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HIS LOVE STORY
by MARIE VAN VORST ILLUSTRATiON by WALTERS copvn/c/fror the : eoeaz-nsKKiu. oofffMHY SYNOPSIS. Le Comte de Sabron, captain of French cavalry, takes to his quarters to raise by 'rnncl a motherless Irish terrier pup, and names it Pitchoune. He dines with the Marquise d’Esclignac and meets Miss Julia Redmond. American heiress, who ■lngs for him an English ballad that lingers in his memory. Sabron is ordered to Algiers, but is not allowed to take servants or dogs. Miss Redmond offers to take care of the dog during his master’s Absence, but Pitchoune. homesick for hia master, runs away from her. The Mar quise plans to marry Julia to the Due de Tremont. Unknown to Sabron. Pitchoune follows him to Algiers. Dog and master meet and Sabron gets permission from the war minister to keep his dog with him. Julia writes him that Pitchoune has run iway from her. Me writes Julia of Pit moune. The Due de Tremont finds the American heiress capricious. CHAPTER Xll—Continued. “My dear Julia,” she said to the beautiful girl, looking at her through her lorgnon; “I don’t understand you. Every one of your family has married a title. We have not thought that we could do better with our money than build up fortuires already rtarted; than in preserving noble races and noble names. There has never been a divorce in our family. I am a mar quise, your cousin is a countess, your aunt is one of the peeresses of Eng land. and as for you, my dear . . Miss Redmond was standing by the piano. She had lifted the cover and was about to sit down to play. She smiled slightly at her aunt, and seemed In the moment to be the older woman. “There are titles and titles, ma tante: the only question is what kind do you value the most?” “The highest!” said her aunt with out hesitation, “and the Due de Tre mont is undoubtedly one of the most famous partis in Europe.” “He will then find no difficulty in marrying,” said the young girl, “and I do not wish to marry a man I do not love.” She sat down at the piano and her bands touched the keys. Her aunt, who was doing some dainty tapestry, whose fingers were creating silken flowers and whose mind was busy with fancies and ambitions very like the work she created, shrugged her shoul ders. “Tbit seems to be,” she said keenly, “the only tune you know, Julia.” “It’s a pretty song, ma tante.” “I remember that you played and sang it the first night Sabron came to dinner.” The girl continued to finger among the chords. “And since then never a day passes that sometime or other you do not play it through ” “It has become a sort of oraison, ma tante.” “Sabron,” said the marquise, “is a fine young man, my child, but he has nothing but his officer’s pay. More over, a soldier’s life is a precarious one.” Julia Redmond played the song soft ly through The old butler came in with the eve ning mail and the papers. The Mar quise d’Esclignac. with her embroid ery scissors, opened Le Temps from Paris and began to read with her usual Interest. She approached the little lamp on the table near her, unfolded the paper and looked over at her niece, and after a few moments, said with a slightly softened voice: “Julia!” Miss Redmond stopped playing. “Julia!" The girl rose from the piano stool and stood with her band on the instrument. “My dear Julia!” Madame d'Escli FOEMEN MADE MANY VISITS Aged French Couple Kept Track of Number of Times Germans Had Been in Village. Travelers in France Just now have to stay at all sorts of queer places for the night A correspondent writes to eay that he was forced to stop for the night at a little village near Helms. 'An old Frenchman and his wife, both o.er eighty years of age. gave me a room in the house,” he writes. "llelore going to bed the old people alked about the war. They had been living together in this same house during the Franco-German war and. said the old man. 'it does not seem five minutes ago While we have been living here,' he went on 'the German soldiers during the two wars have been billeted In this house no fewer than twenty-two times During this war they have been backwards and forwards on three or four occasions.’ "These oM Fnench people—the wom an looked very sweet in her snow wMte cap—actually kept a score of the Dumber of times the Germans bad gnac spread Le Temps out and put her hand on it. “As I said to you, my child, the life of a soldier is a pre carious one.” “Ma tante," breathed Miss Redmond from where she stood. “Tell me what the news is from Africa I think I know what you mean.” She could not trust herself to walk across the floor, for Julia Redmond in that moment of suspense found the room swimming. “There has been an engagement," said the marquise gently, for in spite of her ambitions she loved her niece. “There has been an engagement, Julia, at Dirbal." She lifted the newspaper and held it before her face and read: There has been some hard fighting In the desert, around about Dirbal. The troops commanded by Captain de Sabron were routed by the natives at noon on Thursday. They did not rally and were forced to retreat. There was a great toss of life among the natives and sev eral of the regiment were also killed. There has been no late or authenlc news from Dirbal, but the last dispatches give the department of war to understand that Sabron himself Is among the missing. The Marquise d'Esclignac slowly put down the paper, and rose quickly. She went to the young girl's side and put her arm around her. Miss Redmond covered «her face with her hands: “Ma tante, ma tante!” she mur mured. “My dear Julia,” said the old lady, “there is nothing more uncertain than newspaper reports, especially those Pltchoune Smelled Him From Head to Foot. that come from the African seat of war. Sit down here, my child.” The two women sat together on the long piano stool The marquise said: “I followed the fortunes, my dear, of my husband’# cousin through the engagement in Tonkin. I know a little what it was.” The girl was immov able. Her aunt felt her rigid by her side. “I told you,” she murmured, “that a soldier’s life was a precarious one.” Miss Redmond threw away all dis guise. “Ma tante,” she said in a hard voice. "I love him! You must have known it and seen it. I love him! He is becoming my life." As the marquise looked at the girl’s been through the village in war times. ‘Do you think they have now gone for good?’ asked the old man. Shall I ever have to make another mark on the score?’ ” TRYING OUT ELECTRIC WAITER Invention, It Is Believed, Will Do Away With the Employment of Man and Woman Servitors. An electrical invention which, It Is claimed, will do away with waiters In restaurants and hotels is being experi mented with. Each table in the res taurant is to be fitted with a frame bearing the menu and a series of elec trical “press buttons" corresponding wiih each item in the menu The cus tomer sits down before the already laid table, with a neat pile of glisten ing silver on one side, chooses the dishes which he prefers, and presses the corresponding buttons in turn In the kitchen of the restaurant the number of the table and the number of the course required are signaled on a screen to the chefs and their as sistants, and in a few seconds a steam THE CHEYENNE RECORD. face and saw her trembling Ups and 1 her wide eyes, she renounced her am bitions for JuUa Redmond. She re nounced them with a sigh, but she was a woman of the world, and more than that, a true woman. She remained for a moment In silence, holding Julia’s hands. She had followed the campaign of her husband’s cousin, a young man with an Insignificant title whom she bad not married. In this moment she relived again the arrival of the eve ning papers; the dispatches, her hus band’s news of his cousin. As she kissed Julia’s cheeks a moisture passed'Over her own eyes, which for many years had shed no tears. “Courage, my dear,” she implored “We will telegraph at once to the minister of war for news.” The girl drew a convulsive breath and turned, and leaning both elbows on the piano keys—perhaps in the very notes whose music in the little song had charmed Sabron —she burst into tears. The marquise rose and passed out of the room to send a man with a dispatch to Tarascon. CHAPTER XIII. One Dog’s Day. There must be a real philosophy in all proverbs. “Every dog has his day” is a significant one. It surely was for Pitchoune. He had his day. It was a glorious one, a terrible one, a memor able one, and he played his little part in it. He awoke at the gray dawn, springing like a flash from the foot of Sabron’s bed, where he lay asleep. In response to the sound of the reveille, and Sabron sprang up after him. Pitchoune in a few moments was In the center of real disorder. All he knew was that he followed his master all day long. The dog’s knowledge did not comprehend the fact that not only had the native village, of which his master spoke in his letter to Miss Red mond, been destroyed, but that Sab ron’s regiment itself was menaced by a concerted and concentrated attack from an entire tribe, led by a fanatic as hotminded and as fierce as the Mahdi of Sudanese history. Pitchoune followed at the heels of his master's horse. No one paid any attention to him. Heaven knows why he was not trampled to death, but he was not. No one trod on him; no horse's hoof hit his little wiry form that managed in the midst of carnage and death to keep itself secure and his hide whole. He smelt the gunpowder, he smelt the smoke, sniffed at it, threw up his pretty head and barked, puffed and panted, yelped and tore about and followed. He was not con scious of anything but that Sabron was in motion; that Sabron, his be loved master, was in action of some kind or other and he, a soldier's dog. was in action, too. He howled at fierce dark faces, when he saw them. He snarled at the bullets that whis tled around his ears and. laying his little ears back, he shook his black muzzle in the very grin of death. Sabron's horse was shot under him, and then Pitchoune saw his master, sprang upon him, and his feelings were not hurt that no attention was paid him, that not even his name was called, and as Sabron struggled on, Pitchoune followed It was his day; he was fighting, the natives; he was part of a battle; he was a soldier's dog! Little by little the creatures and things around him grew fewer, the smoke cleared and rolled away, there were a few feet of freedom around him in which he stood and barked; then he was off again close to his master's heels and not too soon He did not know the blow that struck Sabron, but he saw him fall, and then and there came into his canine heart some knowledge of the importance of his day. He had raced himself weary Every bone in his little body ached with fatigue. Sabron lay his length on the bed of a dried-up river, one of those phantom like channels of a desert stream whose course runs watery only certain times of the year. Sabron, wounded in the in" hot dish appears in a little lift at the side of the diner's table The customer helps himself, presses a button, and the dish disappears as silently as It came, leaving at the side of the plate a little aluminum ticket indicating the sum to be paid Child Research Work. Miss Elizabeth Moore of St. Louis, who is a member of the children's bu reau department of the government, has returned to Saginaw. Mich , to continue her Investigations in regard to the women of the lumber camps and health of the children. Miss Julia Lathrop, head of tne children's bureau, ordered Miss Moore to Indianapolis shortly after the holidays to assist in making preparations for a child welfare exhibition to be given in that city. Miss Moore was there ten days before returning to her regular work. Civilization's Peril. America Is closer to the heart of Europe than at any time since Eng land's colonies became Independent states. To the most isolated farm house it has been known for a half year abdomen, lay on his side. PitchouiK smelled him from head to-foot, ad dressed .himself to his restoration in his own way. He licked his face and hands and ears, sat sentinel at the be loved head where the forehead was covered with sv;eat and blood. He barked feverishly and to his attentive ears there came no answer whatso ever, either from the wounded man in the bed of the African river or from the silent plains. Sabron was deserted. He had fallen and not been missed and his regiment routed by the Arabs, had been driven into retreat. Finally the little dog who knew by instinct that life re malned in his master’s body, set him self at work vigorously to awaken a sign of life. He attacked Sabron’E shoulder as though it were a prey; b« worried him, barked in his ear, strucli him lightly with his paw, and finally awakening to dreadful pain, to fevei and to Isolation, awakening perhaps to the battle for life, to the attention! of his friend, the spahi opened hit eyes. Sabron’s wound was serious, but his body was vigorous, strong and healthy and his mind more so. There was a film over it just now. He raised him self with great effort, and in a moment realized where he was and that tc linger there was a horrible death. On each side of the river rose an inclined bank, not very high and thickly grown with mimosa bush. This meant to him that beyond it and probably within easy reach, there would be shade from the intense and dreadful glare beat ing down upon him, with death in every ray. He groaned and Pitchoune’i voice answered him. Sabron paid nc attention to his dog, did not even call his name. His mind, accustomed tc quick decisions and to a matter-of-fact consideration of life, instantly took its proper course. He must get out of the river bed or die there, rot there. What there was before him to dc was so stupendous an undertaking that it made him almost unconscious of the pain in his loins. He could not stand, could not thoroughly raise himself; but by great and painful effort, bleed ing at every move, he could crawl; he did so, and the sun beat down upon him. Pitchoune walked by his side, whining, talking to him, encouraging him, and the spahi., ashen pale, his bright gray uniform ripped and stained, all alone in the desert, with death above him and death on every hand, crawled, dragged, hitched along out ol the river to the bank, cheered, en couraged by his little dog. For a drop of water he would have given—oh, what had he to give? Foi a little shade he would have given— about all he had to give had been given to his duty in this engagement which could never bring him glory, oi distinction or any renown. The work of a spahi with a native regiment is not a very glorious affair. He was simply an officer who fell doing his daily work. Pitchoune barked and cried out to him; “Courage!” “I shall die here at the foot of the mimosa," Sabron thought; and his hands hardly had the courage or strength to grasp the first bushes by which ’he meant to pull himself up on the bank. The little dog was close to him, leaping, springing near him, and Sabron did not know how tired and thirsty and exhausted his brave little companion was, or that perhaps in that heroic little body there was as much of a soldier's soul as in his own human form. The sun was so hot that it seemed to sing in the bushes. Its torrid fever struck on his brown, struck on his chest; why did it not kill him? He was not even delirious, and yet the bushes sang dry and crackling. What was their melody? He knew It. Just one melody haunted him always, and now he knew the words: they were a prayer for safety. (TO BE CONTINUED.) Or He Believes So. Every br.chelor is a hero to somt married woman.—Smart Set. that we are not remote from the por tentous events beyond the sea; that the fate of our brothers over there, in some way which we do not well discern, involves us also. We are, whether we like it or not, full share holders in the civilization which is im periled. Our commerce and industry, our prosperity and well-being, our cul ture and religion, the foundations of our common humanity, and the ideals of our common aspirations, are all at stake. —Edward T. Devine in the Sur vey. For covers of Birds. Start at once to make some bird houses. Try scattering a few aboul the premises and enjoy the neighbors that will move into them. One of th« most pleasing songsters that may eas ily be attracted to a home near the house, is the wren. A very small open ing should be made in its house tc prevent other birds from using it The Prevailing Rates. "That writer is expensive, but there’s meat in everything he writes." “Then, no wonder he comes so high.'* CalumetrXjL^j £2 « “I want what I ask for— J 1 9 P& 1 I know what it would Jg 5| vC H J mean to go home without JJj . V Kit Mother won’t take lj| J J |fS| S chances she’s sore ot F|j * I KJi Calumet sure of light, Jr J 0 vC lG wholesome, tasty bak- Dj 1 1 rj ri form results—of purity £§ J r and economy. Yoa try 1 J Kg CALUMET fig KS Baking Powder I[q D favorite brand once £[ U P U RoceWedHigliwt i 5j Cheap and big canßald ngPo wdera do not save you money. Calumctdoes—it’sPurc and far superior to sour milk and soda. Electric Bait for Nignt Fishing. Having noticed that certain game fish, particularly the bass and mus kellunge, often contain glowworms and other phosphorescent insects, an inventor has devised a unique elec trically illuminated bait for either deep-water trolling or night Ashing. The bait is made of celluloid, in the form of a minnow, and containing a miniature electric lamp which is sup plied with current through Ane cop per wires carried along the Ash line. The light may be Aashed on or off by means of a pushbutton, making the bait resemble a glowworm if de sired. SWAMP-ROOT STOPS SERIOUS BACKACHE When your back aches, and your blad der and kidneys seem to be disordered, r#* member it is needless to suffer —go to your nearest drug store and get a bottle of Dr. Kilmer’s Swamp-Root. It is a physician’* prescription for diseases of the kidney* and bladder. It has stood the test of years and ha* a reputation for quickly and effectively giving results in thousands of cases. This prescription was used by Dr. Kil mer in his private practice and was so very effective that it has been placed on sale everywhere. Get a bottle, 50c and $1 .00, at your nearest druggist. However, if you wish first to test this great preparation send ten cents to Dr. Kilmer & Co., Binghamton, N. Y., for a sample bottle. When writing be sure and mention this paper.—Adv. It Always Pays. The hour for his punishment had ar rived. Father was waiting with a strap, but Jack did not appear. His mother went to look for him and found him In the cellar putting a geog raphy inside his clothing where it would do the most good. "What are you doing?” she asked. "I'm demonstrating the practical value of preparedness,” replied the boy. In recognition of his son’s resouroe tulness, father declared an armistice and laid aside the strap.