Cheyenne record., November 04, 1915, Image 2

About Cheyenne record. (Cheyenne Wells, Cheyenne County, Colo.) 1913-19??

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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.