r-.
is
ADAIR COUNTY X2 S
2 '
M . , 1 MI'M'MM'MM
-av
rmAE23 G2F
WILLIAM MacLEOB KAINB
Copjrltht. 1907. by
SYNOPSIS.
CHAITER I As a representative of
Ciia government Gordon KUlot is on bla
-rxy to Alaska to Investigate coal claims.
Oc tho boat he meets and becomes in
lcetsted In a fellow passenger whom he
learns Ib Sheba O'Neill, also "going In."
-Colby Macdonald, active head of the land
Sf2JjbIng syndicate under investigation,
sctrxes aboard. Macdonald is attacked by
mine laborers whom he had discharged.
i3sil the active intervention of Elliot prob
xbly saves his life.
CHAPTER II Elliot and Macdonald
("become in a measure friendly, though the
Waiter does not know that Elliot is on a
-znlssion which threatens to spoil plans of
.Alacdonald to acquire millions of dollars
through the unlawful exploitation of im-.-sicnsely
valuable coal fields. Elliot also
"Kets a line" on the position occupied by
VaIy Selfrldge, Macdonald's right-hand
isttazi, who Is returning from a visit to
"tfco States," where he had gone in an
attcrt to convince the authorities that
tb-e was nothing wrong In Macdonald's"
-nitiK3ds.
CHAPTER III Elliot secures an intro
tSiictisa to Miss O'Neill and while the
Ubcxt is taking on freight the pair set out
So -climb a locally famous mountain. They
-venture too high and reach a position
iram which it is Impossible for Miss
O'Neill to go forward or turn back.
CHAPTER TV Elliot leaves Sheba and
&.t Imminent peril of his life goes for as-
aistaace. He meetn Macdonald, who had
,ytme alarmrd for their safety, and they
.iStirtt and rescue Sheba.
CHAPTER V Landing at Kusiak El
liot Sn.N that old friends of his. Mr. and
Mrt. P.iet. are the people whom Sheba
bat coipe to visit. Mrs. Paget is Sheba's
-ottstn. t dinner Elliot reveals to Mac
fonald he objet of his coming to Alas
lot. Tli two men, naturally antagonistic.
-ww al. become rivals for the hand of
Sheba
CHAFER VI Macdonald, foreseeing
'"a.ilure -if his financial plans if Elliot
rfaTnE -'ie facts, sends Selfrldge to Ka
s'iaI. arrange matters so that Elliot
will 'of- reived as to the true situation.
x . "ffi ini ivnti-tf- ji hio Ttv l r
Earfur,' .ii. wanders from the trail. He
'- Lll J IjltlWU Jl 4AIO 111.1 VU
ty-i -.. horse in a marsn ana is com-
Vt , tliTrtTi nwar i-ifln nnrl nrnvI3inTl:
uii ail unnecessary -clothing. After long
Mrusgij he realizes, that he will never
i. .. .j.aittin, wiiu ivjibJ ?.. .w
'. imorlili onrt rncltmo ntrrenlf Tf
teaxh.
-An'1 he's good," added Sheba eager-
.j. "iv never tains or it. but one
6als tut splendid things he has done."
Tbe :.oung.man smiled, but not at all
wofrz-Siiouslv. Ho liked the stanch
jB&ilfc 'f the girl in her friend, even
tfewtch ids Investigations had not led
Mm to accept goodness as the out-
..seiwllng quality of the Scotsman. ,
-1 don't know what we would do i ion through a sun-bathed universe
wi'Hout him." Diane went on. "Give I washed clean of sordidness and mean
.Ji.r ten y rs and a free hand and j ness
J&H&a wil' i fit for white people to ; It was the seventh night out that
Wve in. 11 - attacks on him by news-
.gspes-s and . igazines are an outrage."
"It's plain that you are a partisan,"
- charged Gordon gayly.
Tm against locking up Alaska and
throwing away the key, if that is what
jm moan by a partisan. We need this
-ownitr.- opened up the farms settled,
tae mi -.es worked, the coal fields de
vilojht . railroads built."
-T2j. Kusiak chamber of commerce
aeglit send you out as a lecturer to
gg- ;mblic opinion, Diane. You are
-ane est lusiastic little booster for free-1
opportunity" laughed the
an.
-.veil!" Diane joined in his
It was one of her good
oat she could laugh at herself.
say I do sound like a real es-
.innblet, but it's all true any-
Jiarc.'
Ctortl n left Kusiak as rcluot
"WaJJjr Selfridge had done, thou
1 -f s
' V jz&-ir
9 -"
""Feefty-mile Swamp Ees a Monster
That Swallows Men Alive."
-.reasons for not wanting to go were
qtiite different They centered about
. dusky-eyed young woman whom he
bad seen for the first time a fortnight
Sefore. He would have denied even to
almself that he was in love, but when
ever he was alone his thoughts re--srerted
to Sheba O'Neill.
At the big bend Gordon left the river
boat for his cross-country trek. Near
4Iie roadhouse was an Indian village
-where he had expected to get a guide
-ibr the journey to Kamatlah. But the
-JSsMng season had begun, and the men
l&ad all gone down river to take part
r
2Fzfl& JV&Z85Z5BT
William MacLeod P.alne.
The old Frenchman who kept the
trading-post and roadhouse advised
Gordon not to attempt the tramp alone.
"The trail it ees what you call dan
gerous. Feefty-Mile Swamp ees a mon
ster .that swallows men alive, mon
sieur. You wait one week two week
free week, and some one will turn
up to take you through," he urged.
"But I can't wait. And I have an of
ficial map of the trail. Why can't I
follow it without a guide?" Elliott
wanted to know impatiently.
The post-trader shrugged. "Maybeso,
monsieur maybe not. Feefty-Mlle it
ees one devil of a trail. No checha
koes are safe in there without a guide.
I, Baptiste, know."
"Selfridge and his party went
through a week ago. I can follow the
tracks they left."
"But if It rains, monsieur, the tracks
will vaneesh, n'est ce pas? Lose the
way, and the little singing folk will
swarm in clouds about monsieur while
he stumbles through the swamp."
Elliot hesitated for the better part
of a day, then came to an impulsive
decision. lie had a reliable map, and
anyhow he had only to follow the
tracks left by the Selfridge party. lie
turned his back upon the big river and
plunged into the wilderness.
There came a night when he looked
up into the stars of the deep, still sky
and knew that he was hundreds of
miles from any other human being.
Never in all his life had he been so
much alone. He was not afraid, but
there was something awesome in n
..
nAll r.n ab-J- . f T.I,-. 1 . ! .1
"ullu B" tuiinj ui ma muu.
rri,n ,.i.-e e iir 5niM,i(m nm-fr
vf.v i ij
grew fainter after a night of rain. More
rojn fen. and thev were obliterated nl-
' v
, ,,
togeincr.
Gordon fished. He killed fresh game
ior jus neeus. witen ne came on tne
tracks of moose and caribou. Some-
tlmes' startled, they leaped into view
lulie close enougn lor a snot, out ne
usea m rme oniy to meet nis wants
ii-.y.i ...
The way led through valley and
morass, across hills and mountains. I
wandered in a sort of haphazard fash
Elliot suspected he was oil the trail
Rain sluiced dowi! in torrents and next
day continued to pour from a dun sky.
His own tracks were blotted out and
he searched for the trail in vain. Be
fore he knew it he was entangled in
Fifty-Mile. His map showed him tho
morass stretched for fifty miles to the
"Come, Old Timer. One Plunge and
You'll Make It Yet"
south, but he knew that it had been
charted hurriedly by a surveying party
which had made no extensive explora
tions. A good deal of this country was
terra Incognita. It ran vaguely into a
No Man's Land unknown to the pros
pector. The going was heavy. Gordon had
to pick his way through the mossy
swamp, leading the pack-horse by the
bridle. Sometimes he was ankle-deep
in water of a greenish slime. Again
he had to drag the animal from the
bog to a hummock of grass which gave
a spongy footing. This would end in
another quagmire of peat through
which they must plow with the mud
sucking at their feet. It was hard,
wearing toll. There was nothing to do
but keep moving. The young man
staggered forward till dusk. Utterly
exhausted, he camped for the night on
a hillock of moss that rose like an
Island In the swamp.
Elliot traveled next day by the com
pass. He had food for three days
more, but he knew that no living mdn
had the strengtfh to travel for so long
la such a morass. It was near mid
day when, he lost his. horca. Tha oni.
lb
iintly as I fiAuxK -v5 V H"' P
gh his i AiVVS tiHS)- nSm
t rs -1 'r-sir
mal had bogged down several times
and Gordon had wasted much time and
spent a good deal of needed energy in
dragging it to firmer footing. This time
the pony refused to answer the whip.
Its master unloaded pack and saddle.
He tried coaxing; he tried the whip.
"Come, Old-Timer. One plunge, and
you'll make it yet," he urged.
The pack-horse turned upon him.
dumb eyes of reproach, struggled to
free its limbs from the mud, and sank
down helplessly. It had traveled its
last yard on the long Alaska trails.
After the sound of the shot had died
away, Gordon struggled with the pack
to the nearest hummock. He cut holes
in a gunny-sack to fit his shoulders
and packed into it his blankets, a
saucepan, the beans, the coffee, and
the diminished handful of flour. Into
it went, too, the three slices of bacon
that were left.
no hoisted the pack to his back and
slipped his arms through the slits he
had made. Painfully he labored for
ward over the quivering peat. Some
times he stumbled and went down into
the oozing mud, minded to stay there
and be done with the struggle. But
the urge of life drove him to his feet
again. It carried him for weary miles
after he despaired of ever covering
another hundred yards.
With old. half-forgotten signals from
the football field he spurred his will.
Perhaps his mind was already begin
ning to wander, though through it all
he hold steadily to the direction that
alone could save him.
When at last he went down to stay it
was in an exhaustion so complete that
not even his indomitable will could
lash him to his feet again. For an
hour he lay in a stupor, never stirring
even to fight the swarm of mosquitoes
that buzzed about him.
Toward evening ho sat up and undid
the pack from his back. The matches,
in a tin box wrapped carefully with
oilskin, were still perfectly dry. Soon
he had a fire going and coffee boiling
in the frying-pan. From the tin cup he
carried strung on his belt he drank
the coffee. It went through him like
strong liquor. Ho warmed some beans
and fried himself a slice of bacon,
sopping up the grease with a cold bis
cuit left over from the day before.
Again he slept for a few hours. He
had wound his watch mechanically and
It showed him four o'clock when he
took up the trail once more. In Seattle
and San Francisco people were still
asleep and darkness was heavy over
the land. Here it had been day for a
long time, ever since the summer sun,
hidden for a while behind the low, dis
tant hills, had come blazing forth again
in a saddle between two peaks.
Gordon had reduced his pack by dis
carding a blanket, the frying-pan, and
all the clothing he was not wearing,
nis rifle lay behind him in tne swamp.
He had cut to a minimum of safety
what he was carrying, according to his
judgment. But before long his last
blanket was flung aside. He could not
afford to carry an extra pound, for he
knew he was running a race, the stakes
of which were life and death.
Afternoon found him still staggering
forward. The swamps were now be
hind him. He had won through at last
by the narrowest margin possible. The
ground was rising sharply toward the
mountains. Across the range some
where lay Kamatlah. But he was all
in. With his food almost gone, a wa
ter supply uncertain, reserve strength
exhausted, the chances of getting over
the divide to safety were practically
none.
He had come, so far as he could see,
to the end of the passage.
CHAPTER VIII.
Gid Holt Gees Prospecting.
As -soon as Selfridge reached Kamat
lah he began arranging the stage
against the arrival of the government
agent. His preparations were elab
orate and thorough. A young engineer
named Howland had been in charge of
the development work, but Wally re
arranged his forces so as to let each
dummy entryman handle the claim en
tered in his name. One or two men
about whom he was doubtful he dis
charged and hurried out of the camp.
The company boarding house became
a restaurant, above which was sus
pended a newly painted sign with the
legend, "San Francisco Grtll, J. Glynn,
Proprietor." ,The store also passed
temporarily into the hands of its mana
ger. Miners moved from the barracks
that had been built by Macdonald into
hastily constructed cabins on the in
dividual claims. Wally had always
fancied himself as a stage manager for
amateur theatricals. Now he justified
his faith by transforming Kamatlah
outwardly from a company camp to a
mushroom one settled by wandering
prospectors.
Gideon Holt alone was outside of all
these activities and watched them with
suspicion. He was an old-timer, sly
but fearless, who hated Colby Macdon
ald with a bitter jealousy that could
not be placated and he took no pains
to hide the fact. He had happened to
be In the vicinity prospecting when
Macdonald had rushed his entries.
Partly out of mere perversity and part
ly by reason of native shrewdness, old
Holt had slipped in and located one of
the best claims in the heart of the
group. Nor had he been moved by per
suasion, threats, or tentative offers to
buy a relinquishment He was obsti
nate. He knew a good thing when he
had It, and he meant to sit tight
The adherents of the company might
charge that Holt was cracked in the
upper story, but none of them denied
he was sharp as a street arab. He
guessed that all this preparation was
not for nothing. Kamatlah was being
dressed up to Impress somebody who
would shortly arrive. .The first thought
or jjolt was that a group of big capi
talists might be coming to look over
their investment. But he rejected this
surmise. There would be no need to
try any deception upon them.
Mail from Seattle reached camp once
a month. Holt sat down before hl3
stove to read one of the newspapers he
had brought from the office. It was
the P.-I. On the fifth page wao a
little story that gave him his clue.
ELLIOT TO INVESTIGATE
MACDONALD COAL CLAIMS
The reopening of tjie controversy as
to the Macdonald claims, which had
been clear-listed for patent by Harold
B. Winton. the Commissioner of the
General Land Office, takes on another
phase with the appointment of Gordon
Elliot as special field agent to examine
the validity of the holdings. The new
field agent won a reputation by his
work in unearthing the Oklahoma
"Gold Brick" land frauds.
Elliot leaves Seattle in the Queen
City Thursday for the North, where
he will make a thorough investigation
of the whole situation with a view to
clearing up the matter definitely. If
his report is favorable to the claimants
the patents will be granted without
further delay.
This was too good to keep. Holt
pulled on his boots and went out to
twit such of the enemy as he might
meet. It chanced that the first of them
was Selfridge. whom he had not seen
since his arrival, though he knew the
little man was in camp.
"How goes it, Holt? Fine and
dandy, eh?" inquired Wally with the
professional geniality he affected.
The old miner shook his head dole
fully. "I done bust my laig, Mr. Sel
fish!" he groaned. It was one of his
pleasant ways to affect a difficulty of
hearing and a dullness of understand
ing, so that he could legitimately call
people by distorted versions of their
names. "The old man don't amount to
much nowadays."
"Nothing to that, Gid. You're young
er than you ever were, judging by your
looks."
"Then my looks He to beat the devil,
Mr. Selfish."
"My name is Selfridge," explained
Wally, a trifle irritated.
Holt put a cupped hand to his car
anxiously. "Shellfish, did you say?
Tha' 's right. How come I to forget?
The old man's going pretty fast, Mr.
Shellfish. No more memory than a
jackrabbit. Say. Mr. Shellfish, what's
the idee of all this here back-to-the-pcople
movement, as the old sayin' is?"
"I don't know what you mean. And
my name is Selfridge, I tell you,"
snapped the owner of that name.
"'Course I ain't got no more sense
than the law allows. I'm a buzzard
haid, but me I kinder got to millin' it
over and in respect to these here local
improvements, as you might say, I'm
doggoned if I sabe the whyfor."
"Just some business changes."
Holt showed his tobacco-stained
tooth in a grin splenetic. "Oh. That's
all. 1 didn't know but what you
might be expecting a visitor."
Selfridge flashed a sharp sidelong
glance at him. "What do you mean a
visitor?"
"I just got a notion mebbe you might
be looking for one, Mr. Pelfrich. Like
as not you alfi't fixing up for this Gor
don Elliot a-tall."
Wally had no come-back, unless it
was one to retort In ironic admiration.
"You're a wonder, Holt. Pity you don't
start n detective bureau."
The old man went away cackling.
If Selfridge had held any doubts be
fore, he discarded them now. Holt
would wreck the whole enterprise,
were he given a chance. It would never
do to let Elliot meet and tall: with him.
lie knew too much, and he was eager
to tell all he knew.
Macdonald's lieutenant got busy at
once with plans to abduct Holt. "We'll
send tho old man off on a prospecting
trip with some of the boys," explained
Selfridge to Howland. "That way we'll
kill two birds. He's back on his a?
soxsment work. The time limit will be
up before he returns and we'll start a
content for the claim."
Howland made no comment. He was
an engineer and not a politician. In
his position it was impossible for him
not to know that a good deal about
the legal status of the Macdonald
claims was Irregular. But he was
a firm believer in a wid-open Alaska,
in the use of the territory by those
who had settled it.
"Better arrange it with Big Bill,
then, but don't tell me anything about
it. I don't want to know the details,"
he told Selfridge.
Big Bill Macy accepted the job with
a grin. He had never liked old Holt,
anyhow. Besides, they were not going
to do him any harm.
nolt was baking a match of sour
dough bread that evening when there
came a knock at the cabin door. At
sight of Big Bill and his two compan
ions the prospector closed the oven
and straightened with alert suspicion.
He was not on visiting terms with any
of these men. Why had they come to
see him?
"We're going prospecting up Wild
Goose creek, and we want you to gc
along, Gid," explained Macy. "You're
an old sour-dough miner, and we-all
agree we'd like to have you throw In
with us. What say?"
The old miner's answer was direct
but not flattering. "What do I want to
go on a wild-goose mush with a bunch
of bums for?" he shrilled.
Bill Macy scratched his hook nose
and looked reproachfully at his host
At least Holt thought he was looking
at him. One could not be sure, for
Bill's eyes did not exactly track.
"What's the use of snapping at me
like a turtle? Durden says Wild Goose
looks fine. There's gold up there
heaps of It"
"Let it stay there, then. I aln'f
going. That's flat." Holt turned to
adjust the damper of his stove.
"Oh, I don't know. I wouldn't say
that," drawled Bill insolently.
rxne man' at the stove caught the
change In tone and turned quickly. He
was too late. Macy had thrown him
self forward and the weight of his
body flung Holt against the wall. Be
fore the miner could recover, the other
two men were upon him. They bore
Wm to the floor and in spite of his
struggles tied him hand and foot
Big Bill rose and looked down derl
sively at his prisoner. "Better change
your mind and go with us, Holt. We'll
spend a quiet month up at the head
quarters of Wild Goose. Say you'll
come along."
"What are you going to do with
me?" demanded Holt
"I reckon you need a church to fall
on you before you can take a hint.
Didn't I mention Wild Goose creek
three or four times?" jeered his captor.
Holt made no further protest. He
was furious, but at present quite help
loss. However It went against the
grain, he might as well give in until re
bellion would do some good.
Ten minutes later the party was
moving silently along the trail that
led to the hills. The pack horse went
first, In charge of George Holway. The
prisoner walked next, his hands tied
behind him. Big Bill followed, and
the man he had called Dud brought up
the rear.
Macy had released the hands of his
prisoner so that he might have a
chance to fight the mosquitoes, but he
kept a wary eye upon him and never
let him move more than a few feet
from him. The trail grew steeper as It
neared the head of the canyon till at
last it climbed the left wall and
emerged from the gulch to an uneven
mesa.
The leader of the party looked at
his watch. "Past midnight We'll
-arup here, George, and see If w'e can't
got rid of the 'skeeters."
They built smudge fires of green
wood and on the lee side of these an
other one of dry sticks. Dud made
coffee upon this and cooked bacon.
While George chopped wood for the
fires and boughs of small firs for bed
ding. Big Bill sat with a rifle across
his knees just back of the prisoner.
"Gid's a shifty old cuss, and I ain't
taking any chances," he explained
aloud to Dud.
Holt was beginning to take the out
rage philosophically. He slept peace
fully while they took turns watching
him. Just now there would be no
chance to escape, but In a few days
they would become careless. The
habit of feeling that they had him se-
curely would grow upon them. Then,
reasoned Holt, his opportunity would
come. One of the guards would take
a chance. It was not reasonable to
suppose that in ths next week or two
he would not catch them napping ones
for a short ten seconds.
There was, of course, just the pos
sibility that they intended to murder
him, but Holt could not associate Self
ridge with anything so lawless. The
man was too soft of fiber to carry
through such a program, and as yet
there was need of nothing so drastic.
No, this kidnaping expedition would
not run to murder. He would be set
free in a few weeks, and if he told the
true story of where he had been his
foes would spread the report that he
was Insane in his hatred of Macdonald
and Imagined all sorts of persecutions.
They followed Wild Goose creek all
next day, getting always closer to its
headwaters near the divide. On the
third day they crossed to the other
side of the ridge and descended into
a little mountain park.
The country was so much a primeval
wilderness that a big bull moose
stalked almost upon their camp before
discovering the presence of a strange
biped. Big Bill snatched up a rille and
took a shot which sent the intruder
scampering.
From somewhere in the distance
came a faint sound.
"What was that?" asked George.
"Sounded like a shot Mebbe it was
an echo," returned Dud.
"Came too late for an echo," Big Bill
said.
Again faintly from some far corner
of the basin the sound drifted. It was
like the pop of a scarcely heard tire
cracker. The men looked at one another and
at their prisoner.
"Think we better' break camp and
drift?" asked Dud.
"No. We're in a little draw here
as good a hiding place as we'd be llke-
A Man Staggered Drunkenly Into View.
ly to find. Drive the horses Into thej
brush, George. We'll sit tight"
Dud had been busy stamping out
Qi
tue cnmpnre wmie uoiway was driv
ing the horses Into the brush.
"Mebbe you had better get the camp
things behind them big rocks," Macy
conceded.
Even as he spoke there came the
crack of a revolver almost at the en
trance to the draw.
One of the men swore softly. Tha
gimlet eyes of the old miner fastened
on the spot whore in another moment
his hoped-for rescuers would appear.
A man staggered drunkenly into
view, ne reeled halfway across the
mouth of the draw and stopped. His
eyes, questing dully, fell u?on the
camp. He stared, as if doubtful
whether they had played him false,
then lurched toward the waiting group.
"Lost and all in," Holway said in a
whisper to Dud.
The other man nodded. Neither of
them made a move toward the
stranger, who stopped in front of their
camp and looked with glazed eyes
from one to another, nis face was
drawn and haggard and lined. Ex
treme exhaustion showed in every
movement He babbled incoherently.
"Don't you see he's starving and out
of his head?" snapped Holt brusquely.
"Get him grub, pronto."
The old man rose and moved toward
the suffering man. "Come, pard. Tha's
all right Sit down right here and
go to it, as the old sayin is." He led
the man to a place beside Big Bill
and made him sit down. "Better light
a fire, boys, and get some coffee on.
Don't give him too much solid grub
at first"
The famished man ate what was
given him and clamored for more.
"Coming up soon, pardner," Holt
told him soothingly. "Now tell us
how come you to get lost"
The man nodded gravely. "Hit that
line low, Gord. Hit 'er low. Only
throe yards to gain."
"Plumb bughouse," commented Dud,
chewing tobneco stolid'y.
"Out of his head that's all. He'll
be right enough after he's fed up ami
had a good sleep. But right now he's
Mire some Exhibit A. Look at the
bones sticking through his cheeks,"
Big Bill commented.
"Come, Old-Tinier. Get down in
your collar to it Once more now.
Don't 1' down on the job. All together,
now." The stranger clucked to an
imaginary horse end made a motion
of lifting with his hands.
"Looks like his luiwss is bogged
down in Fifty Mile swamp," suggested
Holt.
"Looks like." agreed Dud.
The old miner said no more. But his
eyes narrowed to shining slits. If this
man had come through Fifty Mile
swamp, he must have started from the
rivor. That probably meant that he
had come from Kusiak. He was a
young man. talking the jargon of n
college football player. Without doubt
lit was, in the old phrasing of the
North, a chechako.
Gideon Holt's sly brain moved keen
ly to the possibility that he could put
a name to this human derelict they
had picked up. He began to see it
as more than a possibility, as even a
probability, at least as a fifty-fifty,
chance. A sardonic grin hovered about
the corners of his grim mouth. It
would be a strange freak of irony If
Wally Selfridge, to prevent a meeting
between him and the government land
agent, had sent him a hundred miles
into the wilderness to save the life of
Gordon Elliot and so had brought
about the meeting that otherwise
would never have taken place.
Continued next week
From Mississippi.
Camp Shelby, Dec. 27th '17.
The Adair County News.
Dear Sir:
This fine warm p. m. will
write a few lines to let my friends
know where I am located. This
leave3 me fine Have gained
ten pounds since I have been at
this place. All the hoys from
Adair county are wll except Rob
ert Arnold, of Knifiey. He has
oneumonia, but is impDving
slowly. The News is a welcome
visitor to my tent every Friday
evening. 1 will close by saying
I would be glad to hear from
any of my friends.
Yours truly,
John Weatherford,
131 M.J. B. N. Co. D.
Camp Shelby, Miss.
A Bargain.
The Farmers Home Journal is recog
nized as the leading farm paper of
the State. Every farmer should sub
scribe for it- We have made a special
arrangement with the publisher of the
Farmers' Home Journal by which
that paper and the Adair County
ISews are put in reach of all. Here it
is:
Farmers' H. Journal, per year ?1.00.
Adair County News per year S1.00.
Both one year for S1.65.
This proposition will be good for
several weeks. Subscribe now.
THE ADAIR COUNTY NEWS $1.50
I
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