The Elbert County tribune. [volume], June 16, 1904, Image 2

About The Elbert County tribune. [volume] (Elbert, Elbert County, Colo.) 18??-1920

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JOHN BURT
g Author ol “Tb« Kldnapp <4 MUOuMlrea. " “Colonel Monro* * Doctrine." Etc. jjjg
yk Oo FT RIGHT. 1(102. BT I All rifhta I OOFY RIGHT, 1903. BT
ff Fmprqick Dfham Adams | re—rrod IA. J. Dbizil Biddli CM
CHAPTER ElGHT—Continued.
When the launch approached, Ar
thur Morris was seen In the bow.
There were several richly dressed
young women In the party. John Burt
saw at a glance that Morris and some
of bis companions were under the In
fluence of liquor. Jesftte guessed as
much, and her suspicions became a
certainty when Morris stepped un
steadily to the landing and came
toward her, a vacant amile mantling
his face.
“A thousand pardons. Miss Carden,”
hc'said, his voice husky and his body
very erect, but wavering. "A thou
sand pardons! Detention unavoidable,
assure you—un'vold’ble detention, as
sure you! ’Sail right, though; 'sail
right now. Allow me. Miss Carden,”
and he stepped forward to offer his
arm. John Burt remained by Jessie's
side.
"Do not dare to speak to me, sir!”
cried Jessie, shame and anger driving
the crimson to her face. "Don't let
him come near me, John!” she ex
claimed, clinging to Burt's stalwart
arm.
"Stand back, Morris!” said John in
n low, clear tone, a glitter in his dark
grny eyes. "You are in no condition,
sir, to meet Miss Carden."
The flashily-dressed throng of
guests was grouped behind Arthur
Morris. One of the young women
grasped Arthur Morris by the lapel
of the coat.
"Come on. you fool!” she said with
a vindictive little laugh. "Don't you
see you're not wanted?” She turned
him half round and Kingsley grabbed
him by the arm.
"Come along, commodore,” said that
young blood. "You are in the wrong
pew, commodore! Cheer up, sad sea
dog; we may be happy yet!” And with
laughter and taunts the guests of the
Voltaire led the yacht's befuddled
owner along the pier Into the grove.
Jessie shed tears of vexation, but
anger dried her eyes. She turned to
John with a wistful little smile on her
lips.
"Take the out in your boat, John,”
she said. "Let's get as far as we can
from those dreadful people.”
In a few minutes the Standish bob
bed saucily at the landing, and Jessie
stepped on board. The wind had
scarcely filled the sail when Morris
came running down the pier. He stop
ped at he saw the pair in the boat,
and glared at them as they glided
away, brute rage showing in every
feature of his flushed face. His
friends followed nnd led him back.
Little was said between the two
as the boat moved swiftly along. Each
was busy with thoughts, and both
seemed under the spell of threatened
trouble. John pointed the boat for
Minot's Light, and having passed in
side followed the rocky shore, avoid
ing the reefs and shoals, which were
to him as an open book.
“Tell me a story. John, or any
thing! We’re both awfully stupid to
day. Don't you think so?”
"I will tell you a Becret —two
secrets,” said John, gravely.
"Don’t tell me secrets if you wish
them kept. John," laughed Jessie. "I’m
a regular tell-tale!”
“You will keep these secrets —at
least, one of them." replied John. "I’m
going away. That’s the first secret.”
"Going away?” echoed Jessie.
"Where. John?"
"Out Weßt—to California.”
"Going to leave Harvard? Going
to California? Surely you're Joking!
What does this mean. John?" The
little face was serious now.
"That is the second secret. Jessie.”
There was that in hlB voice and in
his eyes which thrilled the girl by his
side. Jessiq's soft bfown eyes open
ed wide, then dropped as they met bis
fervent gaze.
“I am going away, Jessie, because
I love you."
The little hand became imprisoned
in a tender clasp, and Bhe listened as
In a dream to the words which clam
ored for her love.
"Listen to me, Jessie—listen to
me!” His voice was commanding in
its earnestness. "I do not ask you to
love mo now. I do not ask you to
promise to be my wife. I only ask
you to know thut I love you; to know
there Is one man who has no thought
other than your welfare; who cher
ishes no ambition other than to see
you showered with all the blessings
and honors which God. can grant to u
good woman. That is my love, Jes-
By FREDERICK
UPHAM ADAMS
sie! If some day I have an honest
right to ask your love in return. 1
shall do so. making no claim on our
old friendship. May I love you that
way? Say that I may, Jessie!”
"I —I want you' to love me, John,
but please don’t speak of it again.
John!" said Jessie, raising her eyes
glistening with tears. “I mean —not
to speak of It for years. John. I have
not thought of love; at least, I—l
don’t think I have! Please, John,
promise me that you will not say any
thing more about it until—things are
different. Will you promise?"
John Burt’s face was radiant as he
made the promise.
The sail was raised, and they start
ed back toward the grove. John help
ed Jessie to the landing, and turned
to see Sam Rounds running toward
them.
“Excuse me,” said he breathlessly
to Jessie. "I want you. John!” He
drew John aside. "Arthur Morris and
his friends are drunk in the hotel,”
he said excitedly. "He says he’s go
ing to kill you, and he's insulted Miss
Carden half a dozen times."
John's teeth were set and his hands
clenched, but his voice was calm as
he turned to Jessie.
"I must go to the hotel for a few
minutes. I’ll meet you and Sam
later,” he said. "You'll excuse mo,
won’t you. Jessie?”
"Oh. John, for my sake den t get
Into trouble!" pleaded Jessie, who
guessed something of the truth.
John walked hurriedly away. En
tering the hotel, he say Arthur Morris
and five of his male companions seat
ed around' a table loaded with cham
pagne bottles and glasses.
John stood unobserved in the deep
tering the hotel,he saw Arthur Morriß
was attempting to sing, hammering on
the table with a cane to beat time.
"You're a fine I.otharlo, commo
dore!” said Kingsley, as he slowly
filled his glass. "After all your boasts
you let a yokel cut you out, shake his
fist in your face, and sail away with
the fair maiden! Your amours weary
me!”
"Hold your tongue, Kingsley!”
growled Morris. "You'll sing a differ
ent tune a few weeks from now. As
for thlH fellow, Burt, i'll horsewhip
him the first time I meet him! You
need not worry about my success with
the Carden. t I’ll wager you that in
less than a year i will—”
John Burt glided across the room,
grasped him by the shoulders, drag
ged him from the chair, and with a
grip of Iron shook him as a dog does
a rat. His wineglass fell with a crash
to the floor.
"Another word, you drunken insult
er of women, and I will beat your
head to a pulp!"
Morris’ guests threw themselves be
tween the two men. and John relaxed
his grasp on Morris’ neck. Dazed for
the moment, Morris recovered him
self, and his face became distorted
with rage. Seizing a heavy bottle,
he hurled it at John's head. The bot
tle missed its mark and crashed
through a mirror. Reaching Into his
pocket with a quickness wonderful in
his condition, he drew a revolver,
and before any one could interfere
fired pointblank at John Burt, who
was not three yards away.
Like a panther, Burt leaped under
the leveled arm. A second shot struck
the celling, in a writhing, struggling
mass, amid overturned chairs and
tables, and the flight of panic stricken
spectators, both men lurched heavily
to the floor, John Burt uppermost. As
they fell, a third shot was fired, the
, report being muffled as the shell ex
ploded within their close embrace.
The smoking weapon fell to the
floor from the nerveless grasp of Ar
thur Morris. John Burt seized it and
thrust it into his pocket, but the pre
caution was unnecessary. Morris lay
on the sanded floor of the inn. stark
and deathlike, a frown upon bis face.
On the white flannel shirt above his
heart was an ominous smear of red.
slowly widening in a circle with each
respiration, before the eyes of the
men who bent over him. A froth
tinged with blood oozed and bubbled
fj-om his mouth.
CHAPTER NINE.
The Parting.
John felt the touch of a hand on his
shoulder, and, turning quickly, faced
Sam Rounds.
“Fer God's sake, git outer here,
John. aL soon as ye can!” whispered
Ham. John hung back defiantly.
"Come on. John. Jessie’s waitin' fer
ye!"
At the sound of Jessie's name a
wave of agony swept over John Hurt.
With a glance at the motionless form
of Morris, he turned and followed
Sam Rounds. No hand was raised to
stop uim. The witnesses of the trag
edy, held in a spell, had eyes for
naught but its victim.
Jessie ran forward to meet him,
her face white with fear.
“Oh, what has happened, John?
What has happened?” Her voice trem
bled and her llpB parted with a vague
terror. “Are you shot? Are you hurt,
John? Oh, tell me, John!”
“I'm not hurt, darling.” said John,
looking.into the uplifted eyes. "Some
thing has happened, and we must
leave at once. 1 will tell you about It
on the way home.”
By a stern effort John Burt master
ed his emotions and calmly told Jessie
what had happened. He said no word
of the shameful insults in which her
name had been bandied in a public
drinking place. He explained that a
quarrel had arisen, during which Mor
ris had been shot with his own weap
on. Jessie listened breathlessly. It
had grown so dark that John could
not see her face, but there was a
tremor in her voice when she asked:
“Will he die. John?
"I fear so,” replied John.
It might have been imagination, but
he thought that Jessie shuddered and
drew away from him. They heard the
rapid beat of hoofs behind them and
she clutched his arm.
Out of the darkness a horse, madly
ridden, dashed forward, and was pull
ed back on his haunches by the side
of the carriage. A face peered in—
the homely but welcome face of Sam
Rounds.
“Drive on as fast as ye can, John,’*
gasped Sam. "I’ve thrown 'em off
the scent. I ran the Standlsh out
inter the bay, set ’er tiller an' let 'er
go. an’ come back an' told ’em you
hud given ’em the slip that way.
Pretty slick, eh? You bet none o*
them dudes can get the best of Sam
Rounds! GHt up!”
Sam gave the horses a cut of th«
whip which sent them dashing down
the road. A few minutes later they
reached the Bishop farmhouse. Sam
held the excited horses while John
helped Jessie to alight.
“Jump on my horse and git!" said
Sam in a whisper.
John drew Jessie to the shadow of a
maple and held her hands In his.
"Jessie, I am innocent, but the
world will hold me responsible for I
the death of that blackguard. Sweet- I
heart. I had dreamed of bridging the
gulf between us. I had faith that j
some lucky star would smile on ray 1
ambitions; that my youth and health
would one day make me worthy of
the grandest gift liod gives to man— I
the love of the woman he worships? '
That hope is not dead, but it has gone
far from me. 1 must endure either
imprisonment and disgrace at home
or exile abroad. I can face, either,
Jessie, if I have the support of you*
friendship, and the knowledge that
you hold me guiltless. Can you give
me them, sweetheart? - *
“Both. John.” said Jessie, softly. “I
—1—shall pray for your success. Qo
now. John! Take Sam's advice and
mine. Good-bye. dear!" There were
tears in the sweet voice.
“Will you kiss me, Jessie?"
(To be continued.)
A Bright Boy.
Judge E. H. Gary, chairman of the
executive committee of the Steel
Trust, used to live in the Illinois town
of Wheaton.
“One day in Wheaton." Judge Gary
said recently, “I took dinner with a
clergyman and his family. The clergy
man had an eight-year-old son called
Joe, and Joe was a very bright boy.
“ ‘Look here, Joe,’ I said during the
course of the dinner, 'I have a ques
tion to ask you about your father.’
"Joe looked gravely at me.
“‘All right; I’ll answer your ques
tion.’ he said.
" ’Well,’ said I. 'I want to know If
your father doesn't preach the same
sermon twice sometimes.’
" 'Yes, I think he does,’ said Joe,
’but the second time he always hollers
in different places from what he did
the first time.’ ”
Quite Feasible.
Joseph M. Edwards, who travels for
a Baltimore dry gods house, told the
following at the Grand the other even
ing:
"In Baltimore there’s an old bache
lor I'm acquainted with who's a bit of
a wit in his way. He lives, or rather
did. before the fire, as it burned him
out. in a very dilapidated house, and
his rooms were always in great disor
der.
"Why don’t you get married?" I
said to him one day. "Then you
would have gome one to keep the
place tidy, and make it homelike.’
." 'The fact is. I've never thought of
It.’ he replied, ’but it seems quite feas
ible that a better half would want
better quarters.’
"Since the fire I have not seen the
old fellow, and no one Beems to know
nf his present whereabouts."—New
York Globe.
Wealthy Woman Evangelist.
' ’ /
Miss Mary B. Robinson of Pittsburg,
Pa., is the richest woman evangelist.
She is the niece of John G. Robinson,
secretary of the Pittsburg and Lake
Erie railway; has a fortune of $500,-
000 in her own right and owns one of
the most luxurious homes in the
smoky city. She is young, pretty and
has such a glorious voice that an im
presario offered her $10,000 a year to
sing in public. She has decided to
enter the field of evangelical work
and devote her life to teaching the
moral law and trying to save sinner*
Jest nuts
The Meaning of Patience.
The teacher was telling the mean
ing of patience to the small boy, so,
after explaining that patience was
waiting for things contentedly, she
said:
“Now, suppose you wanted some
thing very much, and your mother
couldn't give It to you Just when you
asked for It, what would she say?”
"She’d say, 'Go away and don’t
bother me!’” said the boy.
Mrs. Rafferty—Mike was a fine an' considerate husband.
Mr. O’Rourke—Is that so?
Mrs. Rafferty—Yls. He always hit me wld th’ Boft end of th’ broom.
Had the Right Idea.
Mrs. Enpeck—l think, Henry, that
our daughter has made a very satis
factory marriage, and that she will
succeed very well In the management
of her husband.
Henry Enpeck—Why do you think
BO?
Mrs. Enpeck—l overheard her talk
ing to him this morning, and she got
him to agree to a proposition like this:
"If you will do as I want, 1 promise to
do the same.”
Knew What He Would Want.
Clerk—l am to he married shortly.
Couldn’t you manage to Increase my
salary a little?
Employer—Couldn't, really. But I’ll
toll you what I'll do for you. my boy.
I’ll shorten your hours during the
first three months so that you can
spend your evenings at home, and
after that I'll lengthen them again, so
that you will have an excuse to get
away.
In Arizona.
The Coroner—Have you any Idea
what caused the stranger's death?
Broncho Pete —Yep. He died from
heart trubble.
j The Coroner—Are you sure?
Broncho Pete —Sartenly. The heart
wus a ace an' he had It up his sleeve.
See?
Ready for Action.
Miles—l understand Knox and How
ell have at last burled the hatchet
and are working together for political
advancement.
Giles—They may have buried the
hatchet, but i'll b*t each of them has
a hammer up his sleeve.
Such Dear Friends, Too.
Clara—l'll tell you a secret, dear, if
you’ll promise never to repeat It.
Maude —All right. Out with It.
Clara—Fred proposed to me last
night.
Maude —Oh. say. doesn't he do It
awkwardly, though?
Force of Habit.
"I appreciate the fact that you
have honored me with a proposal."
sakl the dear girl, "but are you sure
your love for me Is the real thing?”
“Perhaps not,” frankly replied the
young drug clerk, "but It Is less ex
pensive and just as good.”
His Philosophy.
"How is It. old man. that whenever
I pass you way, you're Just a-danclng
in the sunshine?”
“Bless God!” exclaimed the old
darky. "I got so much trouble. T jest
has to dance!"—Atlanta Constitution.
Wanted Distance.
"Do you think I am capable of play
ing a part?" asked the Btage-struck
youth.
"I do,” replied the busy manager;
“and the farther apart we are when
you act the better It will suit me.”
The Cynical Spinster.
“If you were married,” said the sum
mer girl, “would you believe every
thing your husband told you?”
"No,” answered Miss Cayenne, "bnt
■for the sake of peace in the family
I'd make him believe I believed It.”
Why She Couldn’t.
Doctor —“I see what the mrtter is.
ft’s dyspepsia. All you have to do Is
laugh heartily before and after each
meal.”
Mrs. Blinks —"Impossible. 1 got the
meals myself and wash the dishes.”
Pasture Repartee.
First Lamb —“Well, how do ewe like
the wether, my buck?"
Second Lamb—“ Bah! You’re trying
to pull the wool over my eyes, but
i '£L too young to fleecV
After the Event.
Blanche —Tell me. Florence, how
Frank happened to kiss you.
Florence —It was kinder funny. Ycu
see. Frank asked me if I was fond «»f
klsnlng. I didn’t like to show my Ig
norance, so I said, “Oh, yes, awfully
fond of It.”
Blanche—And then?
Florence—Then he kissed me. But
’tween you and me, Blanche, my an
swer was right, after all.
PROOF.
Presents From Cuba for His Wife. .
"Yes, I have just returned from
Cuba,” said J. O. Connaughton last
night. “I brought back with me some
nice presents for my wife. What aro
they? Well, a box of cigars, a fine
panama hat and an old Spanish pipe.
“Do I think she will enjoy such pres
ents? Well, why not? Last Christmas
she gave me a bottle of perfume, a fur
muff and a lady’s diamond ring."
Resourceful Widow.
Mrs. Bangs—So that pretty widow
is really married so soon again, eh?
Old Bangs—Yes.
Mrs. Bangs—But her late husband’s
will expressly stipulated that If she
took a second husband her legacy was
to revert to his most distant relative.
Old Bangs—That’s where Bhe was
foxy. She hunted up the relative and
married him.
Righting a Wrong.
“But,” she protested, "I have been
told that you are a reformed rake.”
" ’Tls false,” he replied. “Why, I
never even thought of reforming.”
Asked and Answered.
Little Willie —What’s a cannibal,
pa?
Pa —One who loves his fellow' man,
my son.
Mrs. Benton Holme —Doctor, my husband's heart beats very weakly.
Dr. Phil Graves—I’ll soon stop that.
To the Point.
"What are you here for?” inquired
the prison visitor.
"For two reasons,” replied the Bos
ton burglar. "I was sent here for
breaking In; I’m still here for the
reason that I have not broken out”
Between Friends.
Fred—The girl I am engaged to is
very poor; in fact, she hasn t any
thing at all.
Joe —That's tough. And she will
have still less after she marries you.
Not a Safe Bet.
"Yes, my boy.” said the parson dur
ing a call, as he laid hlB hand on the
family bfble, "every word in this book
Is true.”
"Well, I know the words are true.”
rejoined the wise youngster, "but I
wouldn’t advise you to bet on the %
figures sister has been monkeying
with on the family record page."
Chatting at Breakfast Tim'e.
"Confound this breakfast food,” 4
roared Stubbs, bringing his fist down
on the table like a flip hammer. "I
want eggs! Do you hear? Eggs!”
"That’s right,” said Mrs. Stubbs. "I
like to see you make an ass of your-
Belf.”
"I suppose you do, madam. You
think If I'm an ass I can eat oats.”
Enough of Trouble. f
"f suppose you will marry when
you grow up,” said the visitor pleas
antly.
“No,” replied the thoughtful little
girl Innocently. "Mamma says papa
Is more care than the children, so I
guess the care of my children will
enough for me without the care of a ’
husbund.”
His Explanation. )
"But why,” I asked the good wife,
“are you so anxious to secure the top
flat in that ten-story apartment
house?”
"Because" explained the household
freißht payer, “the elevator would be
a great help to us In bringing up the
children."
Fine Finish.
Got It at Once.
"Fact is.” said the one man, l
married because I was lonely, as much
aH for any other reason. To put it
tersely. I married for sympathy."
"Well,” said the other man, “you
have mine.”—London Tit-Bits.
Misunderstood.
"I.uk heah, Remus, how It is Ah
doan see yo’ at meetin’ eny mo ?"
“Why, de pawson Insulted me."
"How so? He only sed: ‘Cum on,
yo’ horny-handed sons ob toll.' "
"Ah thought he sed ‘horney-headed/
Dat means old Satan."
A Sleep Walker.
Newitt—He’s a somnambulist.
Popley—l guess you might call me
one, too. *
Newitt —Why, surely you don’t walk
In your sleep?
Popley—Oh, no; but I walk the
baby in his sleep.
Now They Don’t Speak.
"No man could kiss me." said Miss
Plainun,%with decieded emphasis.
"Oh, I don't know,” rejoined Miss t
Dimples. “Some men aro awfully
reckless.”
EASY.
Such Inconstancy/
He—l wonder If there is another *
girl In the whole world so sweet as »
my little sweetheart?
She—What's that. How dare you
think of another girl? I shan’t speak
to you for a week.—Stray Stories.
The Scare That Failed.
Edgar—There are 30.000.000 mic- #
robes in one plate of Ice cream.
Ethel—Oh, let’s have some! How
delightful to get so much of anvthinf
for so little money!