Phoenix tribune. [volume], September 02, 1922, Page PAGE THREE, Image 3

About Phoenix tribune. [volume] (Phoenix, Ariz.) 1918-193?

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V
SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 2, 1922
Political Announcements
COUNTY ATTORNEY
Subject to the republican primaries
of Maricopa county on September 12,
I respectfully submit my name for
the position of county attorney.
Respectfully,
HENRY J. SULLIVAN.
FOR JUDGE SUPERIOR COURT
I hereby announce my candidacy
for Judge of the Superior Court of
Maricopa county, subject to the the Re
publican primaries.
JOSEPH S. JENCKES.
FOR COUNTY RECORDER
I hereby announce myself as a can
didate for the office of County Re
corder of Maricopa county, subject to
the action of the democratic primary
election to be held on September 12,
1922. A woman for a woman’s job.
Will appreciate any and all support
given me.
MARGUERITE H. BRIDGES
FOR SHERIFF
I herewith present my name to the
voters of Maricopa county, subject to
the action of the primary, Sept. 12. j
If elected, I will be a Sheriff for alii
the people.
HAZE BURCH
$2,884,558.78
SAVED TO THE TAXPAYERS
and citizens of Arizona during the last three years by the Arizona
Corporation Commission in reductions in rates secured or applications
for increases denied, summarized as follows:
Railroad rates and fares. Docket 1191 (increases denied) $1,325,000.00
Two-line haul case. Docket 1162 (reductions ordered)
(annual) 250,000.00
Express rates and charges, Docket 13068, (increases de
nied) (annual) 110,666.66
Hay and grain rates. Docket 12929 (reductions secured)
(annual) 150,00.00 j
Hay and grain rates during Federal control (increases
prevented) (annual) 450,250.00
Gas and Electric rates, Docket 1183 (increases denied... 598,642.12
Total $2,884,588.78
The above statistics taken almost entirely from the sworn testi
mony of the representatives of the public service corporations.
Note there is an annual saving to the fanner of $600,250.00 on
hay and grain rates alone.
Since July 1, 1915, we have turned into the State Treasury
$601,355.04 in excess of all expenditures, thereby reducing your direct
j taxes by that sum.
Although required by law to do considerable traveling, we have
j never spent one dollar in automobiles or automobile upkeep.
It is on this record and much other data of a similar character
that I solicit your vote for renomination and re-election.
AMOS A. BETTS
I GOOD NEWS FOR MEN =
AND YOUNG MEN
*
New Fall Suits
With Two Pairs of Trousers
$35.
—Bran new arrivals, these
are —from the best makers
in the land—which means jpS
that the clothes are in the / \»i
new season’s best styles < li
and made of dependable , I'
—Two and 3 button, sing
le and double breasted, as v till
well as Sports styles and Lmb idrl'
conservative models for i t
the older men. imjf /M
—Suits of all Wool Tweed ra®f|| VwL
Cassimere and Worsted in m jj|| 1 W|\\. j
rich dark shades as well U\ SMBI V- 'i
as the popular greys and \ p f
light browns. 1 W
—Remember, these are I |
x NEW Suits with two V
pairs of trousers, at the ''lip
Boston Store, specially t| ]
priced at $35.00 I J I
SEE WINDOW Jtei / j
DISPLAY
' Our 4 Chief
Kostam Store
E STOR-
FOR STATE SENATOR
MRS. H. L. MOSHER,
i 415 North First Street, Phoenix.
, For Democratic State Senator.
■ BABIES ANR RANCHERS FIRST
Telephone 6958
SECRETARY OF STATE
Candidate for Secretary of State,
subject to the Republican primaries,
Sept 12.
WESLEY A HILL.
If a farmer desires to improve his
poultry and make it more profitable,
let him begin introducing pure bred
males. If he gets a good male annu
. ally let it be of the best breed origin
' he will have a uniform flock and they
will grow better and better every
’ I season at a cost that is almost insigni
ficant.
Neighbors desiring to improve their
flocks, should cooperate in purchasing
pure breeds , if they refuse, they
i should expect to pay the enterprising
| poultry man a good price for his su
perior s took, especially when they
; call for eggs from mongrel hens to be
i exchanged for eggs from purebred
hens. A few dollars Invested In pure
I breeds will make a marked difference
iUn the quality of the stock and the
number of eggs laid, of more than ten
1 times the cost of the stock purchased.
' "
Personal, Local and Society News
■ - r»F THF. STATE CA PITAI. =r~: ::
By R. L. 8., Society Editor
| I
!
I Lively Meeting
Sunday evening an enthusiastic, in
teresting and well-attended meeting
of the Epworth League was held at
the C. M. E. church. The subject:
“Our Border Neighbor—Mexico,” was
. discussed by several speakers and
| some good thoughts brought out. Next
Sunday' the subject for discussion is:
“Better Epworth Leaguers.” I. Cor.
15:57-58. The discussion will be
opened by Mrs. Amelia Thompson,
followed by Mrs. J. Tannehill and
others. Everybody Invited to attend
the meeting. League begins at 6:30
and closes at 7:30 sharp. Come early.
M. A. White, president. Mrs. J.
Tannehill, Sec’y
+ 4
Funeral Held
Funeral services for the late Earle
A. Johnson were held Sunday, August
27, at the A. M. E. church. Many
glowing tributes to the worth of the
young man were paid by friends of
the deecased. The Knights of Tabor,
of which he was a member, had charge
of arrangements. Letters of con
dolence from various organizations
were read and the entire service was
very touching.
4* 4*
New Restaurant Opens
H. Tani and wife, well known res
taurant people, have leased the Noodle
j House at 121 So. 2nd street, and will
take charge of the place this week.
Chop Suey, Noodles, short orders and
regular meals will be served and they
invite old and new customers to visit
their establishment. There are tables
and private booths, and in addition to
the first class service, the place will
be conducted in an orderly, up-to-date
manner. After church services or af
ter the show, visit the Noodle House
at 121 So. 2nd St.
4* 4-
Entertain at Dinner
On last Sunday, Mr. and Mrs. J. A.
Green, of 947 West Grant street, had
as their dinner guests, Mr. and Mrs.
P. S. Lott and Mrs. Wm. Austin. A
sumptuous repast was served and en
joyed. Little James A. Jr., son of Mr.
and Mrs. Green, was among those
present.
4* 4*
Mr. Lewis Jenkins, who for some
time has been employed in the Green
Brothers shop on North Central Ave.,
left Tuesday evening for the coast to
remain for an indefinite time.
4> 4-
Weekly Prayer Meeting
The members of the C. M. E. Home
Mission Society held their weekly cot
tage prayer meeting at the home of
Mrs. J. McCoy, 1705 East Jefferson.
The meeting was well attended and
the services were good. Everybody
invited to attend the meetings.
4- 4*
Returns from Coast
Mrs. Oscar McCloud, of 1226 East
Jefferson street, returned this week
from the coast, where she spent sev
eral weeks visiting friends and rela
tives.
4. .5.
Splendid Services
On last Sunday the services at the
Church of God in Christ, 14th street
and Madison, were well attended and
in the moning the pastor, El der L. L.
Britton preached an excellent sermon.
In the evening the Rev. Major Jones
delivered a remarkable sermon to a
packed house. This sermon was con
sidered one of the best ever heard in
Phoenix from a local preacher. For
three-quarters of an hour he held his
audience at rapt attention and drove
home some telling facts. Rev. Jones
is one of our promising young men.
4. *
Greens Are Hosts
Tuesday, August 29, Mr. and Mrs.
J. A. Green entertained compliment
ary to Editor and Mrs. A. R. Smith
and family at their hospitable home.
947 West Grant street. Covers were
laid for nin« and a delightful three
course repast was served. After din
ner the guests were taken for a ride
in the Greens’ big touring car. Mr.
Green is an old employee of the Ari
zona Republican, the “State’s Great
est Newspaper," and knows what it
takes to win the heart of a newspaper
man. Only a dozen Y-B cigars were
smoked during the afternoon.
4> pf
Club Meeting
Thursday. September 7, all mem
ters of the Goldinol club are urgently
requested to meet at 519 Ea3t Jeffer
son street. The hour of meeting will
be 8 P. M., and a f ill attendance is
reaired. By oredr of the vice presi
dent, Mrs. Mattie King
4* 4>
Entertain at Dinner
Mr. and Mrs. G. 3. Rodgers of 26
N. 11th street, entertained Sunday,
August 27, with a delightful dinner at
their palatial home. Covers were laid
for Rev. and Mrs. A. C. Caldwell, Mr.
S. W. Thompson, Mr. and Mrs. Rodgers
and daughter.
THE PHOENIX TRIBUNE—ALWAYS IMPROVING
Big Barbecue Monday
Don’t forget the big barbecue picnic
; to be held Monday, September 4, at
Joint Head. Swimming, fishing and
other summer sports will be indulged
i in, and all the good things to eat that
I your heart may desire. Major Jones
t and Albert Turner will be in charge
of arrangements, and perfect order
. will prevail. Autos will leave the
> City Hall Plaza at 2nd street every
, hour, and the cost of the round trip
I is 30 cents. Get ready and LET’S GO!
I Fun and amusement for old and
I young, ice cream, cold drinks, barbe
. cue and good eats for every one. Lay
aside “Dull Care,” come and spend a
jolly day at Joint Head. Remember
the date—Monday, September 4, La
bor Day, Everybody’s gotng, why not
: you?
4. *.
■ Here from Douglas
Mr. and Mrs. Norman King of Doug
f las, Ariz., were in the city last Sunday
, visiting their parents, Rev. and
. Mrs. Edward Jones at 23 North Tenth
. street. Mr. King is a prominent busi
s ness man of Douglas and formerly
i represented The Phoenix Tribune in
that city.
4. .5.
Enjoying Vacation
Miss Rosa Cunningham of this city,
i who has been spending the summer
I with relatives in Talladega, Ala., left
. that place last week for Nashville.
I Tenn., to spend a few- weeks with
friends, after which she will proceed
: to St. Louis, then to Colorado Springs,
1 Colo., where she will remain for an
> indefinite time.
[ -I- v
; On His Vacation
Mr. Wm. Jones, popular chef at the
1 Country Club, is on his annual vaca
tion . He is wearing a broad, cheerful
smile, radiating happiness and good
cheer wherever he goes, Mr. Ed. Lock
ett. pastry cook at the Country Club,
1 ended his vacation Friday and reliev
■ ed Mr. Jones. These two men have
- made good, and the people of this
■ community are proud of them.
4. *
Returns from Chicago
Mrs. A. J. Isabel will return Satur
day from Chicago, where she spent the
summer with relatives and friends.
1 Mr. and Mrs. Isabel reside at 515 So.
’ Second Avenue.
1
CHURCH DIRECTORY
FIRST A. M. E. ZION CHURCH
Corner 10th street and East Wash
ington street. A. J. Woodward, pastor.
Residence No. 2 So. 10th streeL
Phone 5153. Sunday school, 10 a. m.
Preaching at 11 a. m. and 8 p. m.
Epworth League"at 6:30 p. m.
A. M. E. Church
Corner Second street and Jefferson
T. J. Sanford, pastor. Residence, 113
. South Second street. Phone 5018.
. Sunday school at 10 a. m. Preaching
at 11 a. m. and 8 p. m. Christian En
deavor at 6:15 p. m Prayer meeting
Wednesday night. General class
, every Sunday at 12:15 p. m.
Second Baptist Church
! Corner Fifth street and Jefferosn.
• E. D. Green, pastor. Residence 1415
East Jefferson streeL Sunday school
at 9:30 a. m. Preaching at 11 a. m.
and 8 p. m. B. Y. P. U. at 6 p. m.
Prayer meeting every Wednesday
evening.
C. M. E. Church
Corner Seventh street and Jefferson.
M. Thompson, pastor. Residence, 112
South Seventh street. Phone 4869.
Sunday school at 10 a. m. Preaching
at 11 a. m. and 8 p. m. Epworth
League at 6:30 p. m. Teachers'
meeting every Wednesday evening.
Antioch Baptist Church
(11th St. and Washington)
C. A. Gilmore, pastor. Residence, 429
East Washington. Phone 2643. Sun
day school at 10 a. m. Preaching at
11 a. m. and C p. m. B. Y. P. U. at
6:30 p. m. Prayer meeting Wednes
day evening. Bible study every Sun
day at 3 p. m.
Grace Baptist Churcn
822 South Montezuma avenue. J. H.
Jones, minister. Sunday school at 10
a. m. Preaching at 11 a. m. and 7:30
p. m. Everybody come—praying
Church of God in Christ
Corner Fourteenth street and Madi
son. Elder L. L. Britton, pastor.
Residence, 1443 East Jefferson. Sun
day school at 10 a. m. Preaching at
11 a. m. and 7:30 p. m. Services also
are held on Tuesday and Friday
nights of each week, beginning at
7:30 o’clock.
You may be discouraged over the
poultry industry, but depend upon the
chickens keeping the wolf from the
door if you will properly attend to
them.
CROSS CUT
(Continued from last issue)
“It —It wasn’t a man. It —It was a
I boy, just nbout fifteen years old.”
j “Sure?”
1 “Oh, yes—” Fairchild was swim
ming In deep water now. “I got a
good look at him. He —he took that
road ofT to the left.”
It was the opposite one to which
tiie hurrying fugitive in whipcord had
taken. There was doubt In the inter
rogator's eyes.
“Sure of that?" he queried. “I’m
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 for n second down there
by the turn.” «.
. ‘Tr ib bly bint, all right.” The voice
came from the tonneau. “Maybe lie
figured to give us the slip and get
back to Denver.”
“Let’s go 1" The sheriff was press
ing a foot on the accelerator. Down
the hill went the car. to skid, then to
make a short turn on to the road
which led away front 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!
CHAPTER IV
Wonderment which got nowhere.
The sheriffs oar returned before Fair
t-liild reached the bottom of the grade,
slid again stopped to survey the scene
of defeat.
“Dangerous character?” Fairchild
hardly knew why he asked the ques
"ion. 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 the Smelter company—so when"
tin' car went through Golden, 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 be turned on the juice!
I thought that thing was a jack rabbit,
the way It went up the hill! I guess
it’s us hack 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
hud come to a full stop behind him,
and a driver mingled a shout with the
looting of his horn, that he turned to
allow its passage.
“Didn’t hear you, old man,” he apol
ogized “Could you give a fellow a
lift?”
“Guess so.” It was friendly, even
though a bit disgruntled; “hop on.”
And Fairchild hopped, once more to
sit on the tailboard, swinging hts legs,
but this time his 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
lime to elude a pursuing sheriff. Some
way, It all didn’t blend. If she liadn t
ommltted 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 n moment of explanation have sat
isfied anyone of the fact?
It was too much for anyone, and
Fairchild knew It. Yet he clung grim
ly to the mystery as 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?”
“Ohadi.”
“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 a bit—at least in silver."
“Thanks. Do you know a good place
to stop?”
“Yeh. Mother Howard’s boarding
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 mining was mining!”
Fairchild lifted his bag from the
rear of ,the vehicle, waved a 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 the
little valley with Its chattering, milk
white stream, softening the scars of
the mountains with their great refuse
dumps; reminders of hopes of twenty
years before and as bare 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 fluffier, 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 here that Thornton
Fairchild, back in the nineties, had
dreamed his dreams and fought his
fight. A sudden cramping caught the
son’s 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 the 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 I
It come upon his father? How could j
It be fought? He brushed away the j
beady perspiration with a gesture al- l
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,
who stared at him with wide-open
eyes as she stood, hands on hips, be
fore him.
“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 live. Ain’t
you, now?” she persisted, “ain't you a
Fairchild?”
The man laughed In spite of him
self. “You guessed it.”
1 “You’re Thornton Fairchild's boy!”
j She had reached out for his handbag,
j and then, bustling about him, drew
j him Into the big “parlor.” "Didn't I
know you the minute I saw you?
Land, 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 as he stood before lier.
“He’s—lie’s gone, Mrs. Howard.”
“Dead?" She put up both hands.
“It don’t seem possible. And me re
“He’s—He’s Gone, Mrs. Howard."
I membering him looking just like you.
full of life and strong and—”
| “Our pictures of him are a good deal
j different. X —l guess you knew him
I when everything was all right for him.
] Things were different after he got
j borne again.”
Mother Howard looked quickly
j nbout her, then with a swift motion
. closed the door.
1 “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—”
“Well, there wasn’t any need to.”
But Mother Howard’s sudden embar
rassment, her change of color, told
Fairchild It wasn’t the truth. “He just
had a little bad luck out here, that
was all. His—his 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
! tlier’s death had thrown him to per-
J mit clearness of vision. Even in
j Mother Howard he had not been able
| to escape it; she told all too plainly,
both by her actions and her words.
| that she knew something of the mys
tery of the past—and had falsified to
] keep the knowledge from him.
It was too galling for thought. Rob-
I ert Fairchild hastily made his toilet,
; then answered the ringing of the din
i ner bell, to be Introduced to strong
shouldered men who gathered about
j the long tables; Cornishmen, who
talked an “h-less” language, ruddy
; faced Americans, and a sprinkling of
j English, all of whom conversed about
things which were to Fairchild as so
I much Greek—of “levels” and “stopes”
| and "winzes,” of “skips” and “man
! ways” and “rises,” which meant noth
| ing to the man who yet must master
I them all, if he were to follow his am
j bltion.
Robert Fairchild spoke but seldom,
except to acknowledge the introduc
| tions as Mother Howard made him
: known to each of his table mates. But
J it was not aloofness; from the first,
the newcomer had liked the men
j about him, liked the ruggedness, the
j mingling of culture with the lack of
; It, liked the enthusiasm, the muscle
and brawn, liked them all—all but 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 the big dining .room,
older than the other occupants, far
less inviting In appearance. One was
; small, though chunky in build, with
i sandy hair and eyebrows; with weak,
j filmy blue eyes over which the lids
* blinked constantly. The other, black
PAGE THREE
hatred with streaks of gray, powerful
In his build, and with a walrus-like
mustache drooping over hard lips, was
the sort of antithesis naturally- to be
found in the company of the smaller,
sandy complexioned man. Who they
were, what they were, Fairchild did
not know, except from the general
j attributes which told that they too fol
-1 lowed the great gamble of mining. But
I one thing was certain; they watched
him throughout the meal; they talked
about him 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
1 meal, they rose and left the room, In
tent, 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 had he 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 tell 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.”
v “Or the people you’re liable to have
to buck up against?"
“Very little."
“Then, Son," and Mother Howard
laid a kindly hand on his 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 Bllndeye
Bozeman and Taylor Bill, lie your
head off. Maybe you saw ’em, a sandy
haired fellow and a big man with a
black mustache, sitting at the back
of the room?” Fairchild nodded.
“Well, stay away from them. They
belong to ‘Squint’ Rodalne. Know
hint?”
She shot the question sharply.
Again Fairchild nodded.
“I’ve heard the name. Who Is he?"
A voice called to Mother Howard
from 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!"
Then, leaving Fairchild staring after
her, she moved on to her duties In
the kitchen.
CHAPTER V
Impatiently Fairchild awaited Moth
er Howard’s return, and when at last
she came forth from the kitchen, he
drew her Into the old parlor, shadowy
now In the gathering dusk, and closed
the doors.
“Mrs. Howard,” he began, “I—”
“Mother Howard,” she corrected. “I
ain’t used to being called much else."
“Mother, then—although I’m not
very accustomed to using the title.
My own mother died—shortly after
my father came back from out here.”
She walked to his side then and put
a hand on his shoulders. For a mo
ment It seemed that her lips were
struggling to repress something which
strove to pass them, something locked
behind them for years. Then the old
face, dim in the half light, calmed.
“What do you want to know, Son?"
“Everything!”
“But there Isn’t much I can tell.” 1
He caught her hand.
“There Is I I know there is. I—"
“Son —all I can do Is to make mat
ters worse. If I knew anything that
would help you—ls I could give you
any light on anything, Old Mother
Howard would do It! Lord, didn’t I
help out your father when he needed
it the worst way? But I’m as much
in the dark as you. All that I ever
knew was that your father came to
this boarding house when he was a
young man, the very first day that he
ever struck Ohadi. He didn’t have
much money, but he was enthusiastic
—and It wasn’t long before he'd told
me about his wife and baby back In
Indianapolis and how he’d like to win
out for their sake. As for me—well,
they always called me Mother How
ard, even when I was a young thing,
sort of setting my cap for every good
looking young man that came along.
I guess that’s why I never caught one
of ’em —I always Insisted on darning
their socks and looking after all their
troubles for ’em instead of going out
buggy-riding with some other fellow
and making ’em jealous.” She sighed
ever so slightly, then chuckled. “But
that ain’t getting to the point,
though, Is It?”
"If you could tell me about my fa
ther—”
“I’m going to—all I know. Things
were a lot different out here then
from what they were later. Every
where around the hills and gulches
you could see prospectors, with their
gads and little picks, fooling around
like life didn’t mean anything In the
1 world to ’em, except to grub around
j In those rocks.
“Your father was one of these men.
■Squint' Rodalne was another—they
called him that because at some time
In his life he’d tried to shoot faster
than the other fellow—and didn’t do
it. The bullet hit right between his
eyes, but it must have had poor pow
der behind it—all it did was to cut
through the skin and go straight up
his forehead. When the wound healed,
the scar drew his eyes close together,
like a Chinaman’s. You never see
Squint’s eyes more than half open.
“And h£s crooked, Just like his
I
(To be continued)