Atlanta semi-weekly journal., February 02, 1909, Page 8, Image 8

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8
Illustrated By
Denman Fink
, CONTINUATION OF CHAP. VIII. —
The Knife.
* . “If you were a business man Instead of
H * lighting person you would listen to
my proposition before you declined it. I’ll
H make the price right. and you may pay
R ms when we get behind yonder clump of
bushes." Fbe pouted her Ups Invitingly.
’ but he declared she was a minor and as
| Such her bargain would not hold.
It was evidently he. mood to re-enter
r the land of whims and travel again, as
they had on the way from town, but he
knew that to? him such a thing could not
’ be. for his eyes had cleared since then.
Be knew that he could never again wan
der through the happy valley, for he
vowed this maid should be no plaything
for him or any other man. and as there
could be no honorable end to this affair,
it must terminate at once. Just
. bow this was to be consummat
ed he had not determined as
yet. nor did he like to set about its
solution. It hurt him so to think of los
ing her. However, she was very young.
J, only a child, and in time would come to
5 count him but a memory, no doubt; while
as for him—well, it would be hard to for
get her. but he could and would. He
reasoned glibly that this was the only
I -honest Dour?-. and his reasoning con
vinced him; then, all of a sudden, the
pressure of her warm lips came upon him
and the remembrance upset every
promise and process of his logic. Never
thalees. he was honest in his stubborn
K getermlnatton to conclude the affair, and
finally decided to let time show him the
way.
" She soeme-'. to be very happy, her mood
being tn marked contrast to that of
Poleon and the trader, both of whom had
fallen silent and gloomy, and in whom
the hours wrought no change. The latter
had tacitly acknowledged his treachery
toward Stark on the previous night, but
beyond that he would not go. offering no
motive, excuse or explanation, choosing
to stand in the eyes of his friend as an
intended murderer. notwithstanding
which Poleon let the matter drop—for
was not his friend a good man? Had he
not been tried in a hundred ways? The
young Frenchman knew there must
I have been strong reason for Gale's out
burst. and was content to trust him
Without puzzling his mind to discover
the cause of it.
Now, a secret must either grow or die—
there Is no fallow age for it—and this one
had lived with Gale for fifteen years,
until It had made an old man of him. It
weighed him down until the desire to be
rid of it almost became overpowering at
times; but his caution was ingrained and
powerful, and so It was that he resisted
the temptation to confide in his partner.
? although the effort left him tired and
E inert. The only one to whom he could
talk was Alluna—she understood, and
- though she might not help, the sound of
his own voice at least always afforded
him some relief.
As to Poleon. no one had ever seen him
thus. Never tn all his life of dream and
song and romance had he known a heavy
heart until now, for If at timer he had
wept like a girl, it was at the hurts of
I others He had loved a bit and gambled
much, with equal misfortune, and the
next day he had forgotien. He had lived
the free, clean life of a man who wins
? joyously or goes down with defiance in
* hts throat, but this venomous thing that
Runnion had planted in him had seeped
, and circulated through his being until
every fibre was penetrated with a bitter
poison. Most of his troubles could be
grappled with bare hands, but here was
| one against which force would not avail,
hence he was unhappy.
The party reached Flambeau on the
• following day. sufficiently ahead of Stark
and his men for Lee to make known his
find to his friends, and by sinset the
. place was depopulated, while a line of
men could be seen creeping slowly up
the valleys.
Gale found Alluna In charge of the
•tore, but no opportunity of talking clone
L> with her occurred until late in the even-
Ing. after Necla had put the two little
| ones to bed and haa followed them weari
ly. Then he told his squaw. She took the
Dews better than he expected, and show
| ed no emotion arch as other women
would have displayed, even when he told
| her of the gunshot. Instead, she Inquired:
f ••Why did you try it there before all
those others?' (
••Well, when I heard him talking, the
wish to kill hint was more than 1 could
stand, and it came on me all at once, so
that 1 was mad. I suppose. I never
did the like before." Hhe half shuddered
- at the memory.
K “I *m worry.” -he said.
“Tee! So am I.”
r. “Sorry that you failed, for you will
Sever have as good a chance again. What
■ was the matter with your atm? I have
seen you hit a knot-hole, shooting from
| the hip."
"The man to charmed." declared Gale.
“He’s bullet proof.”
••There are people. * she agreed, “that a
gunshot will not Injure. There was a
man like that among my people—my
tether ." enemy—but he was not proof
■gainst stec;.'
B , "Tour old man knifed him. eh?"
She nodded.
"Ugh!” the man sl:iver«*d. "I couldn't
do that. A gun is a straight man's friend
but a knife is the weapon of traitors.
- I couldn’t drive It home."
| "Does this man suspect V
r “No."
‘Then it is child's play. We will lay
■ trap."
"No. by God!” Gale interrupted her
hotly "I tried that kind of work, and
it won't do. I'm no murderer.
“Those are only words." said the wom
an. quietly. 'To kill your enemy is the
Jaw."
The only light in the room came from
the stove, a great iron cylinder made
from a coal-oil tank that lay on a rect
i' angular bed cf sand held Inside of four
' timbers, with a doo- in one end to take
whole lengths of cc.riwocd. and whftrh.
being open. It the space in rfont. throw
ing the sides and corners of the place into
blacker mystery. .
When he made no answer the squaw
slipped out into the snadows. leaving
him staring into the flames, to retut a
WINCHESTER.
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Winchester cartridges in all
r ' ca l* bcr ® from .22 to .50, shoot
where you aim when the trigger
bis pulled. They are always
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1 Skwt them and You’ll Shoot Well.
Always Buy Winchester Make.
THE RED BRAND
L-- .-
THE BARRIER
Nove! By REX "BEACH All Rights Reserved
AUTHOR OF "THE SPOILERS”
a moment later bearing something in het
hands, which she placed in his. It w
a knife in a scabbard, old and worn.
"There is no magic than can turn
bright steel,” she said, then squatted
again in the dimness outside of the
firelight. Gale slid the case from the long
blade and held it in his palm, letting
the firelight flicker on it. He balanced
it and tested the feel of its handle
against his palm, then tried the edge ot
it with his thumb nail, and found it
honed like a razor.
"A child could kill with it.” said Al
luna. Both edges of the blade are so
thin that a fingers weight will bury
it. One should hold the wrist firmly
till it pierces through the coat, that is
all—after that the flesh takes it easily,
Ujte butter."
The glancing, glinting light flashing
from the deadly thing seemed to fasci
nate the man, for he held it a long
while silently. Then he spoke.
"For fifteen years I’ve been a haunted
man. with a soul like a dark and dismal
garret peopled with bats and varmints
that flap and flutter all the time. I used
to figger that if I killed this man I'd
kill that memory, too, and those flitting,
noiseless things would leave me. but the
thought of doing It made me afraid every
time, so I ran away, which never did
no good—you can’t outfoot a memory—
and I knew all the while that wed
meet sooner or later. Now that the day
is here at last, I’m not ready for it. I'd
like to run away again if there was any
place to run to, but I've followed front
iers till I’ve seen them disappear one
by one; I've retreated till my back is
against the circle, and there lan t any fur
ther land to go to. All the time I’ve
prayed and planned for this meeting, and
yet—l’m undecided.”
••Kill him!” said Alluna.
"God knows I’ve always hated trouble,
whereas It's what he lives on. I’ve al
ways wanted to die in bed. while he s
been a killer all his life and the sfhoke
hangs forever in his eyes. Only for an
accident we might have lived here all
our days and never had a 'run-in,' which
make me wonder if I hadn't better let
things go on as they are."
"Kill him! It is the law,” repeated Al
luna, stubbornly, but he put her aside
with a slow shake of the head and arose
as If wry tired.
"No!*I don’t think I can do It—not tn
cold blood, anyhow. Good night! I’m go
ing to sleep on it.” He crossed to the
door of his room, but as he went she
noted that he slipped the knife and scab
bard inside the bosom of his shirt.
CHAPTER IX.—The Awakening.
Early the next morning Corporal Thom
as came into the store and found Necia
tending It while Gale was out. Ever since
the day she had questioned him about.
Burrell, this old man had tawen every oc
casion to talk with the girl, and when
he asked her this morning about the re
ports concerning Lee's strike, she told
him of her trip, and all that had oc
curred.
"You see. I'm a mine-owner now,” she
concluded. "If it hadn’t been a secret I
would have told you before so you could
have been one of the first.”
"I’m goin*. anyhow,” he said, “if the
Lieutenant will let me and If it’s not too
late.”
Then she told him of the trail by Black
Bear creek which would save him several
hours.
“So that’s now you and he made it?”
he observed, gazing at her shrewdly. “I
supposed you wept with your father?”
”Oh, no! We beat him in,” she said,
and fell to musing at the memory of those
hours passed alone with Meade, while
her eyes shone and her cheeks glowed.
The corporal saw the look, and it bore out
a theory he had former during the past
month, so, as he lingered, he set
about a task that had lain in his mind
for some time. As a rule he was not
a careful man in his speech, and the
delicacy of this maneuver taxed his
ingenuity to the utmost, for he loved
the girl and feared to say too much.
“The lieutenant is a smart young
fellow,” he began; "and it was slick
work jumpin' ail those claims. It’s just
like him to befriend a girl like you—
I’ve seen him do it before —
"What!” exclaimed Necia, "befriend
other girls?"
"Or things just like it. He’s always
doing favors that get him into trou
ble.” ,
"This couldn’t cause him trouble,
could it. outside of Stark's and Run
nion's grudge T'
“No, I reckon not,” assented the cor
poral. groping blindly for some way of
expressing what he wished to say. "Ex
cept, of course, it might cause a lot of
talk at headquarters when it's known
what he's done for you and how he
done It. I heard something it
down the street this morntng, so I'm
afraid it will get to St. Michael’s, and
then to hts folks.” He realized that he
was not getting on well, for the task
was harder than he had imagined.
"I don't understand,” said Necia. “He
hasn’t done anything that any man
wouldn't do under the circumstances."
"No man's got a right to make folks
talk about a nice girl,” said the corpor
al "and the fellow that told me about
it said he reckoned you two was in
love." He hurried along now without
giving her a chance to speak. “Os
course, that had to be caught up quick;
your’e too fine a girl for that.”
"I mean you’re too fine and good to
let him put you in wrong, just as he’s
too fine a fellow and got too much ahead
of him to mak<* what his people would
call a messy-alliance."
“Would his people object to—to such
a thing?*’ questioned the girl. They
were alone in the store so they could
talk freely. “I'm just supposing, you
know.”
! "Oh. Lord! would they object?” Cor
; poral Thomas laughed in a highly arti
; flcial manner that made Necla bridle
I and draw her self up indignantly.
“Why should they, I’d like to know?
1 m just as pretty as other girls, and
j I’m just as good. I know just as much
I as they do. too, except—-about certain
; things.”
"You sure all of that, and more, too,"
I the corporal declared, heartily, “but if
THE ATLANTA SEMIVtEEKLY JOURNAL, ATLANTA, GEORGIA, TUESDAY, FEBRUARY «, 1909.
you knowed more about things outside
you’d understand why it ain't possible.
I can’t tell you without hurtln’ your
feelin’s, and I like you too much for
that. Miss Necla. Seems as if I'm al
most a daddy to you, and I’ve only
knowed you for a few weeks —”
"Go ahead and tell me; I won't be
offended." insisted the girl. "You must.
I don't know much about such things,
for I've lived all my life with men like
father and Poleon, and the priests at
tne mission, who treat me just like one
of themselves. But somebody will want
to marry me some day, I suppose, so I
ought to know what is wrong with me ’’
She flushed up darkly under her brown
cheeks.
1 he feeling came over Corporal Thom
as that he had hurt a helpless ani
mal of some gentle kind; that he was
bungling his work, and that he was not
of the caliber to go into the social
amenities. He began to perspire, un
comfortably, but went on doggedly:
"I'm going to tell you a story, not
because it applies to Lieutenant Burrell,
or because he's in love with you, which
of course he ain't any more than you be
with him—”
“Os course,” said girl.
••—but just to show you what I mean.
It was a good long spell ago, when I was
at Fort Supply, which was the frontier
in them days like this is now. We freight
ed in from Dodge City with bull teams,
and it was sure the fringe of the frontier;
no women—no society—nothin’ much ex
cept a fort, a lot of Injuns, and a few
officials with their wives and families.
Now them kind of places is all right for
married men, but they’re tough sleddin'
for single ones, and after a while a feller
gets awful careless about himself; he
seems to go backward and run down
mighty quick when he gets away from
civilization and his people and restau
rants and such things; he gets plumb
reckless and forgetful of what's what.
Well, there was a captain with us. a
young feller that looked like the lieuten
ant here, and a good deal the same sort—
high-tempered and chivalrous and all that
sort of thing; a West Pointer, too, good
family and all that, and, wnat’s more, a
captain at twenty-five. Now. our head
freighter was married to a squaw, or
leastways he had been, but in them days
nobody thought much of it any more
than they do up here now. and particu
larly because he’d had a government con
tract for a long while, ran a big gang of
men and critters, and had made a lot
of money. Likewise he had a girl, who
lived at the fort, and was mighty nice
to look at, and restful to the eye after
a year or so of cactus-trees and mesquite
and buffalo-grass. She was twice as nice
and twice as pretty as the women at the
post, and as for money—well, her dad
could have bought and sold all the offi
cers in a lump; but they and their wives
looked down on her, and she didn’t mix
with them none whatever. To make it
short, the captain married her. Seemed
like he got disregarded of everything, and
the hunger to have a woman just over
powered him. She'd been courted by every
single man for four hundred miles
around. She was pretty and full of fire,
and they was both of an age to love
hard, so Jefferson swore he'd make the
other women take her; but soldierin’ is
a heap different from any other profes
sion, and the army has got its own tradi
tions. The plan wouldn’t work. By-and-by
the captain got tired of trying, and gave
up the attempt—just devoted himself to
her—and then we was transferred, al!
but him. We shifted to a better post, but
Captain Jefferson was chahged to an
other company and had to stay at Sup
ply. Gee! it was a rotten hole. Influence
had been used, and there he stuck, while
,the new officers cut him out completely,
just like the others had done, so I was
told, and It drifted on that way for a
long time, him forever makin’ an uphill
fight to get his wife rec'ognized and al
ways quittln’ loser. His folks back east
was scandalized and froze him cold, call
in' him a squaw-man; and the story went
all through the army, till his brother of
ficers had to treat him cold in order to
keep enough warmth at home to live by,
one thing leading to another till he fi
nally resented it openly. After that he
didn’t last long. They made it so un
pleasant that he quit the service—crowd
ed him out. that's, all. He was a born
soldier, too, and didn’t know nothing else
nor care for nothing else; as fine a man
as I ever served under, but it soured him
so that a rattlesnake couldn’t have lived
with him. He tried to go into some kind
of business after he quit the army,
but he wasn’t cut out for it, and
never made good as long as I knew of
him. The last time I seen him was
down on the border, and he had sure
grown cultus. He had quit the squaw,
who was livin' with a greaser in Tuc
son— ’’
“And do you think I’m like that wo
man?” said Necla, in a queer, strained
voice. She had listened intently to the
corporal's story, but he had purposely
avoided her eyes and could not tell how
she was taking it.
"No! You’re different, but the army
is just the same. I toid you to show
you how it is out in the states. If don’t
apply to you, of course—”
"Os course!” agieed Necla again. "But
what would happen to Lietuenant Burrell
if—if—well, if he should do something
like that? There are many half-breed
girls, I dare say, like this other girl, or
—like me.”
She did not flush now as before; in
stead, her cheeks were pale.
"It would go a heap worse with him
thafl it did with Captain Jefferson," said
the corporal, “for he’s got more anead
of him and he comes from better stock.
Why, his family, is way up! They're
mighty proud, too, and they wouldn’t
stand for his doing such a thing, even
if he wanted to. But he wouldn’t try;
he's got too much sense, and loves the
army too well for that: No, sir! He’ll
go a long ways, tnat boy will, if he’s let
alone.”
“I never thought of myself as an In
dian,” said Necia, dully. "In this
country It’s a person’s heart that
counts."
"That’s how it ought to be,” said the
corporal, heartily; "and I’m mighty
sorry if I’ve hurt you, little girl. Im
a rough old rooster. ant) I never thought
but what you understood all this. Up
here folks look at it right, but outside
it’s mighty different; even yet you don’t
half undertsand.”
"<m glad I’m wnat I am!” cried the
girl. "There’s nothing in my blood to be
ashamed of, and I’m white in here!”
She struck her bosom fiercely. “If a man
loves me he'll take me no matter what
it means to him.”
"Right for you,” assented the other;
"and if I was younger myself, I’d sure
have a lot of nice things to say to you.
If I’d ’a’ had somebody like you I’d
a’ let liquor alone, maybe, and
amounted to sometu.ng, but all I'm good
'for now is to give advice and draw my
pay.’ He slid down from the counter
where he had been sitting. "I’m goin’
to hunt up the lieutenant and get him to
let me off. Mebbe I can stake a claim
and sell it.”
The moment he was gone the girl’s
composure vanished and she gave vent
to her feelings.
"It’s a lie! It’s a lie!” she cried, aloud,
and with her fists she beat the boards in
front of her. “He loves me! I know he
does!" Then she began to tremble and
sobbed: "I’m just like other girls.”
She was still wrestling with herself
when Gale returned, and he started at
tEe look in her face as she approached
him
“Why did you marry my mother?” she
asked. “Why? Why did you do it?”
He saw that she was in a rage, and
answered, bluntly, "I didn’t.”
She shrank at this. “Then why didn’t
you? Shame! Shame! That makes me
worse than I thought I was. Oh, why
did you ever turn squaw-man? Why did
you make me a breed?”
"Look here! What ails you?” said the
trader.
“What ails me?” she mocked. “Why,
I’m neither white nor red; I’m not even
white nor red; I’m not a decent Indian.
I’m a—a“ She shuddered. “You made
me what I am. You didn’t do me the
justice to even marry my mother.”
“Somebody's been saying things about
you," said Gale, quietly, taking her by
the shoulders. “Who is it? Tell me who
it is.”
“No, no! It's not that! Nobody has
said anything to my face; they're afraid
of you, I suppose, but God knows what
they think and say to my back.”
"I’ll—” began the trader, but she In
terrupted him.
“I've just begun to realize what I am.
I’m not respectable. I’m not like other
women, and never can be. I’m a squaw—
a squaw!”
"You’re not!” he cried.
“It’s a nice word. Isn’t it?”
"What's wrong with it?”
“No honest man can marry me. I’m
a vagabond! The best I can get is my
bed and board, like my mother."
"By God! Who offered you that?”
Gale's face was whiter than hers now,
but she disregarded him and abandoned
herself to the tempest of emotion that
swept her along.
‘He can play with me, but nothing
more, and when he is gone another one
can have me, and then another and an
other and another—as long as I can cook
and wash and work. In time my man
will beat me, just like any other squaw,
I suppose, but I can't marry; I can’t be
a wife to a decent man."
She was in the clutch of an hysteria
that made her writhe beneath Gale’s
hand, choking and sobbing, until he
loosed her; then she leaned exhausted
against a post and wiped her eyes, for
the tears were coming now.
“That's all damned rot,” he said.
“There’s fifty good men in this camp
would marry you tomorrow.”
"Bah! I mean real men. not miners.
I want to be a lady. I don't want to
pull a hand-sled and wear moccasins all
my life, and raise children for men with
whiskers. I want to be loved—l want to
be loved! I want to marry a gentleman.’
"Burrell!” said Gale.
“No!" she flared up. "Not him nor
anybody in particular, but somebody like
him, some man with clean finger-nails.’’
He found nothing humorous or gro
tesque in her measure of a gentleman,
for he realized that she was strung to t?
pitch of unreason and unnatural excite
ment, and that she was in terrible earn
est.
"Daughter,” he said. "I'm mighty sorry
this knowledge has come to you. and 1
see it’s my fault, but things are different
now to what they were when I met
Alluna. It wasn't the style to marry
squaws where we came from, and neithei
of us ever thought about It much. We
happy with each other, and we’ve
been man and wife to each other just as
truly as if a priest had mumbled over
us."
"But why didn’t you marry her when I
came? Surely you must have known
what it would mean to me. It was bad
enough without that.”
The old man hesitated. "I’ll own I was
wrong," he said, finally, staring out into
the sunshine with an odd expression. “It
was thoughtless and wrong, dead wrong,
but I’ve loved you better than any
daughter was ever loved in this wide
world, and I’ve worked and starved and
froze and saved, and so has Alluna, so
that you might have something to live
on when I'm gone, and be different to
us. It won’t be long now, I guess./I’ve
given you the best schooling of any
girl on the river, ant) I'd have sent you
out to a convent in the states, but I
couldn’t let you go bo t&r away—God! I
loved you too much for that—l couldn’t
do it, girl. I’ve tried, but you’re all I’ve
got, and I’m a selfish man, I reckon.”
“No, no! You’re • not,” his daughter
cried, impulsively. “You’re everything
that’s good and dear, but you’ve lived a
different life from other men and you
see things differently. It was mean of me
to talk as I did.” She put her arms
around his neck and hugged him. “But
I’m very unhappy, dad.”
“Don’t you aim to tell what started
this?” he said, gently, caressing her with
his great, hard hand as softly as a moth
er. But she shook her head, and he con
tinued, “I’ll take the first boat down to
the mission and marry your ma, ff you
want me to.”
"That wouldn’t do any good,” said she.
“We’d better leave things as they are.”
Then she drew away and smiled at him
bravely from the door. "I’m a very bad
to act this way S'cuses?”
He nodded and she went out, but he
gazed after her for a long minute, then
sighed.
“Poor little girl!”
..ecia was in a restless mood, and, re
membering that Alluna and the children
had gone berrying on the slopes behind
the Indian village, she turned her way
thither. All at once a fear of seeing
Meade Burrell came upon her. She want
ed to think this out, to find where she
stood, before he had word with her. She
had been led to observe herself from a
strange angle, and must verify her vis
ion, as it were. As yet she could not fully
understand. What if he had changed, now
that he was alone, and had had time to
think? It would kill her if she saw any
difference in him, and she knew she
would be able to read it in his eyes.
As she went through the main street of
the camp she saw Stark occupied near
the water front, where he had bought a
building lot. He spoke to her as she
was about to pass.
“Good morning. Miss. Are you rested
from your trip?”
She answered that she was, and would
have continued on her way, but he
stopped her.
“I don’t want you to think that mining
matter was my doing,’’ he said. “I’ve got
nothing against you. Your old man hasn’t
wasted any affection on me, and I can get
along without him. all right, but I don’t
make trouble for girls if I can help it.”
The girl believed that he meant what
he said; his words rang true, and he
spoke seriously. Moreover, Stark . was
known already in the camp as a man
who did not go out of his way to make
friends or to render an accounting of his
I deeds, so It was natural that when he
made her a show of kindness Necia should
treat him with less coldness than might
have been expected. The man had ex
ercised an occult Influence upon her from
the time she first saw him at Lee’s cab
in, but it was too vague for definite feel
ing, and she had been too strongly sway
ed by Poleon and her father in their atti
tude towards him so be conscious of it.
Finding him now, however, in a gentle
humor, she '.vas drawn to him unwitting
ly, and felt an overweening desire to
talk with him, even at the hazard of of
fenefihg her own people. The en
counter fitted in with her rebellious
mood, for there were things she wished
to know, things she must find out froa*
some one who knew the world and would
not be afraid to answer her questions
candidly.
“I’m going to build a big dance hall
and saloon here,” said Stark, showing her
the stakes that lie had driven. “As soon
as the rush to the creek is over I’ll hire
a gang of men to get out a lot of house
logs. I’ll finish it in a week and be
open for the stampede.”
"Do you think this will be a big town?”
she asked.
"Nobody can tell, but I’ll take a chance.
If it proves to be a false alarm I’ll
move on—l’ve done it before.”
"You’ve been in a great many camps,
aNL/ Good Whiskey costs you no more than “doc-
tored” brands. The reputation of this Old ReEa- BK ‘ W
jex 4k V Jywlfry ble Mail Order House was built on the fol-
t lowing well-known brands:
We Pay AU Express Charges.
In lB Bottles.
A&igSr PerGaL BGIL 4Qt». sqti. \ IS. 1 w yYfl
▼ AMULET CORN Z.. X«5 5.00 \ ill,! WfllUllllteL/
" COCKADE RYE 8.15 6.00 r,J
Eureka Rye 82.00 85.75 82.20 84.20 |l|
Dan River Rye 2.25 6.45 2.45 4.75 JL' ~
JujPaiSjf Grey Goose Rye 2.50 7.20 2.70 5.25
Satisfaction Rye 3.00 8.70 3.20 6.25 (■ H
Old Henry Rye 3.50 10.00 4.00 7.75 [MI1 11 Janeßnyfl|g
Greenwood Rye 4.00 11.40 4.50 8.75 IKI
Jefferson Club Rye 4.00 11.40 5.00 9.75
Highspire Rye 5.00 14.00 6.00 11.50 1
MBBCESBk N. C. Tuckahoe Corn 2.00 5.75 2.20 4.20 \VIPjWB
N. C. Swallow Corn 2.50 7.20 2.70 5.25 //// / I
Virginia Corn Whiskey 3.00 8.70 8.20 6.15 P'-O FASHionco cnpui'ft DisT'^ e ° ■
•r - Very Old N. C. Corn Whiskey. 3:50 10.00 coppi -R nisi g
WUWSgWRr Old Burro Corn Whiskey 4.00 7.75 lOf (YHKTMC <*TTPPL R
- Holland Gin 3.00 8.70 3.40 6.40 VVUOIIXO B
Apple Brandy 2.50 7.20 2.70 5.25 SOLE PROPRIETORS B
4 P..C- Brandy I<MM» 7.r. RICHMOND, VIRCIMaI
COUSINS SUPPLY CO. “ 1 s - "fe;- "21
The Old Reliable Mail Order House. Richmond, Va.
I suppose.”
He said that he had, that for twenty
years he had been on the frontier, and
knew It from west Texa». to the circle.
"And are they all alike?”
"Very much. The land lies different
but the people are the same.”
"I’ve never known anything except
this.” She swept the points of the com
pass with her arm. "And there is so
much beyond that I want to know about
—oh, I feel so ignorant! There is some
thing now that perhaps you could tell
me, you have traveled so much.”
“Let's have it,” said he, smiling at her
seriousness.
She hesitated, at a loss for words, fin
ally blurting out what was in her mind.
“My father is a squaw man, Mr. Stark,
and I’ve been raised to think that such
things are customary.”
“They are, in all new countries,” he
assured her.
“But how are they regarded when civi
lization comes along?”
Continued in Next Issue
READ THIS!
DOTHAN, Ala.—We have been selling
the Texas Wonder for years, and recom
mend it to any one suffering with any
kidney trouble as being the best remedy
we ever sold. J. B. YOUNG. Sold by all
druggists. Price $1 by mail from St.
Louis. ***
OMNIBUS CLAIMS BILL
WILL PASS SENATE
WASHINGTON, Jan. 29.—The Indica
tions are that the omnibus claims bill
which has been hung up from the last
session of congress will pass the senate
this afternoon or Monday.
The measure carries many thousand
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Impossible to see a copy of the amended
bill until after its passage.
The personnel of the claimants and the
amount of each were published some
months ago in The Journal when they
passed the house but many of these have
been scaled down in the senate and
some of them have been stricken alto
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O I Jim Mil ■ ■III ■, , r
- ■ —.- m!■ ■!!■ i nn a ■■■ rj J~jnM ■ jnwr ifT_. irrTh
BRAVE CAPTAINS WHO MASTERED DISASTER
On the left C»pt. W. I. Seulby, commander of the ill-fated Repub
lic, who stuck to his ship till she sank under him. On the right, Capt-
J. B. Ransom, of the steamer, Baltic, who brought the 1.G50 passengers