGLE ATTOHNJCVS AT LAW. Loana oat Collection! a specialty. Office SIX Third street. FRED GENRICH Attorney at Law. Office In First National Bank Building. SMITH & LEICHT ATTORNEYS AT LAW 511 Third St. Phone 1711 PHYSICIANS Dr. Harriet A. Whitehead OSTEOPATHIC PHYSICIAN Fifteen Years’ Experience Thirteen Years in Wausau Hours 9 a. m. to 12; 2 to sp. m. Spencer Bldg.. 606 1-2 Third Street Telephone 1660 MRS. CLARA BOETTCHER OBBTETRIX Night Calls Attended To 620 McClellan St Phone 1697 Dr. D. Sauerhering Office 402 First Street First Door Nortb of Public Library Telephone No. 1684 Architect Telephone 3229 A. PARSONS ARCHITECT 612 Weston Ave. Wausau, Wia. DRAY LINE C. H. Wegner, Prop. All kinds of light and henry Gray ing, household goods moved, freight delivered, etc. Rates the Lowest end Bervlce Prompt.'