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STORY The fLYING MERCURY By' Eleanor M. Ingram Author of "The Game and the Candle" Illustrations By RAY WALTERS (Oopyright,1910. by Bobbl-M.rrlU a) CHAPTER 1. The roaring rtorts of the motor tell into abrupt silence, as the driver brought his car to a halt "You signaled?" he called across the grind of set brakes. In the blending glare of the search lights from the two machines, the gray one arriving and the limousine drawn to the roadside, the young girl stood, her hand still extended in the gesture which had stopped the man who now leaned across his wheel. "Oh, please," she appealed again. On either side stretched away the Long Island meadows, dark, sound less, apparently uninhabited. Only this spot of light broke the monotony ad dreariness. A keen, chill, October wind sighed past, stirring the girl's delicate gown as its folds lay un heeded in the dust, fluttering her fur lined cloak and shaking two or three childish curls from the bondage of her velvet hood. The driver swung himself down and came toward her with the unhasting swiftness of one trained to the unexpected. "I beg pardon-can I be of some use?" he asked. "We are lost," she confessed hur riedly. "If you could set us right, I should be grateful. I-we must get home soon. I have been a guest at a louse somewhere here, and started to turn to New York this afternoon. he chauffeur does not know Long land; we cannot seem to find any place. And now we have lost a tire. was afraid-" She broke off abruptly, as her com panion descended from the limousine. "We only want to know the way; we're all right," he explained. "This Is my cousin; I came out after her, you see. Don't get so worried, Em fly-we'll go straight on as soon as Anderson changes the tire." 1ie huddled his words slightly and repoke too rapidly, the round, good ,humored face he turned to the white Alight was too flushed; otherwise there 'uas nothing unusual in his appear ance. And his caste was evident and unquestionable in spite of any cir eumstance. There was no anger in girl's dark eyes as she gazed straight before her, only pity and help less distress. "I can tell your chauffeur the road," the driver of the gray car quietly said. "Have you far to go?" "To the St. Royal," she answered, looking at him. "My uncle is there. Is that far?" "No; you can reach there by ten e'lock. I will speak to your chauf feur." "Do, like a good fellow," the other man interposed. "Awfully obliged. You're not angry, Emily," he added, lowering his voice, and moving near er her. "Since we're engaged, why should you get frightened simply be esuse I proposed we get married to niaght instead of waiting for a big wedding? I thought it was a good idea, you know. It isn't my fault An derson got lost instead of getting us home for dinner, is it?" "Hush, Dick," she rebuked, hot col or sweeping her face. "You, you are not well. And we are not engaged; you forget Just because people want us to be-" Too proud to let her steadiness quiver, she broke the sen tence. If the driver had heard, and it was scarcely possible that he had not, he made no sign. By the acetylene light he produced an envelope and pencil, and proceeded to sketch a map show ing the route to the limousine's chauf feur. "Understand it?" he queried, con eluding. He had a certain decision of manner, not in the least arrogant, but the result of a serene self-surety that somehow accorded with his lithe, trained grace of movement. A judge of men would have read him an ath lete, perhaps in an unusual line. "Yes, sir," the chauffeur replied. "I'll get Miss Ffrench home in no time after I get the tire on." The indiscretion of the spoken name was ignored, except for a slight lift of the hearer's eyebrows. "How long does it take you to change a tire?" "About half an hour; it's night, of course." An odd, choking gurgle sounded from the gray machine, where a dark flgure . had sat until now in quiescent mute "Half an hour!" echoed the gray gmachine's driver, and faced toward the ohue.d. "Rupert, it isn't in your esatraet, but do you want to come Iter and change this tire?" "Ill do it for you, Darling," was the gat Vsponse; the small figure ever the edge of the car wasth cat-like celerity. "Where are your tools, you chauffeur? Quickll" The bewildered chauffeur mechan ically reached for a box on the run ning-board, as the young assistant came up, grinning all over his malign dark face. "Oh, quicker! What's the matter, rheumatism?' They wouldn't have you in a training camp 'for motor trucks on Sunday. Hustle, please." There never had been anything done to that sedate limousine quite as this was done. Even the preoccupied girl looked on in fascination at a rap idity of unwasted movement suggest ing a conjuring feat. "By George!" exclaimed her escort. "A splendid man you've got there! Really, a splendid chauffeur, you know." The driver smiled with a gleam of irony, but disregarded the comment "Would you like to get into your car?" he asked the girl. "You will be able to start very soon." "I see that," she acknowledged gratefully. "Thank you; I would rather wait here." "Is your chauffeur trustworthy?" "Oh, yes; he has been in my uncle's employ for three years. But he was never before out here, in this place." There was a pause, filled by the soft monotone of insults drifting from the side of the limousine, for Rupert talked while he worked and his fel low-worker did not please him. "Wrench, baby hippo! Oh, look be hind you where you put it-you need a memory course. You ought to be passing spools to a lady with a sew ing machine. Did you ever see a mo tor car before? There, pump her up. do." He rose, drew out his watch and glanced at it. "Five minutes; I'll have to beat that day after tomorrow." The driver looked over at him and their eyes laughed together. Now, for the first time the girl noticed that across the shoulders of both men's Jerseys ran in silver letters the name of a famous foreign automobile. "I am very grateful, indeed," she said bravely and graciously. "I wish I could say more, or say it better. The journey will be short, now." But all her dignity could not check the frightened shrinking of her glance, first toward the interior of the limou sine and then toward the man who was to enter there with her. And the driver of the gray machine saw it. "We have done very little," he re turned. "May I put you in your car?" The chauffeur was gathering his tools, speechlessly outraged, and mak ing ready to start. Seated among the rugs and cushions, under the light of the luxurious car, the girl deliberately drew off her glove and held out her small uncovered hand to the driver of "The Journey Will Be Short Now." the gray machine. "Thank you," she said again, meet ing his eyes with her own, whose darkness contrasted oddly with the blonde curls clustered under her hood. "You are not afraid to drive into the city alone?" he asked. "Alone! Why, my cousin-" "Your cousin is going to stay with me." She flung back her head; amase ment, question, relief struggled over her sensitive face, and finally melted into irrepressible mirth under the fine amusement of his regard. "You are clever-and kind, to do that! No, I am not afraid." He closed the door: "Take your mistress home," he bade the chauffeur. "Crank for him, Ru pert." "Why, why-" stammered the limou sine's other passenger, turning as the motor started. No one heeded him. "By-by, don't break any records," Rupert called after the chauffeur. "Hold yourself in, do. If you shed any more tires, telegraph for me, and if I'm within a day's run I'll come put them on for you and save you time." Silence closed in again, as the red tail light vanished around a bend. The gray car's driver nodded curtly to the stupefied youth in the middle of the road. "Unless you want to stay here all night, you'd better get in the ma chine," he suggested. "My name's Lestrange-I suppose yours is Ffrench?" "Dick Ffrench. But, see here, you t mean well, but I'm going with my cousin. I'd like a drive with you, but o I'm busy." "You're not fit to go with your f cousin." "Not-" "Fit," completed Lestrange deS s nitely. "Can you hang on somewhere, Rupert?" "I can," Rupert assured, with an in y flection of his own. "Get your friend d aboard." r Lestrange was already in his seat, e waiting. "What's that for?" asked the dased e guest, as, on taking his place, a strap e was slipped around his waist. sour le is Um to the seat. "Bo you won't fall out," soothed thei grinning Rupert. "You ain't well, you know. Not that I'd care if you did, but somebody might blame Darlingu. The car leaped forward, gathering speed to an extent that was a revela tion in motoring to Ffrench. The keen air, the giddy rush through the dark, were a sobering tonic. After a while he spoke to the man beside him, nervously embarrassed by a situation he was beginning to appreciate. "This is a racing car?" "It was." "Isn't it now?" "If I were going to race it day after to-morrow, I wouldn't be risking it over a country road to-night. A rao Ing machine is petted like a race horse until it is wanted." "And then?" "It takes its chances. If you are eon. nected with the Firenches who manu. facture the Mercury car, you should k.ow something of automobile racing yourself. I noticed your limousine was of that make." "Yes, that is my uncle's company. I did see a race once at Coney: Island. A car turned over and killed its driver and made a nasty muse. I-I didn't fancy it." A wheel slipped off a stone, giving the car a swerving lurch which was as instantly corrected-with a second lurch-by its pilot. The effect was not tranquilizing; the shock swept the last confusion from Ffrench's brain. "Where are you taking me?" he presently asked. "Where do you want to go? I will set you down at the next village we come to; you can stay there to-night or you can get a trolley to the city." The question remained unanswered. Several times Ffrench glanced, rather diffidently, at his companion's clear, firm profile, and looked away again without speaking. "I went out to get my cousin to-day, and my host gave me a couple of high balls," he volunteered, at last. "I don't know what you thought-" Lestrange twisted his car around a belated farm wagon. "How old are you?" he inquired calmly. "Twenty-three." "I'm nearly twenty-seven. That's what I thought." The simpler mind considered this for a space. "Some men are born awake, some awake themselves, and some are shak en into awakening," paraphrased Le strange, in addition. "If I were you, I'd wake up; it comes easier and it's sure to arrive anyhow. There is the village ahead-shall I stop?" "It looks terribly dull," was the doleful verdict. "Then come with me," flashed the other unexpectedly; for a fractional instant his eyes left the road and turned to his companion's face. "Did you ever see race practice at dawn? Come try a night in a training camp." "You'd bother with me?" "Yes." A head bobbed up by Ffrench's knee, where Rupert was clinging in some inexplicable fashion. "Once I rode eight miles out there by the hood, head downward, holding in a pin," he imparted, by way of en tertainment. Ffrench stared at the reeling perch indicated, and gasped. "What for?" he asked. "So we could keep on to our con trol instead of being put out of the running, of course. Did you guess I was curing a headache?" "But you might have been killedl" exclaimed Ffrench. Even by the semi-light 9f the lamps there was visible the mechanician's droll twist of lip and brow. "I'd drive to hell with Lestrange," he explained sweetly, and settled back in his place. Ffrench drew a long breath. After a moment he again looked at the driver. "I'll come," he accepted. "And, thank you." It was Lestrange who smiled this time, with a sudden and enchanting warmth of mirth. "We'll try to amuse you," he prom ised. (TO BE CONTINUED.) Fairness Wins. That it pays to be fair with em a ployes was illustrated recently in the New York financial district. A young man who had worked for a large house for three years was forced to a remain at home two uays because of illness. He had never been absent from his desk a day during the entire time, not even for a summer vacation. Nevertheless, when he received his d salary envelope the amount of two d days' pay had been deducted. t The boy was indignant and resigned " on the spot. The following day he d closed a deal involving $100,000 which i. would have meant a clear profit of 7 $20,000 to the firm he had just left 1 The young man turned the business over to a rival house and was given a II position. His contract calls for double i- the salary he had received at the old s house and stipulates that he is to re. ceive one month's vacation each sum. mer with full pay. y "A Perfect Saw." Lt "To say nothing and saw wood" seems to be one of the most sagacious ,r phrases passed down by our hard. working forebears. Like most sayings which have emanated from manual 1- labor, this is blunt, homely, and, to s. the loquaciously inclined, painfully accurate. Show me a man bent Jack - knife fashion over a sawhorse, with d a short log under his buck, and I will point out a man who is minding his t, own business wlah admirable zeal. It he speaks, he ceases to saw While id he saws he is ineassarily mute. Hence p this shrewd phrase, which is, punning r aside, a perfeot saw.-Atlantie Meath. Ili. POULTRY COOPS OF PAPER Successful Fancier Declares They Are as Warm as Others That Are Built of Wood. Everybody in Marblehead, Mass., knows Frank Brown. Although his business is that of a grocer, he keeps poultry on the side, and is especially enthusiastic over a flock of games, one pullet having laid 195 eggs in nine months. Mr. Brown keeps his pet birds in a little house in the rear of his store, but most of his hens are kept on a half-acre of ledge on which a little soil appears in patches. He also has ducks and geese and pigeons. A large number of the fowls are suc cessfully kept in houses made of paper. In the coldest weather the hens live In these houses and seem as comfort able as those in the frame build:ng. These houses are long enough to be divided into several pens. One of them has been in use seven years. In making these houses a light frame is put up and poultry wire is stretched tightly over it and heavy tarred paper laid over the wire. The paper is given a heavy coat of paint inside and out. The outside color is red, but white is used inside to enhance the light. Being in the heart of the town, night prowlers are to be looked for, but any activity on their part during the sum mer is prevented by the presence of Mr. Brown's son, who has a tent in one corner of the half-acre, where he spends the night. His sleep is seldom disturbed, except when he finds it nec essary to get up and shoot a few rats. In his war on these pests he is aided by a nimble Irish terrier. Both Mr. Brown and his son say that paper houses for poultry are a distinct success. There is seldom a frozen comb, even when the mercury drops below the zero mark, and the hens lay well. The houses are so tight that an opening has been made above each window, which is covered with bur lap, for ventilation. Mr. Brown hatches several thousand chicken each season, all of them in incubators. These machines hold be tween 200 and 300 eggs each. Hot wa ter supplies the heat, and gas heats the water. Horrible Example. Nat Goodwin was on a tour. Seats were selling like hot cakes. Mr. Goodwin was down in the foyer i watching the weather. A thin-visaged woman with athrottle-hold on her purse minced up to the window and bought one ticket for the matinee. As she passed out, counting and re counting her change, the woman over heard an accquaintance of Mr. Good win's calling him by name. The woman looked them both over with close scrutiny. Then she went back to the box office. "Is that Mr. Goodwin?" she de manded. "Yes." "Mr. Nat C. Goodwin?" "Yes." "The man who plays in this play I've t just bought a ticket for?" "Yes! ' "All right," said the woman. She stopped, probed the fastnesses of her reticule, pulled out her newly secured ticket and pushed it back reluctantly through the window. "If you're sure that's Mr. Goodwin," remarked the woman, "you can take that ticket right back and give me an orchestra seat as far front as you can get it-no, give C me two orchestra seats and give them to me for tonight. For if that's Nat Goodwin, I'm going to bring my feath er-headed son along and show him just what matrimony can do for a man."-Green Book. Call That Jack Welcomed. A 'nan-o'-warsman, on visit to his native city of Liverpool, gave an amus ing instance of the readiness and re source of naval seamen. He had made an arrangement at Portsmouth to meet a chum from his own ship, but he had forgotten the number of the house, and he did not care to knock at every door until he came to the right one. A rag and-bone man with a bugle passed along. Jack seized the bugle. "I'm looking for a chum," he ex plained. Then he blew the grog call of the navy. As the last note died away a window was hastily flung up and a sail. or's head was thrust out. "Ah," said Jack, as he handed back the bugle, "I knew I'd find him. He's never missed that call yet!" And a few minutes later the sought for tar explained sorrowfully to his chum: "You've given me away all right! I'm courtin' the gal there, and told them that I v :ts a teetotaller; but her father is an old salt and knows the calL"-London Tit-Bits. Chewing Gum In Germany. Tle German consumption of chew ing gum is limited largely to persons who have traveled in the United States, but might be increased if manu factures carried on an advertising campaign in this market. Well known American brands are now offered for sale in places of popular amusement in all larger cities. The article is known in this country as "kaugummi," and, in import statistics, is included with all unbaked sweetmeats contain ing sugar, such as bassorine, traga canth, fruit kernels, spices and seed's coated with sugar. The total quant ity of these goods imported in 1911 amounted to 6.8 tons, and in 1910 to 7.8 tons. It would be possible to main tain stocks of American chewing gum in the Hamburg free port without the payment of any duty, except on such quantities as might from time to time be sold for consumption. The market in Scandinavia, Russia and Austria might also be served from the ge part supplies--Consular Repost. LAST OF TVRKEY33 ~OPERP ROwR IlOOu 11111 E f1 n IJA Inllnll llI Ilmlrllln;Y BlRIJII Ilir~ ~II J i11II~Y n nIrI I~l nI nn iirn11'11inn0 r .:~:::' ~~ ~s:y.:: :: ··: ·:' :···· ·: 4 4 . 4:i::::g::jiS~ ::·i·~~~~~~~~. . . . . ...i::.?:·:9r:::i::i.. .4..::i : ': :~:.::::: :4)·: ·: A': ji~i::~~~: .4.4...:: ·::' i' 4.~~ii ~: ,., .. 1 ::': 4...4.. 4< j·: --i··~i:~ L ::ibj~i~ 4 .~~L i~~~isi~~~:i:j: j~ i~al::0/f TM.: 80JA410QUJ·::·:: country that in Anatolia, not very far from Smyrna, the Turkish government has suc ceeded in capturing and put ting to death a notorious brigand by the name of Tchakirdjali. The story of this man's life is one of those dra matic episodes which bring to mind the legendary lore of the famous Rob in Hood. It runs about as follows: Years ago, during the reign of Ab dul Hamid II., a brigand who had made the government much trouble in the Smyrna district, was offered complete amnesty if he would come to the government office and surren der. He accepted the offer, and came with his son, then a mere lad, to sur render himself. On entering the door of the government building he was in stantly shot without warning. The boy turned and fled, vowing eternal vengeance on the Turkish govern ment. In due time the lad grew to manhood and gathered around him a band of lawless men like-minded with himself. This band numbered at va rious times from two to three dozen men. All of them, like Tchakirdjali, were crack shots, and all were armed with the newest modern repeating rifles. For many years this man and his band held sway in the mountains and valleys of western Anatolia, not far from Smyrna. The object of their bitter animosity was mainly the Turk ish government itself, and in. all con flicts with soldiers sent to capture them they showed no mercy. It is not denied that during the past ten years at least three hundred victims, most of them soldiers, have fallen to Tcha kirdjali's rifle. To capture a man of this type, who knew every ravine and valley, every crag and crevice, in the mountain district, was no small task. and for many years. the Turkish gov ernment failed in accomplishing its object. Profoundly Religious. In spite of his bloodthirsty atti tude toward the governmental powers, Tchakirdjali had a most remarkable side to his character. He was pro foundly religious, from the Moham medan standpoint, as were also his followers, and they never omitted to observe the regulation prayer hour, wherever they might be. Nor was this man devoid of sympathy with the poor, much as he hated the predatory rich. At one time, riding along the Meander valley, he met a peasant driv ing in front of him with a yoke of oxen. "Where are you going, my friend?' said Tohakirdjali. "My master," was the reply, "I am going to town to sell my oxen." "What makes you sell your oxen? Are they not your means of plowing your farm?" "That is true," replied the man; "but, you see, my daughter is to be married, and I have no means to pro vide a dowry. This is a great shame, and I shall sell the oxen to provide the dowry." "How much do you expect to get for your oxen?" asked the bandit. "I expect to get about twenty-one liras," ($80). "It is too bad," said Tchakirdjali, "thus to sacrifice your means of liv ing. Here are twenty-one liras as a dowry for your daughter; go home, my son, and keep your oxen; but re member this, when the wedding pro' cession is formed it must pass by this bridge where we now are." "God be praised!" replied the el low; "it shall be as you say." When in due time the wedding pro cession was formed, it came to the bridge in question, and there was Tohakirdjali on horseback alone. See ing the procession coming, he rode up to the bride, who was on horse back, and, taking a silver filigree necklace, he fastened it around her neck, saying: "God be with you and 'give you peace!" At another time this same bandit, who feared neither man nor devil, rode into a town in the Meander val - ley where lived three Turks who no toriously ground the faces of the poor. It was high noon, and the three men were in the mosque at prayers. ITchakirdJali went boldly into the mosque, and, tapping each of the three on the shoulder, said: "I want to see yea outside'" All three came eat, knowing perfectly well who this man was. He then spoke to No. 1, saying: "I want of you six hundred liras, and I want them now." To No. 2 he said: "Of you I want seven hundred liras, and I want them now." .To No. 8 he said: "I want twelve hundred liras, and I want them now." No. 3 at once began to make some excuses, when the bandit drew his revolver and shot him on the spot. The other two, see ing that there was no effective argu ment under such conditions, went with, Tchakirdjali and counted out the gold. This very considerable sum he then. at once proceeded to distribute among the poor of the vicinity, thus drawing down on his head a thousand heart felt blessings. So popular was this modern Robin Hood among the peas antry that not one of them would will ingly betray him to the government powers. Mlssionaries Warned. Some years ago the government sent word to missionaries in Smyrna, warn, ing them not to go to their usual sum mer resort in the hills, because Tcha kirdjall was in the vicinity and it could not safeguard them. On this account the missionaries remained in. Smyrna that season, though, under government escort, they organized one picnic up in the hills. The following year TcbakirdJali himself called on one of the missionaries, and said: "Why did you not come up to your summer resort last year?" The reply was that the government had warned the missionaries against possible dan ger. To this he answered: "You need have no fear; you are good people, and I shall never harm a hair of your heads. Go up and take your rest this summer and feel per fectly safe." Relying on his word, those con erned went up as usual for their sum mer rest to their bungalows. Soon after their arrival this man himself appared with some of his followers. He associated with the missionaries in most gracious manner, and played lawn tennis with them, keeping his guards, however, always on the alert against any possible surprise by the army forces of the government One day he said: "Perhaps you think I did not know where you went on your picnic last summer. I knew it very well, however, for while you were en joying yourselves I and my men were behind the crags on the hills above you, and we could have shot every soldier acting as your guard had we desired to do so." This Tchakirdjali was only about thirty-six years of age, and is de scribed by an eye-witness as short and stocky, with his head held high in the air. His features were rugged and pleasing and he had remarkably ex, pressive eyes. They were brown in color, ordinarily gentle and mild, but when the owner became excited or startled, the pupils dilated and fire seemed to flash from them. At one time, when 'one of the missionaries was with the brigand at a picnic, he seemed really annoyed when he saw a camera pointed at him. He at once lifted his revolver and remonstrated. Of course, the camera was immediate, ly put away. The brigand then pro posed target practice with revolvers. An egg was placed against a bank. about thirty yards away, and, with his revolver, the chief of the band broke it at the second shot. At last, however, as is always the case with men of this type, the gov. ernment got the better of him, al though the peasantry believed that TohakirdJali was bullet-proof. The present governor, Nazim Pasha, deter mined to round him up, and employed a large band of Circassians for this purpose. The robber band was sur. rounded and, after a terrific fight. leaving some of their number dead. they escaped. The headless body of Tchakirdjali was found by the Cir cassians (he having probably killed himself), the robbers having removed his head and arms, as they had marks on them that would identify them. The body was, however, identified by his wife, as also by the fact that a little later on, his head was found buried in his father's grave. We should allow others' excellenoes to preserve a modest opinion oft own.-Barrow.