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Wheeling Sunday register. [volume] (Wheeling, W. Va.) 1882-1934, March 08, 1896, Image 13

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Persistent link: https://chroniclingamerica.loc.gov/lccn/sn86092523/1896-03-08/ed-1/seq-13/

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:i;a or Color Invented
a a Few Ex
port Lengths.
l: rr- 3ant—Sleavcs
xufSar Than
0 c-ao S', n* to New
louQii- Visconntoss
..e nri. liou^sayo was
c: Caiiornia. and
*.tor d” Society in
i i ia osu — Bodices fcr
L :U <ji- a Darn.i
it. 1 ‘ by Ry nan Interview
^ v o; tL i!k waist fashion
• • con vim .-d of
: i tf.t boasts the rarest
v ilk v ..dis. and
■ ? a apts itself to all
irable ia ariuin Uo a. bargain
\LIES SILK WAISTS*
‘•i .la':' and h> r m«v *>er.

other day that went with a traveling
suit of br V n Amazon eloth suited so
v 11 a young. shiui-'r. girlish figure.
! vas oi' own slik, shot with the
sai »lirst Irregular gold stripe.
The sib was put on the lining very
fuli -on lie neck and shoulder seams,
and j I - et the bust line was gathered
into dim little lace rutiles, standing
out about an inch and a half. At the
! o k the fullness was gathered on to
si\ small cords about an inch apart,
an-' gave the effect of a long yoke.
I h» sill older s* ams were very long
and to heighten this effect the full coat
d , Vf S were shirred in four rows three
<;u rters n an Inch a; art. At :he waist
line all the fullness of the bodice was
bn iiL'ht d . in little plaits, and worn
one. r the ;r A very narrow belt of
brown suf de sill- topaz clasps held it.
1 m> collar was draped and veto’ high,
wi i very full rosette effects on each
'* Am ther sombre traveling waist
" ■ s o d ' k blue ilk with a design of
11 ' •'■••• m worked in In subdued col
tsd chlf
' n v st wire two stripes of dark
l .• velvet three inches wide, orna
’i< n *.i w h ows mall blue steel
buttons. rh* se velvet strips extended
to ' ’<• both of 1: • hort full basques.
U the -'jont >he basques were cut
’■ : to sharp i ints, and when they
third! showed a lining of corn-colored
tail* a. rh“ sleeves were full coat
sieves, t>. at from the elbow’ down to
the wrists a 1 \ -y long. They were
triinuicd at the bnl seams with point
ed strips of velvet and rows of blue
steel buttons.
I • collar was a n il turn-down collar
• ■ *h< blu- velveh A crush girdle of
the velvet was rather broad with a
nohv ’ « ffec at the front, and cn the
do r.ni. .. 1 is fh a bow and cut
i ’ " kl . This waist way worn un
nor was of light yellow mousseline tie
sole, with orange velvet trimmings.
The mousseline tie sole was put on very
full ami fastened across one s'c'e to
give the effect of a draped surplice ,
front. In th“ hack the fulness was j
gathered down into the girdle.
There was a short, round Bolero |
jacket of orange velvet, embroidered
in aold and studded with amethysts
and topazes, that fell about eight inch
es from the shoulder, the collar was
a high turn-over collar of the embroid
ered velvet, opened a trifle at the front
to show a jabot of old cream lace. The
. i. * eo were very full ruffs to the el
bo wi.ii a tali of lace finishing them.
A stiff narrow girdle of the velvet,
•shgL'ly pointed in front, finished this
bodice.
MADE FOR AMERICANS.
Nearly all these new creations are for
Ann rican queens. They pay so extrav
agantly for them and are so lavish in
their praise of the dressmaker’s taste
that the Parisian modiste exerts herself
stupendously for them, and is sleepless
until she has combined color in a way
that can becalled “new.” Looking over
an order book of a French dressmaker
i like studying the 1 i.-,t of boxholders
of the Metropolitan Opera House, for
the same names are on both. "Yet I do
not think that we interfere with the
trade of American modistes,” reluct
antly admitted the French woman.
“Madame the Ameircan buys so very
mil' h. These she wears twice and gives
to her maid.”
’! ie Vieomtesse Henri Houssaye, the
popular wife of one of the forty “Im
mortals. " is very well known as one of
the best-dressed women in the smart
sc:. She was a Miss Ritter, a Califor
nia heiress, and though France has
In n her home for many years, thero is
still the most decided American air
t A
, i>; i i , ill V \\ ... ... »•.< IX !'!••>••: THREE PRETTY CREATION’S.
(Copyright, 18%, by U; nan Ini' nitw Syndicate.)
\ I *<>tt i'
Ai • - ( ioc iuai - r In cxtraor
- f io " - . roily, t
thu; tin i candle :irks into
• ) ; tin jested a boudoir,
la to match. I fanekd ho»v
I i i tuple the P iueess and her
t i at short, very
. d at home “bar
d '.its“ and that she
I ; thr v rds of an one
1 a , v 'tv ' t* n
« r i o much for sleev and
• sh at on in a whisper I
a that th noble famines of,
s,» very noble that they
’<1 po\ rr■. and prefer a;
~ i it : th. ir fallen estate
t ml rancs a year
n no<le! s shown
, ni; lx ttonlerarri sug
<lse but an exhausted
' • d 1 - And a French
s in er element when she
''tie i t! > ■ creations, 'or
'n'e ' o limit pit* on the
■ .’it ht construc
t»j ri he uses.
h ■" i s ny and applauds
\ . I t ( ' rihbon or lace
, , jy i,.,; i • *t*inj»r at c* •»
t co! • -1 she doesn't
n -i the qi •tiles of the
! f era us d In her dressier
' ■ • 'ri' WFLtNG.
" * doesn't ?o is
The n ■ he an air of
i > •'.'••vv »*>r the? rumor
’ x st r - lias all ended
aii v.lk waist I saw the
cleh with a godet ir of the same
man rial. With a k t or cape that is
eas •> ! i.'nml o ml on, a silk waist
is ti mo.; co fortabk thing one can
choc. 101 tn eing.
, )K I \ XING.
Th< voi > ' ev king in evening
bodies are of white s n, v i i cover
ings of i .i ranee !a<
Tin* «!. . :• «• samer :ture of this
: id . \ ith ii < ’ ich (!■' gns in white ap
; > w . e .. :i that a c r t many people
h ivo * .1 it who were obliged on
>ci >i nt or‘ i - unbecomingness to avoid
white sat!1' ''>>■ ire . the most attract
ive one t was 1 me was a de
c bo i e of whin* »atin with a
V A «i 'iii A M \ZON
i it Sl'l i i\l> ' ^ '*!•!- A SLEX
i :::i g-irlish figure/*__
full b’fuso covering of the renaissance
ill ' sleeves were full, short puffs
of the satin, with numberless narrow
rKffos . •' hi . k chiffon pm on ’ength
way s so that the satin was entire!}' cov
d. Vt the very low “V” nock there
was a finish of a narrow standing frill
of the chiffon and a fuU how of white
at s i the left side.
rii i ?•» was of erin/ied white sat
in. L• • *4 white gloves wore to be worn
v, i;h <»■- toilet. The bodice was an
oru r i. .urs. Lorilhird Spencer. Aj
t ; ' v. li ist for Mi; informal family din
> r. One of her evening bodices
i- . ; l ,.!e trreen taffeta silk, with a de
Mr n of rose garlands, in pink.
i miide in Loins XV. style, with a
si v point ai a- bottom of tin waist.
The neck i.- low ami square, and the
-! i i, is very loner, ending in a little
(.1; of1, • : that intensifies this effect of
!o run. TU? sic.m s ure draped, cnd
b at the elbow with a fall of lace.
V the front of the bodice is a pointed
vest of moss green velvet, with loops
of the velvet standing out four inches
on either side. Just at the base of the
loons are rhinestone crescents.
A! ;i recerijon the other day I count
ed forty-three silk waists, and there
were not two waists alike in design or
material in the gathering. 1 have no
ticed that a great many of the velvet
v inter hats are being lightened up with
bunches and a crush band of white
tulb*. On a black velvet hat the etfect
is very chic NINA GOODWIN.
-o-■
FLOYD’S THEORY.
The electric current had died out,
an<l iv.o young men. the only passen
gers. were pitting an extended view
from the trolly car windows of vacant
h s and numerous signboards. Their
conversation was easily distinguished
now that the rumble of the car had
ceased.
‘ It's a favorite theory of mine, I tell
you." said he of the light hat, "and I’ve
never known it to fail; if you wish to
retain your influence over a woman
don’t marry her."
"Most people think otherwise," repli
ed the one in brown, petulantly.
•1H> they? How many of your ac
quaintance really influence their wives
—I mean outside of the power of money
and the fact that the woman is depend
ent on the mc4 for bread?”
"I always thought Lewis did.”
‘‘Yes, hut he's naturally a student and
knows more in n minute than she can
» vt r !• arn. Decides, she’s domestic and
worships him as if he were a demi-god.
Miss Lyons is not that kind; she’s bril
liant. vivacious, magnifique, as that
French artist puts it.”
The man in brown looked uneasily
out at the vacant lots, made a pretense
of r.. ding one of the signs and appar
ently wished the car would proceed.
“Look at Arsen,” continued the other.
"That woman was his slave before he
married her. Don't you remember how
she deserted young Huyler in the mid
dle of a w»sltz at orders? Xou look:
she airrs with Huyler before Arson’s
v ry ’’ace and calls hr r husband ‘poky.*
Would you like that?”
The younger man blushed.
“If l thought-” he began.
‘‘Yes, if you thought you wou/d have •
1
that experience you’d sooner touch one
of those live wires up there than marry
her. You never could bear it to marry
a woman who did not remain alter mar
riage as she was before—your wor
shiper.”
“But most men don’t care for that
sort of thing, and are willing to be
bound in silken chains, as the flash nov
elists puts it.”
“Well, that's what it comes to, and
unless you take my advice you’ll see—”
“Whizz, bur-r-. The current was on
and the car went rocking and whirring
down the rails, the noise of the wheels
drowning out the conversation.
****** *
Of the two passengers she was tall,
graceful, blond; she wore a brown suit
and hat to match. The motorman re
membered having seen him before
somewhere. The car waited for a
freight train to move from across the
trolly line track.
“It is easy to say ‘obey,’ but no wo
man will do it who respects herself,”
she was remarking.
‘‘They tell it that she refused at first,
but he insisted on it.
‘ Before the church full of people,
too. That’s an example of man’s con
servatism. It’s a wonder we have ad
vanced from the Blue laws.”
“If we hadn’t there would be no ball
to-morrow night.”
“But you are not going?”
“I told you. no. I leave for a month’s
trip west to-morrow. I wish you would
not go. either.”
“But Mr. Htiyler will be there,” arch
ly.
“The more reason why you should
not be.”
“And Floyd Carson.”
“He does not count with the women.”
“Why, may I ask?” .
‘‘One of the kind that insist on
“He has a theory that women should
be obedient to the lords of creation.”
‘obey ?’ ”
“I judge so. No woman, he says,
can ever fascinate or control him.”
“You’d better not repeat that among
women. It will pique their curiosity
and invite them to test their powers.”
“I am sorry I told you then.”
“So you are really going west to
morrow?" with a shrug of uneasiness.
Would that train never pass?
“Yes,” with a look of longing, “and
we must say good-by here, for l’v»
work to do this evening. I’ve not seen
you as often lately as I used to, but-”
Jerk, jerk rattle! The train had
gone, the wheels die! ed over the rail
way and the motorman had his hands
full warning the many teams from his
course. The woman left the car at the
second crossing. The man watched her
until the last ribbon of her cloak had
fluttered around the corner. Then he
sighed and opened an evening paper.
****** *
A broken rail. The passenger in
brown kept his seat. Another man in
light clothing er'ered; the motorman
was sure he had seen the same pair
in his car before. As he watched the
workman repair the track he could not
help overhearing the talk.
“Hello, old fellow! Back, are you?"
“Yes. Floyd: just in this morning.
1 Tad a tiresome trip. How are all the
boys?”
"Flourishing or broke: mostly broke.
Hurley’s gone to Washington, i sup
pose you know?”
“1 heard it to-day?”
“And the French artist—he said he
had a great offer from some Paris pa
per to illustrate for them, and he's
gone. Privately lie's giving lessons to
a class over in New Jersey or Maryland
or somewhere."
“But the girls?"
“You surely are so much interested
in them. Before you went away you
got to be very cynical.”
“I thought over your theory a great
deal and come to believe that there was
something in it.”
"My theory? What was that?”
"Why.” surprised, "that to control a
woman vou should not marry her.”
"Oh. yes. Well?”
"There may be something in it. At
r.ny rate. 1 let that flirtation with Miss
Lyons drop a little and no one else
seemed to interest me.
"She's a nice girl."
“Yes. and i was afraid she would fee!
grieved at my dropping her so."
“I think not. I’ve seen a good deal
of her one way and another, and I have
not noticed it. To he candid, that
theory of mine wouldn’t suit every
body.”
“Do you think U suited me?”
“Well you said you would not allow
any woman to control you.”
“I believe, Floyd, you contemplate
something serious.”
“Maybe I do—in fact. I have about
concluded that I'd as soon he controlled
as have the responsibility on my own
shoulders.”
“And the happy woman is-”
siz-z-z- whir-r-r! The car was mov
ing again. How the brakes rattled!
It was a rainy night. Not a passenger
had been on since seven o’clock. The
niotorman could see no sign of the head
light o: the car he was to meet at the
next switch. He halted the car ana
went inside to get a three minutes'
glance at the evening paper before he
should have to push on out through
the addition. Murders on the first
page, politics on the second, sporting
news on the third, local happenings on
the fourth. He turned to the fourth.
The most prominent item was a wed
ding. His eye caught the names—“Mr.
Floyd Carson—Miss Louis Lyons."
He dimly thought he had heard the
names somewhere, but could not Just
place them. He. then turned to the
story of a riot in an all-night saloon
on Cd street.—Chicago News.
THE SACRIFICE OF SAM.
I The blacksmith's “jiffy” lasted until
■ almost six o'clock, and while he was 1
engaged on Bill's hoof the loafers wan
dered out, one at a iixne, auu u»eay
peared up the hillside, presumably in
the direction of a house, and this re
minded Sam that it was supper time,
and that he was hungry.
“ 'Bout suppeh time, strangeh,” said
the blacksmith, suddenly, as though
divining his client’s thought. “Hadn't
ye bettah come up an’ graze with we
all, an’ let the job go f’r a bit?"
“Cain’t do it, pardner," Sam replied,
somewhat hastily, thereby confirming
the other in a certain suspicion he held
about Sam (that is that he was a mar
shal’s or sheriff's deputy)—“cause, ye •
see, I got t' be a movin' right peart, an’ 1
gittin’ t’ Rio. ’Bliged to ye, all th’
same. I’ll just go ovah t’ th' store an' j
get a smack w'ile ye finish th' job."
There was a little .faded, sharp fea
tured woiman behind the counter in the ;
little store, and her keen black eyes :
studied Sam criticallyras she proceeded
to serve him with the cheese and
crackers he called for. Presently
tall, big, square-shouldered fellow
came in and stood by the door, and th
woman went and joined him. The>
conversed in low whispers for about a j
minute, and Sam, dimly suspicious, j
glanced at them two or three times. ,
The last time he saw that they we
looking at him. Then the wearer
with a half laugh, shrugged her th .
shoulders and said, aloud, as the *j
man turned to go out:
"Quien sabe? Quien sabe?"
The moment the big man was gor.<
however, she hastened to the back o.
the store, looked into the bs’-rocm. ap-1
parently to make certain that it was I
unoccupied, then came up to Stives,
who was hastily gobbling his lunch,
and asked, in a whisper:
“Strangeh, be you a dep’ty?"
“Me? No. o’ co'se not. \Vhut
“Co’se,” said the woman, with
patient gesture, "I might 'a' km >■. <
wouldn’t say so. if ye was. Look . i
i she went on has.ily, coming c!
laying a hand on his arm, "y i t : ;>
ger, mister. Le' me tell yc, v.
got th’ chanst. th't ye wantuh
o’ this real quick—an’ don’t tak
Rio trail fur. Leave it a mile on.
cut ’cross to’ds lAmity Fo'ks—htu
me?”
"Yes’m. I sho’ do: ibut whut—
"Pont stem V as( no fool questiins.
That big fellah’s Ned Flynn an' yere's
w'ere ’e hangs out a lot. They'll git ji\
ef ye don't look out. I'm tollin' ye
‘this, ’cause—’cause-*wee nev.ah min’.
Only git a wove on.”
Sam lost no time in seeing that Hill
was properly “fixed,” and, getting
started, he took tiie strange little wo
man's advice and turned toward Amity
Forks, thereby preserving, no doubt, a
whole skin, lie asked himself many
times why the woman should have ta- j
ken the trouble to warn him, but was
unable to find a..; reason for it.
As-a matter of fact, the woman her
self could have given no reason beyond
that essentially feminine “because."
The face of Ned Flynn haunted Sam.
Why. it ir. impossible to say. for Sam
Stires, like the rest of his family, was
not at -all imaginative. There was
nothing at all remarkable about the
the face of Flynn, the outlaw, excepting
the- tact that it belied the character ot
its owner, being a spuare honest face,
with two clear, honest blue eyes while !
Flynn well, everybody within 100
miles of the line knew what be was.
Nevertheless that face bothered Sam,
all tiie way home, and for two or three
days afterward, and he could think rf
no reason for its constant appearance
before his mental vision until, one after
noon shortly after his arrival home, he
started out for the liuston place to see
Mat. Then, as he forded a creek near
( the Huston ranch, he venom be red the
man he J.ad met there one time when he
had oeen told after his arrival at the
house, was Harry Armstrong, his
mueh-hoanl-of hut never-before-seen j
rival for Mat’s affections. And he re
membered now :hat the stranger’s face
as the face of Ned Flynn, outlaw and
“rustler.”
After making this startling discov- J
cry he rode more slowly in order to re- j
cover his mental equilibrium. Ho was
in doubt how to act in the matter, for
he was by no means absolutely certain
that ho was correct and he knew that
to telj Mat of his discovery and thru
find that he was mistaken would jro- 1
nard, if not ruin, his own chances with j
her. Wherefore, ho resolved to pro- t
ceed with caution, and to assure him- .
self that he was right before going j
aneau.
“Say, Dart," ho asked, in a confiden
tial tone of Matt’s brother, who rode a
mile or two with him on his homeward
way late that night, “who's this yere
Armstrong, a ny ways?"
Bart Huston laughed.
"Gittin’ scairt of ’ira, Sam? Didn’t
s'pose he was worry in’ ye at all, 1 sho’
didn't." v
Oh. I don't car’ p’tic’lar.” said Sam,
hastily, with a gesture of denrecation.
“On'y I’m jes’ sort o’ cur'us ’bout ’im,
that’s all."
“Wa-al, fact is. I don’t know much
'bout the duck." confessed Bart. “iSeon
im onct, didn’t ye? Wa-al, all I know i
’bout im is, th’t he’s got a ranch oveh J
on th’ Pecos, an’ 'notheh one oveh b’ th’
Two-Mile—ol* Watrous place, ye.
know. Says Vs poin' t’ sell aout th'
Pecos place, an’ move oveh t ’this coun
try af»eh th' fall raound up. Sepms t’ ,
he a purty pood soht o’ fellah, an’ ac's ;
ike ’e's pot dough. E’s some eddi- i
cated. too.”
“H-hm,” grunted Sam, as though it
CERTAINLY NOT.
. ^
t (
Flla—Do you think the bicycle will ever- take the place of the horse? .
Della—Certainly, not. They can’t make sausage* meat out of bicycles.
was immaterial, all thi3 information
about bis rival. Apd he sail nothing
more to Bart on the subject, but cer
tainly 'itep' a-thinkin' a lot,” as
he would have expressed it. He must^
make sure that this surmise was cor
rect, and then—well, Mr. Armstrong,
or Flynn, or whatever his name was,
would not only be decidedly out of the
running, but was in a fair way to con
clude one of his visits to the Huston
place at the end of a reata.
But before Sam had time to think out
the best plan for assuring himself of
"Annsrong's" identity with Ned Flynn,
he learned that that geneleman was
expected in a few days on a visit to
.Mat, and this information volunteer- i
ed by Eart, whom he met on the range,
decided Sam—who hod been at the
point of deciding for two years—on a
course of action, and the very next day
he rode over to see Mat.
As he rode up to the house he noticed
tl i: looked singularly quiet, and (so
was he by this time) he almost
d he “folks” were all away, and
r-nld again postpone asking
■ -tion he had so long been
tearing, to ask. But Mat
h>: • m. him at he door.
bn Sam!” she ejaculated,
-’.id ’ see ye! Didn’t know
’twas some one a-com
• I • t'!*‘ off!”
liuhi good notion t’ do it,”
what he considered re
■ ■ in -and then he failed
td’. v 'i opening, but asked:
< VI it ?”
Maw'n paw’s gone
cv’ry ban's aout on
• ol’ Manuela’s done
( t i ,h t’sth’ creek t' a
But go an’ put Bill
ui • in. We'll hev supper rieb
so ill
■ ,
Wit < es a id mo -th
wate'iing .'la1 : he flitted gra
ah. [» th' room .ueparing up;i.:
to,-'.- iii i \»iv detail of the tall
jwre the yrettv face and the
u:
wnm i*n
•( - . s jpat us two al'ay
t! i : Se.m "’t ' ■■ •' .
b - . ■ •
si ■!>•.;. • <•; • • • ho-wi ;\ !i • -
n* : in t he pij!!*1.y,‘ -sad Mat .v bin
a. • ' to ap' uk.
t* bi r-M'i’.n’ yen V’' liii iiirl t-ai-i. i'v- -
ing at i 1 t'ranV’v.
g*>! . . 1 «5*»:« •liO'ii . My. !m
thro;', i ■: i 1 i,. a.
“Why n< *r : M4t?”
finally in ‘Mat. Hr.',
s’pese me an 1 *: i* ¥■• Hi
ah f'reveah? n't- don't 'fcp .r.c."
he .vent on. as ti f g rl :< >•
and would have spoke, "i ■*
t’ say it f’r t. j yeahs.
marry me'.’"
The girl had one arm across ken e> < .
and was sobbing.
“Oh. I wish't ye hadn’t Sam! T wish't
ye hadn’t ’a’ spoke! I hain't treated ye
right. Sam. I hain’t. I—
“Wh—why-”
“1 s’pose I got t’ tell you. Sam," she
said, more steadily, but with eyes avert
ed. “Ef I got t’ tell ye—oh. Sam. 1 waa
married t' Harry Armstrong last win
tah. >v’fn I was ovah on th’ Pecos!"
Sam sank limply back in his chair.
“Ye don’t mean it; ye sho’ don't mean
it. Mat!” he gasped.
But the sir! nodded her head affirma
tively, and bit a corner of the handker
chief she hr Id to her eye3.
“I cain’t believe it. Mat—I sho’ caint!"
said poor Sam plaintively. ”Le' me
think.”
So engrossed were they that they had*
not heard the sounds of galloping hoofs,
and both started when some one reined
up suddenly, almost in front of them,
and cried hoarsely!
"flood Gcd, Mat! Where can F hide?”
"Ned FI?nn!” ejaculated Sam, start
ing to his feet dazedly.
“Harry!" shrieked the girl, as the
man, pale, bareheaded and dishevelled,
threw himself from his dropping horse
and staggered toward them. One side
of his face and neck was covered with
blood.
“What is it, Harry? What Is it?"
“Nothing.” said the man, grimly—
“only they’ve sent out three posses after
me, and I’m caught. There’s a lot of
’em just behind. If I could get over the
Two Mile-”
ham started forward.
“Haow fur b'hind arc they?" he ask
ed. in a queer voire.
“Right on my hi Is.” replied the oth
er man, with the calmness of despair.
He sat with his head buried in his
wife's lap and did not look up, seeming
not to care at all what happened next.
Then Sam did something that sur
prised himself.
“Git inside, you two!” he said, rough
ly, and tossed his hat to Flynn.
Then he ran and leaped into the sad
dle the other man had just left, jammed
his spurs into the weary horse’s flanks,
and. with a wave of his hand, was off
toward the hills—and not a quarter of
a mile behind him. when he struck the
road, were half a dozen horsemen.
They were just turning into the road
fading to the ranch when they caught
sight of him crossing the road ahead,
and, with loud yells, they raced after
him.
Sam knew that the horse he rode
could not last long, but he still had
time to think of what he had clone, and
what would be done to him. He knew
what generally happened to persons
who aided the escape of men like Flynn
but he reflected, grimly, that he had his
revolver on, and they should never hang
him. at least.
But—why had he done it? He did
not feel sorry, really, but he could not
comprehend his own action.
“Ping!" they were shooting at him
now and the bullets were flying uncom
fortably close. If he could only reach
the timber! He glanced hack, and it
gave him a pang to see how rapidly
they were gaining upon him.
His horse stumbled, fell and thre v
him; but he was back in the saddle in
a moment and urging the poor creature
on. Again he looked back. One of the
pursuers suddenly halted his horse, dis
mounted and. with his knee for a rest,
began pumping lead after the fugitive.
One—two—three shots missed him. He
hoped he was drawing out of range.
Then—
“What’s th’ mattr wP that?” asked
the man who had dismounted, as he
came up and joined the rest.
It was Sam’s cousin. Will Stires.
“Through th’ back, hey?”
And he turned the body over.
“Slick an’—good Gawd! It'a Sam!
You fellahs don't s’pose he’d be mixed
in with-”
“Not by a-sight!” said one of the
°vlie j8‘ i T. 8 somethin’ funny 'bout
this deal—Bam wa nt in }»• * out
And up at the Huston place other
members of the posse had closed in up
on the house dragged Ned Kivnn out
law, from the arms of hi- »k!2',■
wife, and. without any use!
were just at this moment giving h- n
the punishment he ha.] s„ if»rK X,d sS
nautT de3erVed PranS frfe”
SCHOOLMA’AM S NARROW ESG\pn
They were sitting before the big'fire
place in Uncle John Watson s kitchen
an interesting and in.crested groan
There were several neighbors who had
just strayed in-men who had faced the
privations of early pioneer life in the
mountains, and men who had rushed to
tho meeca of fortune or failure in the
Pensylvania oil regions, fncle John’s
commonplace but kindly dispos d wife
sat smoking hi pipe in a cosy corner
There were, besides Georgians. Undo
John s niece, a gin with a medallion
face and snapping black . yes the little
ichoolma’ am. who was boarding
round and who secretly rejoiced to find
her lines fallen In such a p isant place
They were Ha ■ ■ to l tele John'*
stories of the eai; da ys \. jv wt
fore the Are. hia
gular form
against the glowing logs. He was t
true type of that class so rapidly dis
appearing—:r
less pioneer, whose vi ; ... i,.".a
told in song and b . ni. •1 _
■ory is as refreshing a- { draught of
spring water on i .•.
fc* of early liar I »onverattiott
naturally drifted into , , ,,j 0)
breadth escapes, the uning point be
ing a bear story in which 1’ncle John
figured as a h ro.
I was walkin d.iwn tlio road on*?
evenin’ when I met a bar strollin’ along
i if U, too enj’yed an evenin’ walk,” his
- ry began. “I had played with the
l'-'."in bo> s long enough to I’arn som*
. tin o b ar natur . so I Jo.- tuck off ni^
held Haft)
•i: I v-.is worth. The b’ar tu ned and
u !k*-d back Into *ho woods’s dignified
'n I < t foi hoi ; might
*•* v " id -i squat, meal for thet b'ar,
bu ■ I u.l h<d vis< trd . n
II. . i!.; ngs v he had been
left uiidt r a ber uewhi disturb
ed t n .illy, hot •.ise unhur l.y
exit f’e n
- d three bun
'v n told of his
“!. One more
on dashed against the
dr II ’• rn\v ! me. He
i mad
■use an '
ay. Jake |
tho hull w
dred feet i
wind-up i
turn ’n I’d hev I
c-nss p'ece. Til
aMus was the coolest feller l ever saw—
was Hill Kanry."
i cun i s i oge you v’ liven ions
enough to he\ any close calls," sai<l
1’ncl John, wh-?n the little schoolma’
am’e tart cami ' Oh. y< s. I h&v ." il 1
she. “It happt noil wh n 1 was teaching
over at Spring - k tin! boarding at
Souire Duncan’s. I b.ul a good three
miles to walk ev ry morning and even
ing, and tvas always glad of a lift. One
morning, a goo! looking fellow, with
a spanking black te<r» and light spring
wngpn. came along 11 • • stopped and
asked me if i coral to ri i . Of course f
preferred to r‘,j under such favorable
circumstances. It was a June morn
ing. and the air full of sweet scents and
sweeter music, and we were soon talk
I ing as tigre ably ns If we had been old
! acquaintances. Of -amirhe knew pco
' pie that I knew and that broke the lee.
We felt well t!C(| lintel lr. the tint*- wd
came to the I) V.pV i illroad croubtf.
On the track ay , big milk snake ayn
ning Itself, d p
ed thf/wagon in such a mamier as io
catch the hin.l wheel between the two
rails The young man turned white as
ashes.
“ ’Get down and run for your life.’ he
said, ‘the morning express is due. and
this is a load of nitrn glycerine. T
must tmload these cans. You may be
able to get away before anything hap
pens. Run! run!’ he alnto- shrieked.
“But I had no Intention of running
away. 1 helped him to carry the cans,
two at a time, to a safe distance from
the track. It was terrible work, a fal «
step, or th« jarring of one cm against
the other and all would lie over with us.
I gritted my teeth and worked like a
machine. Kvry step wa : tak* n in tbs
agony of fear. After the first moment
he was as eool as a cucumber and han
dled the cans with wonderful dexterity.
You see he was usrd to it anil 1 wasn t,
and I was dreadfully afrai l of dropping
a can from sheer fright. In a short
time we had tinm out but me. and tint
was under i ti• ' 1 rumble, at I
an engine rounding a curve blanched
our faces, and made our h> arts stand
still.”
“Yon got that cin white i win iry
to flag the train.' he crit ! hoa
"I climbed into the wagon, i' «eem
ed an ag1 before F could r> << h the can.
and an eternity before F lnn*!‘ >F with it
and had placed it with the others in ’’ ’
field. And then-”
“You fainted, of eourse’’ .tn> 1 F ne!e
John, with a twinkle of his e>e
“No. I didn’t." saiil th- little school*
ma’m. “I turned and saw 'hat the • n
gine had stopped within two f* o of i!
wagon, and the jx >ple " crowding
out of the train to what v. i- 'h*
matter. They looked stared enough
when they found out how narrow an <
cape they had had. 1 a1' train soon
rumbled on agar and ' r* Ip 1 him t.
load the cans, he said a good many
complimentary thing bii! **> lain t
ask me to ri<1 ■ on to i , .
ferred walking."
| “Ife ort to hev fell In love with yt
In g-nulne story liook -til . ’" I 1 111 ‘6
John. “There ot ght to be quite a ro
mantic. end to tha episode, lb shou l
be a rich young followed who axed ><■ to
marry him and took )-• off to Europe on*
a wedding’ tour.’ .
“He was rich enough.’ aid th M '■
sehoolma’am. blushing pn Uly;
one can't have more C. i ot. romar :
at a time, Uncle John. H father own
ed the fat t >rj
out of it. The young man did call
eral times, but -T
like his calling -
he has the best r
objecting." . , __•
And the little school ms am giant 1
shyly down at. thf turquoise ring on h* r
plump 'f. ’
Herald. _________
J
OIL LEASES!
TWO FORMS.
I.ithrr kluJ.
3c Each
OR 25t PER DOZEN. AT
Register Office
rmirr'f Ud-TSlN C
OYflt P!LLas
atssr
tut.<« 1»V«
iV
iWiHt-1

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