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East Mississippi times. (Starkville, Miss.) 19??-1926, July 21, 1922, Image 7

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Persistent link: https://chroniclingamerica.loc.gov/lccn/sn87065609/1922-07-21/ed-1/seq-7/

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THE CROSS-CUT
"HURRY!”
, SYNOPSIS.—At Thornton Fair
child's death tits son Robert learns
there has been a dark period in
his father's life which for almost
thirty years has caused him suffer
ing. The secret Is hinted at in a
document left by the elder Fair
child, which also informs Robert
lu; is now owner of a mining claim
hr Colorado, and advising him to
see Henry Ileamish. a lawyer.
Beamish tells Robert his claim, a
silver mine, is at Ohadi. thirty
eight miles from Denver. He also
warns him against a certain man.
"Squint” Rodaine. his father’s en
emy. Robert decides to go to Ohadi.
CHAPTER 111
—2—
Three weeks inter, Robert Fairchild
sat in the smoking compartment of
the Overland Limited, looking at the
Rocky mountains in the distance. In
Ids pocket were a few hundred dol
lars; in the hank in Indianapolis a
few thousand, representing the final
proceeds of the sale of everything that
had connected him with a rather
dreary past. Out before him —
Three weeks had created a meta
morphosis in what had been a plod
ding, matter-of-fact man witli dreams
which did not extend beyond his led
gers and liis gloomy home —but now a
man leaning his head against the win
dow of a rushing train, staring ahead
toward the Rockies and the rainbow
they held for him. Back to the place
where his father had gone with
dreams aglow was the son traveling
now—hack into the rumpled moun
tains where the blue haze hung low
and protecting as though over myste
ries and treasures which awaited one
man and one alone. It thrilled Fair
child, It caused his heart to tug and
pull—nor could lie tell exactly why.
The hills came closer. Still closer;
then, when It seemed that the train
must plunge straight into them, they
drew away again, as though through
some optical Illusion, and brooded in
the Background, as the long, trans
•contlnental train began to bang over
tiie frogs and switches ns tt made Its
entrance Into Denver. Fairchild went
through the long chute and to a ticket
window.
“When can I get a train for Ohadl?"
The ticket seller smiled. “You can’t
get one."
“But the map shows that a railroad
runs there —"
“Ran there, you mean," chaffed the
clerk. “The best you can do Is to
get to Forks <*reek and walk the rest
of the way. That's a narrow-gauge
line, and Clear creek’s been on a ram
page. It took out about two hundred
feet of trestle, and there won’t he a
train into Ohadi for a week. Stranger
out here?"
“Very much of one.”
“In n hurry to get to Ohadi?”
“Yes."
"Then you can go uptown and hire
a taxi—they’ve got big ears for moun
tain work and there are good roads
all the way. It'll cost fifteen or
twenty dollars. Or—”
Fairchild smiled, “(five me the other
system it you’ve got one. I’m not ter
ribly long on cash—for taxis."
"Certainly. No use spending that
money if you’ve got a little pep. and
It isn't a matter of life or death. Go
up to tlie Central loop—anybody ran
direct you—and catch a street car for
Holden. That eats up fifteen miles
and leaves just twenty-three miles
more. Then ask somebody to point
out the road over Mount Lookout.
Machines go along there every few
minutes—no trouble at all to catch a
ride. You’ll be In Ohadi In no time.’’
Fairchild obeyed the instructions,
and in the baggage room rechecked his
trunk to follow him, lightening his
traveling hag at the same time until
it carried only necessities. A lunch
eon, then tlie street car. Three quar
ters of an hour inter, he began tlie
five-mile trudge up tlie broad, smooth,
•carefully paiomed automobile high
way which masters Mount Lookout. A
rumbling sound behind him, then lie
stepped to one side, a grimy truck
driver leaned out to shout ns he
passed:
“Want a lift? Hop on! Can’t
stop—too much grade.”
A running leap, and Fairchild seat
ed himself on the tailboard of. the
truck, swinging his legs nnd looking
out over the fading plains as the
truck roared and clattered upward
along tlie twisting mountain road.
Upward, still upward! The town
below became merely a checkerboard
thing, the lake a dot of gleaming sli
ver, the stream a scintillating ribbon
stretching off into the foothills. A
turn, and they skirted a tremendous
valley, its slopes falling away in sheer
■descents from the roadway. A dark
ened, moist stretch of road, fringed by
pines, then a jogging journey over roll
ing table-land. At last came a voice
from the driver’s seat.
"Turn off up here at Genesee moun
tain. Which wav do you go?"
"Trying to get to Ohadi.” Fairchild
shouted it above tlie roar of tlie en
gine. nie driver waved a hand for
ward.
“Keep ta the main road. Drop off
when I make the turn."
“Thanks for the lift.”
“Aw, farget It.”
The truck wheeled from the mtWn
road and chugged away, leaving Fair
child afoot, making as much progress
as possible toward his goal until good
fortune shnpld bring a swifter means
of locomotion. Suddenly he wheeled.
Behind him sounded the swift droning
of t motor, cut-out open, as If rushed
By Courtney Ryley Cooper
, Copyright by Little, Brown A Cos.
forward along the roiul—ami the noise
told a story of speed.
Far at the brow of a steep hill it
appeared, seeming to hung In spare
for an Instant before leaping down
ward. Rushing, plunging, once skid
ding dangerously at a small curve, It
made the descent, bumped over a
bridge, was lost for a second in the
pines, then sped toward him, a big
louring car. with a small, resolute
figure clinging to the wheel. Then,
with a report like a revolver shot, the
machine suddenly slewed in drunken
fashion far to one side of the road,
hung dangerously over the steep cliff
an instant, righted itself, swayed for
ward and stopped, barely twenty-five
yards away. Staring, Robert Fair
child saw that a small, trim figure had
leaped forth and was waving excited
ly to him, and he ran forward.
His first glance laid proclaimed it a
boy; tlie second had told a different
story. A girl—dressed In far different
fashion from Robert Fairchild's lim
ited specifications of feminine garb—
she caused him to gasp in surprise,
then to stop and stare. Again she
waved a hand and stamped a foot ex
citedly ; a vehement little thing in a
snug whipcord riding habit and a
checkered cap pulled tight over close
ly braided hair, she awaited him with
all (lie impatience of Impetuous wom
anhood.
“For goodness’ sake, come bore!" i
she called, as lie still stood gaping. 1
“I'll give you five dollars. Hurry 1"
Fairchild managed to voice the fact
that he would he willing to help with
out remuneration, as he hurried for
ward. She dived for the tonneau.
Jerking with all her strength at the
heavy seat cushion, as he stepped to
the running board heslde her.
“Can't get this dinged thing up!"
she panted. “Always sticks when
you're in a hurry. That’s it! Jerk It.
Thanks! Here!’’ She reached for
ward and a small, sun-tanned hand
grasped a greasy Jack, “Slide under
the back axle and put this jack in
place, will you? And rush it! I’ve
got to change a tire In nothing flat!
Hurry!”
Fairchild, almost before he knew It,
found himself under the rear of the
car, fussing with a refractory lifting
Jack and trying to keep his eyes from
the view of trimly clad, brown-shod
little feet, as they pattered about at
the side .of the car, hurried to the run
ning board, then stopped as wrenches
and a hammer clattered to the
ground. Then one shoe was raised,
to press tight against a wheel; metal
touched metal, a feminine gasp sound
ed as strength was exerted In vain,
then eddying dust as the foot stamped,
accompanied by an exasperated ejacu
lation,
“Ding these old lugs! They’re rust
ed! Got that Jack in place yet?"
“Yes! I'm raising the car now."
“Oh, please hurry.” There was
pleading in the tone now. “Flense!"
The ear creaked upward. Out came
Fairchild, brushing the dust from his
clothes. Hut already the girl was
pressing the lug wrench into his
hands.
“Don’t mind that dirt," came her
exclamation, “I’ll—l'll give you some
extra money to get your suit cleaned.
Loosen those lugs, while I get the
Spare tire off the hack. And for good
ness' sake, please hurry 1”
Astonishment had taken away
speech for Fairchild. He could only
wonder —and obey, while behind him
Staring Wonderingly at a Ten-Dollar
Bill.
a girl In whipcord riding habit and
close-pulled cap fidgeted first on one
tan-clad foot, then on the other, anx
iously watching the road behind her
and culling constantly for speed.
At Inst the Job was finished, the girl
fastening the useless shoe behind the
machine while Fairchild tightened the
last of the lugs. Then as lie straight
ened, a small figure shot to ids side,
took the wrench from Ids hand and
sent It, with the other tools, clatter
ing Into the tonneau. A tiny hand
went into a pocket, something that
crinkled was shoved Into the man’s
grasp, and while he stood there gasp-*
Ing. she leaped to the driver’s sent,
slammed the door, spun the starter
until It wblned, and with open cut
out roaring again, was off and away,
EAST MISSISSIPPI TIMES STARKSVILE. MISSISSIPPI
rocking down the mountain side,
around a curve and out of sight—
wtdle Fairchild merely stood there,
staring wondertngly at a ten-dollar
hill!
A noise from the rear, growing
louder, and the amazed man turned
to see a second machine, tilled with
men. careening toward him. Fifty
feet away the brakes creaked, and the
big automobile came to a skidding,
dust-throwing stop. A sun-browned
man in a Stetson hat. metal badge
gleaming from beneath his coat,
leaned fort it.
“Which way did he go?”
"He?" Robert Fairchild stared.
"Yeh. I ildn't a man Just pass here
in an automobile? Where'd lie go—
straight on the main road or off on
tlie circuit trail?"
“It—it wasn't u man. It —It was a
hoy. just about fifteen years old."
“Sure?"
“(Hi, yes—" Fairchild was swim
ming in deep water now. "1 got a
good look at him. He —he took that
road oil’ to tlie left."
It was tlie opposite one to which
tlie hurrying fugitive in whipcord had
taken. There was doubt in tlie inter
rogator's eyes.
“Sure of that?” lie queried. ‘Tin
the sheriff of Arapahoe county. That’s
an auto bandit ahead of us. We —*’
“Well, I wouldn’t swear to it. There
was another machine ahead, and I
lost ’em both fur a second down there
by the turn.”
"Probably him. all right.” The voice
came from the tonneau. “Maybe he
figured to give us the slip and get
back to Denver.”
“Let’s go!” The sheriff was press
ing a foot *n the accelerator. Down
the hill went the cur. to skid, thln to
make a short turn on to the road
which led away from the scent, leav
ing behind a man standing In the
middle of the road, staring at a ten
dollar bill —and wondering why he
had lied I
CHAPTER IV
Wonderment which got nowhere.
The sheriffs ear returned before Fair
child reached the bottom of the grade,
and again stopped to survey the scene
of defeat.
“Dangerous character?” Fairchild
hardly knew why he asked the ques
tlon. The sheriff smiled grimly.
“If it was the fellow we were after,
he was plenty dangerous. We were
trailing him on word from Denver—
described the car and said he’d pulled
a daylight hold-up on a pay-wagon
for tho Smell nipany—so when
the ear went through (’.olden, we took
up the trail a couple of blocks behind.
He kept the same speed for a little
while until one of my deputies got a
little anxious and took a shot at a
tire. Man, how he turned on the juice!
I thought that thing was a jack rabbit,
the way it went up the hill I I guess
it's us back to the office."
The automobile went its way then,
and Fairchild his, still wondering
And so thoroughly did the incident en
gross him that it was not until a truck
had come to a full slop behind him,
and a driver mingled a shout with the
tooting of his horn, that he turned to
allow its passage.
"Didn’t hear you, old man." he apol
ogised. “Could you give a fellow a
lift?"
"Guess so." It was friendly, even
though a hit disgruntled; "hop on."
And Fairchild hopped, once more to
sit'on the tailboard, swinging his legs,
hut this time Ids eyes saw the ever
changing scenery without noticing It.
In spite of himself, Fairchild found
himself constantly staring at a vision
of a pretty girl in a riding habit, with
dark-brown hair straying about
equally dark-brown eyes, almost fren
zied in her efforts to change a tire in
time to elude a pursuing sheriff. Some
way. It all didn’t blend. If she hadn’t
committed some sort of depredation
against the law, why on earth was she
willing to part with ten dollars, mere
ly to save a few moments in changing
a tire and thus elude a sheriff? If
there had been nothing wrong, could
not a moment of explanation have sat
isfied any.gee of the fact?
It was too much for anyone, and
Fairchild knew it. Yet he clung grim
ly to the mystery ns the truck clat
tered on, mile after mile. A small
town gradually was coming Into view.
A mile more, then the truck stopped
with a jerk.
“Where you bound for, pardner?"
“Ohndl.”
“That’s It, straight ahead. I turn
off here. Miner?"
Fairchild shrugged his shoulders
and nodded noncommittally,
"Just thought I’d ask. Plenty of
work around here for single and
double Jackers. Things are beginning
to look up n hit—at least In silver."
"Thanks. Do you know a good place
to stop?”
“Yeh. Mother Howard's hoarding
house. Everybody goes there, sooner
or later. You’ll see It on the left-hand
side of the street before you get to
the main block. Good old girl; knows
how to treat anybody In the mining
game from operators on down. She
was here when ndnlng was mining!"
Fall'chlld lifted his hag from the
rear of the vehicle, waved n farewell
to the driver and started Into the vil
lage. And then the vision of the girl
departed, momentarily, to give place
to other thoughts, other pictures, of a
day long gone.
The sun was slanting low, throwing
deep shadows from the hills into tin*
little valley with its chattering, milk
" hlie stream, softening the scars of
tin* mountains with their .great refuse
dumps; reminders of hopes of twenty
years before and as hare of vegeta
tion as in the days when the pick and
gad and drill of the prospector tore
the rock loose from Its hiding place
under the surface of the ground. The
scrub pines of the almost barren
mountains took on a llutller, softer
tone: the Jutting rocks melted away
Into their own shadows; It was a pic
ture of peace and of memories.
And It had been herd that Thornton
Fairchild, hack in the nineties, had
dreamed his dreams and fought his
fluid. A sudden cramping caught the
son'v heart, and it pounded with some
thing akin to fear. The old forebod
ing of his father’s letter had come
upon him. the mysterious thread of
that elusive. Intangible Thing great
enough to break fhe will and resist
ance of a strong man and turn him
into a weakling—silent, white-haired
—sitting by a window, waiting for
death What had It been? Why had
It come upon his father? How could
It he fought? lie brushed away the
heady perspiration with a gesture al
most of anger, then with a look of re
lief. turned in at a small white gate
toward a big. rambling building which
proclaimed Itself, by the sign on the
door, to be Mother Howard’s boarding
house.
A moment of waiting, then he faced
a gray-haired, kindly faced woman,
“He’s—He’s Gone, Mrs. Howard."
who stared at him with wide-open
eyes as she stood, hands on hips, be
fore )ii in.
“Don’t you tell me 1 don’t know
you! If you ain’t a Fairchild. I’ll ;
never feed another miner corned beef ;
and cabbage as long as I li\<■ Ain’t
yon, now?" site persisted, “ain’t you a
Fairchild?”
The man laughed in spite of him
self. “You guessed it."
“You’re Thornton Fairchild’s hoy!"
She had reached out for liis handbag,
and then, hustling about him. drew
him Into the big “parlor.” “Didn’t I
know you the minute I saw you?
I.nnd, you're the picture of your dad!
Sakes alive, how Is he?”
There was a moment of silence.
Fairchild found himself suddenly halt
ing and boyish ns lie stood before her.
“He’s—lie’s gone, Mrs. Howard."
“Dead?” She pul up both hands.
“It don’t seem possible. And me re
membering him looking Just like you.
full of life and strong and —”
"Our pictures of him are a good deal
different. I —l guess you knew him
when everything was ail right for him.
Tilings were different after he got
home again."
Mother Howard looked quickly
about her, then with a swift motion
closed the door.
“Son," she asked In a low voice,
“didn’t he ever get over It?"
"It?" Fairchild felt that he stood
on the threshold of discoveries, “What
do you mean?"
“Didn't he ever tell you anything,
Son?"
“No. I—"
“Wellr there wasn't any need to."
Rut Mother Howard’s sudden embar
rassment. her change of color, told
Fairchild it wasn't the truth. “He Just
had a little had luck out here, that
was all. His—lds mine pinched out
just when he'd thought he'd struck It
rich—or something like that."
“Are you sure that is the truth?"
For a second they faced each other,
Robert Fairchild serious and Intent.
Mother Howard looking at him with
eyes defiant, yet compassionate. Sud
denly they twinkled, the lips broke
from their straight line Into a smile,
and a kindly- old hand reached out to
take him by the arm,
"Don't you stand there and try to
tell Mother Howard she don't know
what she’s talking about!” came In
tones of mock severity. “Hear me?
Now. you get up them steps and wash
up for dinner. Take the first room on
the right. It's a nice, cheery place."
In his room. Fairchild tried not to
think. His brain was becoming too
crammed with queries, with strange
happenings and with aggravating mys
ticisms of the life Into which his fa
ther’s death had thrown him to per
mit clearness of vision. Even In
Hither Howard be hud not been able
to Mmpp ft; she fold nil too plainly
both by her notions and her words,
that she know something of the mys
tery of tlit* past—and had falsified l u
keep the knowledge from him.
It was too gulling for thought. Rob
erf Fnirehlld hastily made his toilet,
then answered the ringing of the din
ner hell, to he Introduced to strong
shouldered men who gathered about
tin* long tables; (’ornlshmen, who
talked an “h-less" language, ruddy
fared Americans, and a sprinkling of
Knglish, all of whom conversed about
things which were to Fairchild as so
much CJreek —of “levels’* and “slopes”
ami “wlnr.es.” of “skips" and “man
ways” and “risen." which meant noth
ing to the man who yet must muster
them all, If he wen* to follow his am
bition.
Robert Fnirehlld spoke hut seldom,
except to acknowledge the intl’oduc
rlons ns Mother Howard made him
known to each of his table mates. Rut i
it was not aloofness; from the first, j
the newcomer had liked fhe men I
about him. liked the ruggedness, the
mingling of culture with the lack of
It. liked the enthusiasm, the muscle
and brawn, liked them all—all hut two.
Instinctively, from the first men
tion of his name, he felt they were
watching him, two men who sat far
In the rear of thT big dining room,
older than the other occupants, far
less Inviting In appearance. One was
small, though chunky in build, with
sandy hair and eyebrows; with weak,
filmy blue eyes over which the lids
blinked constantly. The other, hlaek
halred with streaks of gray, powerful
in his build, and with a walrus-like
mustache drooping over hard Ups. was
the sort of■ antithesis naturally to he
found In the company of the smaller,
Handy eomplexioned man. Who they
were, what they were, Fairchild did
not know, except from the general
attributes which told that they too fol
lowed the great gamble of mining. Rut
one thing was certain; they watclwd
him throughout the meal ; they talked
about lit in in low tones and ceased
when Mother Howard came near; they
seemed to recognize In him someone
who brought both curiosity and innate
enmity to the surface. And more;
long before the rest had finished their
meal, they rose and left the room, in
lent, apparently, upon some Important
mission.
After that, Fairchild ate with less
of a relish. In his mind was the cer
tainty that these two men knew him—
or at least knew about him—and that
they did not relish his presence. Nor
were his suspicions long In being ful
filled. Hardly bad lie reached the
hall, when the beckoning eyes of
Mother Howard signaled to him. In
stinctively he waited for the other
diners to pass him. then looked eager
ly toward Mother Howard as she once
more approached
"I don't know what you’re doing
here,” came shortly, “but I want to.”
Fairchild straightened. “There Isn't
much to toll you." he answered quiet
ly. "My father left me the Blue Poppy
mine in his will. I'm here to work It.”
"Know anything about mining?”
“Not a thing,"
“< >r flie people you’re liable to have
to lank up against?”
“Very little.”
“Then, Son,” and Mother Howard
laid a kindly hand on Ids arm. “what
ever you do. keep your plans to your
self and don't talk too much. And
what's more. If you happen to get
into communication with Hlindeye
ItoTseman and Taylor Hill, lie your
head off Maybe you saw 'em, a sandy
haired fellow and a big man with a
Mark must ache, sitting tit the back
of the room?” Fairchild nodded.
"Well, stay away from them. They
belong to ‘Squint* liodalne. Know
him?”
She shot the question sharply.
Again Fairchild nodded.
"I've heard the name. Who Is he?”
A voice called to Mother Howard
fmm the dining room. She turned
away, then leaned close to Robert
Fairchild. “He’s a miner, and he’s al
ways been a miner. Right now’, he’s
mixed up with some of the biggest
people In town. He's always been a
man to be afraid of—and he was your
father’s worst enemy I”
Then, leaving Fairchild staring after
her, she moved on to her duties in
the kitchen.
"Rodainc’s a rattlesnake. His
son’s a rattlesnake.”
(TO RK CONTINUED.)
New Type of Power Shovel.
It has long been recognized that, to
meet certain conditions, a gasoline
driven power shovel would have ad
vantages over machines using other
forms of power. Many attempts have
been made, patterned mostly after the
steam shovel, to adapt gasoline power
to this type of machine, but all of
them have been open to criticism.
Sow. however, anew type of gasoline
power shovel, described in Popular
Mechanics, has been placed on the
market which Is a radical departure
from the accepted designs. In this
machine, which has successfully
passed its preliminary trials, all pow
er la supplied from one slow-speetl
gasoline engine, and there are no mo
tors. engines or clutches on the boom.
The dipper can be put through any
motions possible with the steam shov
el. even to the shaking of the dipper
to free It of sticky material. The
boom may he raised or lowered In the
usual manner, while the swing Is con
trolled hy a separate clutch. The
shovel Is mounted on tractor treads
and Is self-propelled.
y
The first machine gun was Invented
by M, dll perron of Lyons. France. It
was rejected hy Louis XVI us being
too murderous.
SUCH PAINS AS
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Two Month* Could Not Turn in Bed.
Lydia E. Pinkbam’s Vegetable Com*
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* n,,t turn n ’V s< ’'f * n
*" * hod and could not
: tf. JB sleep. 1 was this way
k'f— Inn I for over two monllia,
L,, ' |l I trying everything
UV ' "I 1 anyone told me, un
' til my sister brought
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K. I'inkham's Vego
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was able to bo up and to do my work
again. The hard lump left my aide and
I feel splendid in all waya. I know of
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Richardson, 4040 Orcas St, Seattle,
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This is another case where Lydia R
Ptnkham’s Vegetable Compound
brought results after "trying every thing
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If you are suffering from pain, ner
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hacking up to n bale of cotton the
two negroes bad been carrying,
snorted:
“All right, Mg boy. Let's go!”
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21S-217 Fateufl Si. NawTafk
Gmvral Ao*nf§ ijßv
Hnv i'l k\ Hxtrkui rf Cos., In*.
NomYork,TtvesUj.JjuAien.Bgdmf Wf&Sc*
mmmjmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm ''. '-*
PARKER’S
HAIR BALSAM
Rarnot-r f'ltnaruff M< prlialrf-alllat
Rctlorri Color and
Beauty to Cray and Faded Hail
i>>>' afi<l|i vat lironrtrii
niarr.i f• ' V > 1-iV W T
HINDERCORNS RnndTM t-'rna. Cal*
iouaca. aw., at>pa ail f-ala, rrj ur*a c mfort to tt;a
ffft. n.m*n walklos v. 1/ ;. 1y mu lor at l>ru**
list*. ]llcs Cbam leal Work*, N T.
DI-C O L - Q
FOR BURNS CUTS ITCH BORES
75c at stores; 85c by mail. AddreM
New Yorlc Drug Concern, New York
c mi. kKKVK K I'OHITIONt a-
Countant* Jaw. poi Cal. railway mall, depart
mental :I•• rk*. : Htenoga., watchmen. exams.
mood Free booklet liox 15. Wushlnifton, IM ’
nonpcY wii T R D ri?i£
IJ I \ 111 |1 I Short breathing re
■ lievi-d in a few hours:
swellintr reduced in a
few days; regulates ihe liver kidneys, stomach
and heart: purifies the blood, strengthen* the
entire system. Writ• to/Free Trial Treatment.
COLLUM DROPS! REMEDY CO . Dept W 0.. RTUUUA, 6*.
Grove’s
Tasteless
Chill Tonic
Stops Malaria, Restores
Strength and Energy, soc

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