The Marble booster. [volume], July 13, 1912, Image 2

About The Marble booster. [volume] (Marble, Gunnison County, Colo.) 1911-19??

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The POOL of
FLMAE
by LOUIS JOSEPH VNACE
ILLUS T RATI ON ~
ELLSWORTH-YOUNG .
COPYRIGHT 1909 6y V\NCE.
SYNOPSIS.
Th«* story opens at Monte Carlo with
Col. Terence O’Rourke, a military free
lance and something of a gambler, in his
hotel. Leaning on the balcony he sees a
beautiful girl who suddenly enters the
elevator and passes from sight. At the
gaming table O'Rourke notices two men
watching him. One Is the Hon. Bertie
Glynn, while his companion is Viscount
Des Trebes, a duelist. The viscount tells
him the French government has directed
him to O'Rourke as a man who would
undertake a secret mission. At his apart
ment, O’Rourke, who had agreed to un
dertake the mission, finds a mysterious
letter. The viscount arrives, hands a
sealed package to O'Rourke, who Is not
to open It until on the ocean. A pair of
dainty slippers are seen protruding from
under a doorway curtain. The Irishman
finds the owner of the mysterious feet to
be his wife, Beatrix, from whom he had
run away a year previous. They are
reconciled, and opening the letter he finds
that a Rangoon law firm offers him
100,000 pounds for a Jewel known as the
Pool of Flame and left to him by a dy
ing friend, but now in keeping of one
named Chambret In Algeria. O'Rourke
worsts the nobleman In a duel. The wife
bids O'Rourke farewell and he promises
to soon return with the reward. He dis
covers both Glynn and the viscount on
board the ship. As he finds Chambret
there Is an attack bv bandits and his
friend dies telling O'Rourke that he has
left the Pool of Flame with the governor
general, who at sight of a signet ring
given the colonel will deliver over the
jewel. Arriving at Algeria the Irishman
finds the governor general away. Des
Trebes makes a mysterious appointment,
and tells O’Rourke that he has gained
possession of the jewel by stealing it. In
a duel O'Rourke masters the viscount,
secures possession of the Pool of Flame
and starts by ship for Rangoon. He finds
the captain to be a smuggler who tries to
steal the Jewel.
CHAPTER XIV.—(Continued.)
He ran as seldom he had run be
fore, straining and laboring, stumbling,
recovering and plunging onward. And.
by the gods, wasn’t it hot! The
khamsin raved and tore like a spirit
of hell Are through that narrow alley,
turning it Into a miniature Inferno
But in the course of some minutes,
the end of the tunnel came In view;
a lighted rift between house walls,
giving upon the Illuminated street be
yond. The sight brought forth a fresh
burst of speed from O'Rourke. He
dashed madly out of the alley,
stumbled and ran headlong Into a
strolling Greek, who grappled with
him, at first in surprise and then in
resentment, while the clamor of the
pursuing rabble shrilled loud and
near and ever nearer.
Exhausted as he was, the Irishman
struggled with little skill before he
mastered his own surprise; ana in tne
end saw his finis written along the
blade of a thin, keen knife which the
Greek nad whipped from the folds of
his garments and jerked threateningly
above his head.
It was falling when O’Rourke saw
it. In another breath he had been
stabbed. Unexpectedly the Greek
shrieked, dropped the knife as though
it had turned suddenly white-hot In
his hands, and leaped back from
O’Rourke, nursing a broken wrist;
while a voice as sweet as the singing
of angels rang In the fugitive’s ears,
though the spirit of Its melody was
simple and crude enough.
“O’Rourke, be all lh’ powers! The
masther himself! Glory, ye beggar,
’tls sorry I am that I didn’t split the
ugly face of ye wid me sthick!
. . . This way, yer honor! Come
wid me!”
Blindly enough (Indeed the world
•was all awhirl about him) O’Rourke,
his arm grasped by a strong and confi
dent hand, permitted himself to be
swung to the right and across the
street. In a thought blackness again
was all about him, but the hand
gripped his arm, hurrying him onward;
and he yielded blindly to Its guidance
—without power, for that matter, to
question or t.o object; what breath
he had he sorely needed. And as blind
ly he stumbled on for perhaps another
hundred yards, while the voice of the
rabble made hideous the Dight be
hind them. Hardly, Indeed, had the
two whipped into the mouth of the
back-way ere it was choked by a
swarm of pursuers. But —“Niver
fear!" said the voice at his side.
“’Tls ourselves that’ll outwit them.
. . . Here, now, yer honor, do ye
go straight on widout Bthoppin’ on til
ye come to an iron dure in a dead wall
«t the end av this. Knock there
wnnee, count tin, and knock again.
HI lead ’em away and be wid ye again
tn a brace av shakes!”
* Benumbed by fatigue and exhaus
tion, O’Rourke obeyed. He was aware
that his preserver with a wild whoop
ted darted aside into a cross-alley, but
hardly aware of more. Mechanically
he blundered on until brought up by
.a wall that closed and made a cul-de
■ac of the way.
With trembling hands he felt before
Dim, Angers encountering the smooth,
<§ol surface of a sheet of metal. This,
t|«n, was the door. As carefully as
Ip could he knocked, counted ten, and
iBocked again— while the mob that
Ipd lusted for his blood trailed off
tewn tie side alley In frantic pursuit
m his generous preserver. And he
#»id with a smile, the latter's shrill
defiant Irish yells luring them further
upon the false scent.
“If ’tls not Danny," gasped the ad
venturer, “then myself’s not the
O’Rourke! Bless the lad!”
But as he breathed this benediction
the Iron door swung Inwards and he
stumbled across the threshold, half
fainting, hardly conscious that he had
done more than pass from open night
to the night of an enclosed space. His
foot caught on some obstruction and
he went to his knees with a cry that
was a cross between a sob and a
groan; and Incontinently fell full
length upon an earthen floor, his head
pillowed on his arm, panting as If his
heart would break.
In the darkness above him someone
cried aloud, a startled cry. and then
the door was thrust to with a clang
and rattle of bolts. A match rasped
loudly and a flicker of light leaped
from a small hand lamp and revealed
to Its bearer the fagged and quivering
figure on the floor.
Some one sat down beside him with
a low exclamation of solicitude and
gathered his head Into her lap. Some
one quite simply enfolded his neck
with soft arms and pressed his head
to her bosom, and as if that were not
enough, kissed him full and long upon
his lips.
"My dear! My dear!” she murmured
In French. "What has happened, O,
what has happened? My poor, poor
boy! ”
Now the Integral madness of all this
was as effectual in restoring O’Rourke
to partial consciousness as had been
a douche of cold water in his face.
Blankly he told himself that he was
damned, and that it was all a dream.
And yet, when he looked, It was to
see, dim In the feeble glimmer of the
iamp, the face of a woman as beauti
ful as young, as young as beautiful.
One glance was enough. O’Rourke
shut his eyes again. “If I look too
long,” he assured himself, “she’ll van
ish or—or turn into a fiend. Sure, ’tls
a judgment upon me! Too long have
I been an amorous dram-drinker; this
will undoubtedly be the delirium-tre
mens of love!”
And with that he passed quietly Into
temporary unconsciousness.
CHAPTER XV.
He opened his eyes again, alone on
the cool, damp, earthen floor, but as
sured that the feminine element In his
adventure had been no hallucination,
after all; for he could see the girl
standing a little to one side and look
ing down upon him, her face so deep
In shadow that he could gather noth
ing from its expression, whether It
were of displeasure or of perplexity.
From this and that, however, he de
duced that she, discovering herself
lavishing endearments on the wrong
man, was not utterly delighted with
the situation. The circumstances tak
en Into consideration, such a state of
mind he thought not unreasonable;
and being now to some extent recov
ered, he saw no profit In making her
suffer more. So with a show of
faintness not wholly assumed, he
rolled his head to one side, opening
wide his eyes and looked the woman
in the face, inquiring with his faint,
thin brogue: "What’s this, now, me
dear?"
The girl’s face darkened. She shook
her head Impatiently. “I have no Eng
lish,” she told him in excellent French.
“Who are you? Why do you coine
here? You are not Danny!"
"Oho!” commented O’Rourke know
ingly. "and that’s the explanation. Is
it?" He sat up, embracing his knees
and drawing a rueful face. “Faith, me
dear,” he admitted, “I concede ye the
best of the argument, thus far. I am
not Danny- 1 —’tis true as Gospel."
She frowned. “Then what are you
doing here, monsieur? How did you
learn —who told you—the signal?”
“Faith, froim no less a person than
Danny Mahone himself. He showed
me the way and bade me knock —but
niver a word said he of yourself, me
dear.”
“Monsieur does not recall that I ad
mitted him?" she persisted, but with
a lightening face, “nor anything that
happened thereafter?”
“Not the least in the world. What
did happen, now?”
But she flanked that embarrassing
question adroitly, evidently much re
lieved by O’Rourke’s reassurance.
Which was Just what he wished her
frame of mind to be. "Nothing that
matters,” she replied, continuing to
employ the French tongue, and that
very prettily, with a fetching little ac
cent "I think you fainted. Then —but
you know my Danny?”
"Your Danny!” said O’Rourke, his
mood quizzical. "None better, me dea r
I’ve known him since he was so high
or thereabouts." And he held a palm
some six Inches or so above the floor
“And he—he brought you here?"
"Who else? How else would I he
knowing the signal? Ye see, there was
a bit of a shindig down the street and
me In the middle thereof and getting
all the worst of it—If ye must know —
when along comes Danny and lendB
me a hand and whips me off here and
says he’ll be back in a moment. He’ll
tell ye the details himself; but I” —
he eyed her quizzically—"would now
ask ye to overlook the unceremonious
manner of me entrance and a certain
lack of dignity as to me attire, which
I beg ye to believe Is not me ordinary
evening dress, and—and faith! me
throat is baked entirely, If me clothes
are not. May I ask for a drink at
mademoiselle’s fair hands?”
He was on his feet now and en
joying the situation hugely. "And ’tis
the Irish eye for beauty Danny has!"
he told himself. "I commend his taste,
the rogue!”
For the girl was exceedingly fair to
see; slender and straight and girlish
and sweet; a Greek, If he were to
Judge of her features and her dress,
and In that odd light, with perturba
tion In. her pose, a smile half-perplexed
trembling on her lips (because of
O’Rourke's conceit) and the shadow of
anxiety clouding her eyes, she made a
charming picture Indeed.
She was quick to grant his request
“Danny will explain,” she agreed with
conviction. “This way, then, if you
please, monsieur, and” —as they passed
through a low doorway—"If you will
have the patience to wait here, I will
fetch wine."
She smiled enchantlngly, dropped
him a bewitching little courtesy with
a deference evoked, no doubt, by the
man’s subtle yet ineradicable air of
distinction, and left him wholly capti
vated. "Bless her heart and pretty
face!’’ he murmured, eyeing her re
treating figure. “ 'Tis Danny who’s
the lucky dog . . . not that he’s
not deserving. . . .”
He reviewed his refuge summarily,
discovering that he stood In one cor
ner of a small courtyard, the center
of a hollow cube of masonry; a dwell
ing of two stories, round whose upper
floor ran an inner gallery to which
steps led up from the court and from
which access was to be had to the liv
ing rooms —all dark and silent.
In the center of the courtyard a
little fountain tinkled, a tiny jet of
water rising from the central upright
of stone to spray the black, star-smit
ten pool beneath. There was a little
Exhausted ae He Wat, the Irishman Struggled With Little 8klll.
plot of grass, likewise, with flowers
generous of their cordial perfume.
The girl came silently out from the
shadows beneath the gallery, bringing
him a cup and a Jar of earthenware
brimming with wine.
He accepted the service with a bow.
“Mademoiselle Is as kind as she Is
beautiful!” said he, and with the ap
preciation of a connoisseur first
watched her blush, then drained the
Jog to Its last drop and felt the grete-
ful fluid grapple with his fatigue, tem
per it, and send new strength leaping
through his veins. “And as good, I’m
sure, as she is kind,” he added; and
"Ah!” he sighed, resuming his seat
but rising again, and quickly, as a
second summons clanged upon the
Iron door and sent the girl flying to
wards the rear of the house.
"That will be Danny now,”
O’Rourke opined as she swept past
him.
She murmured a response he did
not clearly catch. “What’s that?” he
called after her.
“Or, possibly,” she repeated, pausing
at the entrance to the rear chamber,
“It may be Monsieur the Captain
Hole!”
“The dlvvle!" cried O’Rourke, and
was on his feet In a twinkling, cast
ing about him for a weapon. "That
can’t be—”
Nothing offered Itself suitable either
for offense or defense, save and except
the jug he had been drinking from,
and the Irishman was weighing this
thoughtfully with a definite intention
of hurling It at Captain Hole’s head,
If Indeed he had heard aright, when
the entrance of quite another person
relieved his mind, however tempo
rarily.
It was Danny, plainly enough; Dan
ny, the same as of old, with his half
sheepish, half-impudent grin and his
shock of flaming hair, his upper lip
that was long even for an Irish boy’s,
his roving and twinkling blue eyes,
his tip-tilted nose, his short, sturdy
physique.
“Faith,” said O’Rourke, "the gods
are not so unkind after all! 'Tls as
welcome as the shadow of a great rock
In a weary land, the sight of ye,
Danny!” And “Danny!” he observed
with some severity, “I’ll ask ye to ex
plain what the dlvvle at all ye're do
ing here.”
Danny’s assurance deserted him on
the instant. He had done his former
master a signal service that night, but
in his estimation nothing more than
was due the O’Rourke. Whatever he
felt, he looked to perfection a boy
caught at mischief—hanging his head
and eyeing O’Rourke under his brows,
shamefaced and 111 at ease.
“Aw!” he deprecated, “sure, now,
yer honor, now —”
“Danny,” demanded O’Rourke stern
ly, "does Miss Cleopatra here under
stand English?”
“Dlvvle a word!” the ex-valet pro-
tested earnestly. "Beyond Greek and
French and Arabic, sure, she’s Ignor
ant as Paddy’s pig!”
So much was plainly evident from
the girl’s manner and expression of
puzzlement Reassured, O’Rourke pro
ceeded :
”’Tls*good hearing. Faith, If she
understood the King’s English, ’tla
me hair she would be tearing out by
the roots In one minute. Danny, 1
gather that the lady la be way of lik-
ing ye more than ye deserve. I* it
in love with you she inf*’
Danny stole a sidelong glance at the
girl. "Beggin’ yer honor’s pardon, he
stammered, “and I belave she is that.
“Umm!” snorted O’Rourke. And
what, if ye please, about poor Annie
Bragin, at home? la it marrying a
Greek ye would be. and leaving poor
Annie to cry her eyes out for ye, ye
worthless scut?”
"Dlvvle a bit, respects to yer hon
or! Sure, 'tls only for amusement—”
"And who may she be. that ye make
so free to amuse yourself with her?
“The daughter av me partner, yer
honor, Noccovle, the Greek tobaccy
merchant”
“This will be his house, then?”
"No, sir, but a—a sort av a sthore
houae, in a way av speaking. 'Tls jlst
’round th’ corner they do be livin’ In
a gran’ folne house, sir.”
“Then what’s the young lady doing
here?”
"Waiting for me to take her place,
sir. Noccovle Is away and —and," in
a blurted confession, " ’tis a hit of
hashish smuggling we be doing on the
side. The stuff is always brought
here, sor; and tonight’s the night a
consignment’s due."
“Ah-h!” observed O’Rourke darkly.
One by one, it seemed, he was gather
ing the trumps again Into his own
hand. He resumed his catechism of
the boy.
"Danny, is this the way a decent
man should be behaving himself?” he
browbeat him. "Is it your mother's
son and the sweetheart of Annie
Bragin that’s become no more than an
Idle breaker of hearts? Danny, Dan
ny, what would Father Malachl be
saying If he could hear what ye’ve
Just told me? Whin, boy, did ye con
fess last?”
Danny cowered. "Aw, dear!” he
whimpered. “Aw, dearie-dear! And
meself meant no harm at all!"
"Thin take your light-o’-love home,
Danny, and come back to me here at
once with a change of clothes!"
"Yiss, yer honor. I’ll do that, yer
honor. But will ye hark for the signal
at the door and let Cap’n Hole in?”
It was true, then!
“I will. But see that ye don’t for
get the change of clothes, Danny, and
don’t be lingering too long over your
fond farewells with the lady, if ye’re
not looking for a hiding, and —
Danny!”
“Yis, sor?”
"Have ye a revolver?”
“Here, sor.”
“Give it here, and bring another
back with ye. Lively, now!”
Alone, O’Rourke seated himself on
the edge of the fountain and consid
ered gravely the uncertainties of life.
" ’Tis fate,” he concluded soberly, at
length. "And ’tls hard upon eleven
now. They will not dare to run that
cargo before midnight; and—meself
sorely needs a bath.”
Deliberately he stripped orr rags and
tatters and plunged Into the fountain.
Danny was back with the promised
wearing apparel ere he had finished
splashing.
And while O’Rourke dressed, and for
long thereafter, the two sat and
smoked and confabulated, talked of
Men and Things and the turn of the
Wheel of the World.
(TO BE CONTINUED.)
CUT RATE FOR AN AMERICAN
Judge Donnelly’s Amusing Experience
With the Sharp Irish Cab
Driver in Dublin.
Chief Justice Joseph G. Donnelly of
the civil court, in illustrating an Irish
man’s idea of wit, told a story of an
adventure with an Irish hack driver In
Dublin, relates the Milwaukee Wiscon
sin.
"I asked him how much he would
take to drive me to Hotel he
said. "The driver looked at me and
said: ‘You are from the states, aren’t
you?’ I answered yes.
" ‘Well,’ he said, ‘since you are from
the states, and I’ve driven nothing but
Englishmen all day, I’ll drive you to
the hotel for three shillings.’
“As I thought that was reasonable,
I got into the hack. We drove on and
on for hours, over hills and across
streams, until we finally got to the
hotel. While driving, I wondered at
the difference ' between this hack
driver and those in America, and won
dered what an American hack driver
would say if I were to hand him three
shillings for such a long ride.
"I went to bed and slept sound that
night. When I woke up early in the
morning, I went down and out on the
front steps. I almost fainted, for di
rectly in front of the hotel was the
self-same depot that I arrived at on
the train. I suppose the hack driver
thought he was having a pile of fun
while driving me around the city and
country.”
In the Garden of Eden.
"Did you know this waa my birth
day?" asked Eve.
“Could 1 forget It?” answered Adam.
“Let’s see—how old are you, this year
—now don’t answer—let me guess.
Your are —ah—seven!"
“You hateful wretch!” crlefi Eve.
“I’m only five, and you know it
“But that Is Just like you men—
you try to pretend that the time Is
dragging and that your wives are
growing old! Just because you are
over six, and have lots' of gray hairs,
you think you can Insult your wife!"
Eden was never the same after that
tiff.
Inexpensive.
"1 am thinking of going to Europe
on a vacation."
“You are! 1 didn’t know you had
that much money.”
"1 haven’t, but, you aee. it doesn’t
cost anything to think of going.’’—
Llpplncott’s.
PROPER CARE OF KITCHEN
Small Things Well Worth Remeihk.
ing— Easy Method of Removls?*
Mildew Stains. 8
Always empty the water out of m.
kettle after using It and rinse lttij
oughly before filling with freBh wati
This pfevents the thick wnito m
ment from forming at the bottom
the kettle that so soon cakes the
of the kettle if not rinsed. ”,
The omelet pan must never i
washed or scratched in any way an
should be used only for omelets.'We
done with, rub well inside and *
with pieces of soft paper till cle«
Then rub with a dry cloth, y
pieces of eggs have stuck to It *
In a tiny piece of dripping and alio
this to get hot over the fire. Th
pieces can be removed without u
trouble. 1
Mildew stains can very often hen
moved quite successfully in ft
lowing way: Mix a small quantity (
soft soap with the same proportion 1
powdered starch and salt and the juk
of a lemon. Xpply this mixture
both sides of the stain with a bqi
brush, and, if possible, let the artlc
lie on the grass all day and night n
til the stains have quite disappear
Then wash It in the usual way.
SOMETHING NEW IN JAMS
Rhubarb, When Properly Prepared, |
One of the Most Deli
cious Made.
To every pound of rhubarb alio
one pound of loaf sugar and the ria
of half a lemon. Wash and wipe th
rhubarb perfectly dry; take off th
string or peel, and weigh the rhubti
putting it into the preserving-pi
with the sugar. Mince the thin yi
low rind very finely, all to the rhubai
and place all over the fire. Stir 0
til the sugar is dissolved, then coo
steadily till done, keeping it well ski
med. Stir it occasionally with a woo
en or silver spoon (do not use iron«
tin). Pour it into scalding presen
jars or pots, and seal or cover wif
paper wet with white of egg. Whil
the rhubarb is young and tender
will cook in from threerquarters tow
hour, reckoning from the time th
whole starts to simmer equally. Q
rhubarb requires from one and on
fourth to one and one-half hours.
Light Bread.
Thfe or four medium size potato!
peel and boil, when boiled mash fln
put in two gallon jar with potato 1
ter; put in one handful of salt, 01
cupful of sugar; stir good; pour in
much water as needed, but not tfl
cold or too hot. If a cold night, wi
up good with old cloaks or blankets
keep warm. Then In morning take 01
quart of yeast for next settings; thf
stir in flour enough to make a goo
paste. Set in warm place to rise, b
not too much. Then put in In
bread pan with lots of flour with 01
handful of salt, one handful of lai
stir together until hard dough ; put
jar; let rise till light; put in ptn
rise again, put in oven, let bake 01
hour 35 minutes with medium flri
Take out, empty on clean cloth, grei
with butter or lard. It makes pwl
good bread.
Strawberry Dumplings.
Mix together a pint of flour, a hi
teaspoonful of salt and one teaspol
ful and a half of baking powder, tin
rub In two heaping tablespoonfuU
butter. Mix to a soft dough with ml
and roll out half an inch thick. Cut
rounds the size oi a saucer; on eit
lay six or eight berries. Draw ti
edges together in a greased pan U
steam for twenty-five minutes. Stli
in the oven a moment to dry the to
slightly, then serve with a hard saa
Into which has been beaten as ms
pulped berries as can be added *1
out curdling the mixture.
Pineapple Pudding.
Place ih a saucepan to melt thf
ounces of butter. When melted a
three ounces of flour and one pint
milk. Bring to the boil, stirring
tho time. off the fire and •
three ounces of sugar, the yolki
two eggs and pineapple juice. Put
a plo dish the contents of a smilli
of pineapple chunks; then pour t
mixture over and put In the oven
set. Beat the whites of the eggs to
stiff froth and spread over the. P<
ding; then return to the oven for
few minutes until a nice brown cok
Caramel Pie.
One cup dark brown sugar, one
lng teaspoon of butter and a little *
ter. Let boil till It hairs. Prep*
thickening as follows: .One egg, 0
•pint of sweet milk, two tablcspop
flour, a little more than level; stir H
milk and flour together; stir In t
boiling syrup and stir constantly/*
til It thickens. Have baked ff*
same as for lemon pie. Fill baked!
crust and frost. Frosting: Beat I
whites of an egg until stiff; spread 1
top of pie, sprinkle with granuM
sugar. !
Railroad Pudding.
Half cup of lard and butter Hiw*
one-half cup of molasses, one cuP
milk, one-half cup raisins, one*
teaspoon of cloves and clnnai#
pinch of salt, one teaspoon of
three cups of flour. Steam at H
.two hours.
Bothersome Paint Spots.
There is a simple and effective*
of removing spots of paint from ■■
Moisten the- end of a parlor mato* I
rub it on the spots. Then rut
with a dry cloth.