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THE CROSSVILLE CHRONICLE
I lift I UIUJUO Novelized from Eugene Waiter's Drama by the some nairid. By WEBSTER DENISON (Copyright A Z. McClurg&Co.,1914) 'NOPSIS. 14 6 Mr. anil Mrs. Rej nobis move into tbelr new bungalow $SO0 down, balance same as rent! on Statui Nltnd. Dick Meade, newspaper man, ey n!c, socialist, takes din ner and .spends the nlnlit 1 i.-lt warns Bob against .John Brand, Bob's old school mate, now a meinoer of "the system." Who Is expected to 8. Brand, Hudson Cement com pan j president, offers B ib $40,000 to it his position as chemist with the I'nlted Construction company to cheat the specifications for cement work on the Pei os River dam. Jane overhearing-, asks Bob to accept. His refusal, ii the face of their poverty, chills her. Brand wiles Jane Into a conspiracy to make Bob earn" the $40,000. He takes her for an auto ride and they are seen by Dick. She receives IflO 'conspirator's money" by muil from Brand, and In the sudden change from skimping economies and unpaid bills to ready money loses all sense of true moral values. The clandes tine auto rides continue. Jane tries In vain to Influence Bob to accept Brand's offer. I ilck arrives unusually early on his regular Wednesday visit. On the heels of Bob who arrives unexpectedly, come Mrs. Collins. Jane's chaperon, ar rayed for a ride, and Brand, with Ids auto. The four actors nre together on a stage set for tragedy. Jane explains the conspiracy. Boh asaln refuses to steal the $46,000, and Jane leaves him for good, unless he reconsiders. Bob buries his con science and Jane gets her fine feathers. They become social friends of Mr. and Mrs. Brand. Dick disappears from their life. Boh begins to tipple. Bob begins to pay the price. Dick becomes a "muck raker" and prospers. He learns from Henning a broker, that Brand has double-crossed Boii In the stock market and that Bob Is financially "wiped out." He goes to Bob's new home. CHAPTER XX. Light in Darkness. After several Inquiries Dick found his friend's home and rang the bell. Frieda answered it, but In the dim light on the veranda and because of her wondrous change from a slattern ly domestic to a smart maid, he did pgmze ner. , "Is Mr. Reynolds In? "No, sir," Frieda informed him, "but he may come any minute." "Is his wife home?" "No, sir, she's gone out to dinner and 1 think she's going oyer to New York. But Mr. Reynolds didn't expect to go." "If you don t mind, I'll wait," eaid Dick. He went in. "My name Is Meade Richard Meade," he added without looking at the girl. "You may have heard Mr. Reynolds speak of me. He took off his coat and as he hand ed it to her, stared In a quizzical way. At last the truth dawned on him. "Why, it's Frieda," he exclaimed "Bless me, what a change." The girl, not oblivious or averse to the inflection in his surprised greeting, courtesied an acknowledgement. "Change Is right, Mr. Dick. You didn't know me, did you?" "I should say I didn't," he concurred, with a emile. "Why, you're all dressed up like one of those talking dolls." She laughed and turned around for full inspection. "The very latest model," she in formed him. "Do you like it?" "It's a dream," the young writer ac knowledged. "But never go back to Staten Island with that rig on. There are 1,200 soldiers at the fort over there and tho government doesn't want them all to desert at once." "Don't worry, Mr. Dick, I'm not go ing back to Staten Island. Mrs. Rey nolds gave me a chance when she came over here and you bet I took it. It took me some time to get on to my self, but I did at last and now I'm done with that sort of thing, believe me!" Frieda's appearance confirmed her boaat. Nearly an hour passed. He read an article or two in magazines that were littered about the table. There were books too, all of the lighter sort re cent fiction, and some of the higher class humorous papers. Everything in the Reynolds home, go much as Dick had seen of it, be spoke the idler. Everything bespoke ease of body and unwillingness to tax the mind. A quick step on the veranda cut short his musings. Bob threw open the door. At the sight of hie visitor he rushed forward with outstretched hands. "Why, Dick," he shouted, and then he fairly hugged him. "You're the last man I expeteo. to see here and the one I'd rather see most. You're kept away pretty long, but it't better late than never." "Wall, you sort of got out of my cJasu, Bob," replied his friend, reepond- ' ing to the handshake with a grip at j tirm as Iron. "And I've been away a I good deal. too. Europe and all around." Roynoldl threw off his coat and car ried it to the rack. "Kurope?" he said as he turned, j 'What for, the paper?" "No. I haven't been with the paper for some time. Bob. Left it shortly well, shortly after I taw you !.st. I'm with the World Awake now. Quite a Job. Things have been looking up a bit." Reynolds looked him over carefully and fondly. "So I would judge," he acquiesced. "Yt.u look it. Prosperous, eh?" "From my point of view, yes," said Dick. .Maybe not from jours aDd Brand'i." Reynolds frowned. Mention of Ihe millionaire's name irritated him. "Don't rub it In, old man," he begged. "Don't bring him In the first thing. Let's have a little talk just about our selves. Wait, I haven't asked you what you'd have." "Water for mine. Dob. That's been my program for a year. Nothing like it." Reynolds pushed a button. "The devil you say," he answered as he turned to hie friend. "I can't say the same for myself. I like a little bit now and then, and it's Cold out to night. 1 feel chilled." "Bring some brandy and ice water," he ordered, as the maid entered. "And, Frieda, bring a large glass for Mr. Meade." Bob took out his cigarette case. "Sit down, Dick," he urged as he ten dered the case. "You haven't cut these out, too, have you?" "No, not yet. I've tried cigars, but it's no go. The little pills have their charm, Bob, and they're one thing I place before dignity." They lighted their cigarettes and puffed for a moment in silence. Some element of restraint seemed to hover over them despite the sincere friend liness of their greeting. Reynolds spoke first. "Dick," he said, "I'm mighty glad to see you and you know it. But tell me just one thing. You haven't come to lecture, have you?" "Why," the other inquired with a laugh, "do you need it?" "I might need it, but I don't want It, and least of all from you. Let's keep off that stuff, will you?" "Maybe. But you seem to be hunt ing trouble. Wait till I start some." Reynolds poured out some of the brandy that Fried brought. Dick, netra "ffih. 'c' i jjdgmenl.Qfu tTtte soe- -wajit'iJbmPr. -d-B.iit.Q.f tnnl hls IftMiiiiiuUBUFrt ecohed from direct at- your icebox and you'll be hungry." watching; saw perceptibly. Evidently there was something more than the cold that made the stimulant welcome. The old Bob of the bungalow days who worked methodically and epoke with quiet meaning was no more. Here was a product of the game, or rather, a victim of it. But a man who had lost $40,000 in a day, which was, per haps, his all, could not be expected to walk a tight rope. This Dick knew and he felt the commiseration that he longed to express. But he bided his time. Somehow he didn't feel much more at his ease than Bob did. "Where's Mrs. Reynolds?" he asked. "Do yotT expect her home?" Again Reynolds' browe contracted. but he forced a smile. "Mrs. Reynolds? You're rather for mal, aren't you? Jane's gone to the theater with the Brands and a party She won't be home till after midnight. That reminds me," he added. "I haven't had any dinner. How about you?" "I had a late luncheon," Dick re plied. "Don't bother about me. If you're going to have something 1 might take a bite. Something like one of our old time feeds, Bob." His host pushed the button again. "Got anything to eat in the house, Frieda?" "Certainly, sir. But we didn't hard ly expect you'd be home. I'm afraid it won't be much to offer Mr. Dick." "Mr. Dick doesn't want much, Frieda, and I don't either. Just fix up some coffee and something cold." He turned and poured more brandy. "I feel a little nervous tonight, Dick," he said apologetically. "Sorry you won't join me, but I wouldn't urge for the world." They went into the dining room. The scant board that Frieda had predicted had developed Into quite a feast. There was cold beef and turkey with a de licious salad, ripe olives, caviar, white wine, and beside Dick's place a bottle of beer. He smiled as he pushed it aside. 'It's a shame to discourage Frieda's thoughtfulness," he said. "Beer would certainly go fine with this board." Reynolds' ill fortune had not affect ed his appetite, or if it had the brandy had restored it. He ate ravenously and urged Dick to keep him company. They smoked cigarettes over their coffee and went back to the fireplace. "Quite a cozy nook- out here, Dick," said his host. "What do you think of the place?" Without waiting for a reply he added. "I guess you'll have to allow me one after-dinner sip." He drank the brandy at a gulp, and called Frieda for more water. "Did you know her, Dick?" he asked. ' !ndi -lUnf the g!rl as Bhe went out. "After a good look, yes. She seem i to have felt the beneficent aid of money , Hob. If it had the tame eifect on us all i mil t be les opposed to it. Some people can stand prosper. ty and some CM t." "Uh, 1 don't know." Reynolds coun tered. "I can't say that 1 6ee such im provement, even in her case. 1 used to j like her funny little braids and her crude ways. Sometimes 1 feel like kt M a tii-r rv Mari nfi tho uiiv hIia v.as over there, but I suppose sho couldii't do it. Once we kick away the props, the scene is gone and we can't call it back, except in mind. That chain of thought's been hitting me hard lately." He walked over and put his hands on his friend's shoulders. "In fnct, Dick," he continued, "If you want to know it, I with to God I ! was back in Staten Island. Back In I that stifling laboratory in Bowling j Green. Back anywhere where there are men and something to do. He turned away and paced the floor. "Yea," he cried, in strained, piteous tones, "I must have work. Work Work and sleep, or 1 shall go insane!' He reeled and pointed to the decan ter. "That's held me up, Dick! Up or down, whichever you call it. But it can't go on! 1 want a change, a man's life." Then, as thought of the day's disaster flashed across his mind, he turned hunted eyes to the journalist and sank down into his chair. "But 1 guess the change is coming now, old man, I guess" he swept a pointing hand about the richly furnished room "I guess I'm through with this." The realization that he was now an absolute failure and that in the climax of his failure he confronted the man who predicted it had wrought upon Bob until he collapsed, but he was not ready for complete surrender. As Dick rushed to him he straightened up and pushed his friend away. "No," he said, "I don't want the lee ture not yet. I just felt a little wobbly in the presence of a real friend, but I'll stick it out. Sit down, Dick, I want to know about you. I heard you bought the bungalow. Are you still over there?" Young Meade yielded to the pathetic entreaty and went back to his chair "Yes," he answered, as he resumed his seat, "still there." He saw hie worst fears were just! fled. Rob had reaped the full guerdon of his mistake. But in the depth of his disgrace he rebelled against acknowl tacrV'js a mai shrinks from his sur geon's knife. Dick chose a subtler way. "You wouldn't know the little shack, Bob," he continued. "I put a wing on It and had it painted up and stained. Brought my mother up from Ohio and she thinks it's great. Guess It's been a little lonesome for her, though. I went across the pond last spring and was gone most of the summer. But I had a man to keep up the garden and I bought back some of the chickens you sold to Collins. There are a few of them pecking around now and opce in a while they lay an egg or two. We have quite a time of it, mother and I, and I guess we are both reconciled. The place is all paid for, too, Bob." "Great! You must have prospered. I wish I was back there with you. Maybe you'd take a boarder now. What would you say if I asked you to?" "What, with this mansion and all this junk? I'd think you were laugh ing at me." "Laughing," he echoed. "Why, I don't know what a real laugh means." He came around to the table. "I'm going to take just one more drink, Dick. Then I'm going to ask you something." He drained the glass and looking down: "What brought you around tonight? It wasn't just to be sociable, or you'd have come before. What was It?" "Suppose the answer involved a lec ture?" Dick asked. He smiled encour agingly, however, and added briskly: "But it doesn't, Bob. To tell you the truth, I have heard that you've been up against it and today, by accident, I learned what you've been up against." "Somebody's been telling you fairy tales," Reynolds retorted with an air of assurance. "Do I look like a pau per?" He was calm enough, but a student of fj.cial expression would have seen premonitory symptoms of a sinister apprising. Dick, unawed, ignored his question. "No, they're not fairy tales," he per sisted, "they're cold, hard, Immutable facts. I don't wonder at your recourse to that stuff." He pointed to the bot tle. "Never mind the sermon, Dick. What do you know, or what have you heard?" "I know that you're broke; that to day they left you flat. Sheared you and trimmed you and ehaved you. You don't have to affirm, or deny it, but I know. Now you know why I'm here." "Who told you that?" "Your broker. Is that good enough?" "My broker? You mean to say that Henning told a stranger my private affairs my confidential dealings ftltn him?" "I'm not a stranger. Bob, and confi dential business is ouly confidential while ;. ou have money. When jou'rt? cleaned it s different. No, 1 don't mean that." he inttrjected. "1 lou t want to iub it In on Henning. I heard part of the story from another source and then 1 wormed it out of him. 1 hap pened to do Henning a favor once and when I told him I was a friend of yours he didn t feel so much reluctance about confessing up. I know what you lost and you know, but there its something you are not so well informed about. You don't happen to know , do you, that your munificent friend Mr. Brand won about two hundred thousand dol lars ou the stock you lost on and that your forty thousand is comfortably re posing in the Eastern National bank tonight to his credit?" Infinitesimal is the difference be tween love and hate; in the lapse of a second the coward becomes the fear less hero; despair is but the herald of desperation, and hi the brief moment that Reynolds sat digesting the full force of the reporter's words he changed from the crushed and hope less puppet and sat erect, vibrant, wide-eyed stripped of his ass' skin. He had been buying the stock of the Consolidated Wire company on the advice of Brand. He had talked to Brand over the telephone the day be fore and Brand had given him no warn ing of the collapse. Consolidated Wire had dropped 15 points and Brand had added a fat portion to hie fortune. Well, Brand would do the explaining. Dick, having done his worst, was now all commiseration. He had not come to taunt, but to help. He went to Bob's side and put a hand on his shoulder. His voice rang with sincere solicitude. "Come on, old man," he begged, "and net out of this. Close up here tomorrow and start again. Tell Jane the truth and come over to the bunga low with mother and me. It'll work out all right. You've had your fling among your would-be patricians and you've failed. What do you say Bob? Will you do It? Will you come back with me?" He stood with his arms outstretched in mute appeal, but Reynolds raised his hands in deprecation. "It's too late, Dick," he answered. "If I wanted to I couldn't do It now. I've got to stay and fight It out." "Fight it out! With what, Bob? Why, you were beaten before you started. Next thing you know they'll "They've done that already, Dick, but' I'll fight, just the same." He jumped to his feet and grasped the writer's arm with trembling hand. "I tell you I've got to fight, Dick You think you know the worst. You know only half of It. I signed an overdraft for $10,000 today and it's gone through The bank telephoned me this after noon and I've got to raise the money or go to Jail. But I won't go to Jail. Don't worry. 1 know the man that'll keep me out of It. He's coming here tonight and when he leavee I'll have another grubstake. I've been bought, Dick; bought but I haven't been paid for." (TO BE CONTINUED.) VAST INDUSTRY IN URUGUAY Millions of Pounds of Jerked Beef Are Exported From South American Country Annually. Something over a hundred years ago the hacendados (ranchmen) of Uru guay complained to the government that over 450,000 head of cattle were being killed annually for their hides alone. The carcasses were thrown to the dogs, or left on the rolling pampas for the vultures to devour. Beef in Uruguay was so plentiful that it was something of a nuisance evidently. Of course that day has passed, but they still have cattle enough down there to convert some 700,000 head Iv.tc 113, 000,000 pounds of jerked beef in one year, most of which is sold in Brazil, Cuba, Porto Rico, and other tropical countries. Perhaps but few people know that the first great factory for the production of beef extract known to the world was established at Fray Bentos, a little city on the Uruguay river about 100 miles above Buenos Aires, the cosmopolitan capital of An gentina, and that it is still operating. Fray Bentos has been called the great est kitchen in the world. On some days 2,500 head of cattle are slaugh tered, then treated so as to get the finest meat from them, the bones and ribs, the intestines, tails, sinews, hoofs, and other parts being reserved for their various uses. The company Is organized with a system of help to the employes, for improving their phys ical, material and moral welfare. It maintains an almost model city around its factory, and has a reputation for enterprise and fair dealing which gives it an enviable place In the busi ness world. San Francisco Argonaut Who Has Not Observed It? The total depravity of Inanimate things. Katherine K. C. Walker. I (Conducted by the National Woman'i Christian Tssipewusce I'nion.) FROM A BUSINESS STANDPOINT. U)y BBV, JOsUCPU HENRY CROOK Wt) Let us see how tho liquor trade works out as a business proposition in a small village of 8,090 people (count ing the tributary country folk), with four sakons. As tho average per cap ita expenditure for drink In the I'mted, States is over twenty dollars a year, on that basis this village would spend, $60,000 annually for liquor. But, to be conservative, we will cut this in two and make it 130,000. That sum, very large for so small a community, we may set down as the charge against the saloons, 'ihe business gains from them ate practically as follows: For licenses, $1,000 ($250 being the aver age village fee); for rent (the keepers living above their bar-rooms), $2,500; for household expenses of four fami lies, $4,000 (a very high estimate); making $7,."0() the amount of money which the business spends in tho town a very liberal calculation. That Is, for every four dollars paid over the bar, only one comes back to the finan cial interests of the community. An outgo of four dollars and income of one dollar. Surely, not much profit In that! Or to put the matter in another way: For every four dollars that goes Into any one of those saloons, three dollars never comes out again to do business In that town; the grocer on one side loses a dollar's trade, the market on the oth er side loses a dollar's trade, and the merchant across the street also loses a dollar's trade for every hour through out the year! GROWTH OF BEACH RESORT. According to the last census, Long Beach, Cal., is the fastest growing city In the United States. In 1902 the population was approximately 2,000; In 1910 it was nearly 20,000 a 685 per cent increase. Today its popula tion is reckoned at 45,000. Long Beach is one of the youngest tourist resorts in southern California and has been "dry" many years. "Other coast cities are as favorably located as to climate, environment, and proximity to Los Angeles," says Mayor Wheal ton, "and Long Beach is larger than anj'-Gf them, its banks and bank clear ings and assessed valuation of prop erty far surpassing them." The prohi bition of the liquor traffic, he declares, has contributed more than anything else to this phenomenal growth and prosperity, 50 per cent of the popula tion coming there, he believes, be cause it is a saloonless town. PUBLIC SENTIMENT MAKERS. Two visitors in Milwaukee, In at tendance at a home missionary con vention, went on a tour of inspection of the Schlitz Brewing company s plant, relates the Union Signal. In the course of their tour, one of them casually inquired of the man who was escorting them, "Has the work the women (meaning the W. C. T. U.) have been doing at all affected your business?" For answer the man pointed out of the window to a group of vacant buildings. "See them not a wheel of machinery moving. Once we worked seven days and seven nights a week now we have reduced It to three" OPPOSITION TO LIQUOR TRAFFIC. This from a Pennsylvania hotel keeper, who for four years was secre tary of the Philadelphia Liquor Deal ers' association and should know whereof he speaks: "Liquor men who say that all this agitation is being created by temper ance cranks are not awake. The oppo sition comes from many men who have liquors in their cellars; it comes from the big corporations who are making this fight on economic grounds; it comes from big merchants they them selves may drink and many of them do, but they don't want their em ployees to drink." NOURISHMENT IN BEER. It Is now possible to demonstrate with mathematical certainty that, so far as enriching the blood is con cerned, the flour that will He on the point of a knife affords more nourish ment than four measures of the best Bavarian beer; and that anybody who drinks a measure of beer daily would thus imbibe in one year about as much nourishment as is contained In a pound of bread. Baron Justus von Liebeg, in ChemischeBriefe. CHANCES OF MODERATION. I weigh my words when I say that the man who habitually uses alcohol In so-called moderate quantities the man who "takes It every day, but never was drunk In his life" has, other things being equal, a substan tially smaller chance of standing the strain. Sir Arthur Chance, noted Brlb Ish surgeon.