The Saturday Evening Post 1919-11-29: Vol 192 Iss 22

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URDAY IGST s %y * % % , a Se ) ae & ‘eS = 3 ks oo ag Be . z= | ~ ° Mt, as _— J ata Oe , a aoe” DB AN ee me ~. eal ene ea we ; + sngian eae ; s. el Rr 8 ges es pee: “a og axial sane f as i. r THAN HS GIVING

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— — —- — SSS Ee ee, a es one tei, hanksgiving Breakfast would be as cheerless without ‘Cena of Wheat as the dinner would be without a Turkey \ Cream of Wheat \ FOR SALE AT ALL GROCERS y. . ‘. s CREAM OF WHEAT CO. ~ MINNEAPOLIS > a» Ry

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e ~~ ee ~ ~ sea Rae a _ eee ™ ee a nile Waterbury Radiolite A jeweled Inge i that ‘ time in tne dark—$6.25 Reliance 7- wir THE SATURDAY EVENING POST \ ~ +) —, ™~ S lan 1 In Lilcagenimnmiande geld-plled at heep-a HERE’S no gift like a watch, nothing used so much, consulted so often, carried so long. The Ingersoll you give now will be ticking Christmas Greetings next July—next September, and so on through the years to come. In Canada$ 5 $73.50 Radiolite Two-ln-One The Rad 1 — $3.50 There are fifteen different Ingersoll models from which to choose, including jeweled watches and the famous Radiolites that tell time in the dark Gift Suggestions For the COLLEGE GIRL For the FARMER For the MAN WHO Dors Stores located near the fan rls’ Af tcl tck HEAVY WORK colleges dc hing busir | for Ing t Wh t give an | | . " : | , I jealer will sh | I 1 Ing $ the | r s Wrist watch | ] H LR | oO ” Midg i] For the Boy I SK ‘ } “ i ; Two-In-O 2 a W t - R $ ! watch, $ ( ’ | ‘ R WESERES BE ERE FEES For the TEACHER ; , or the SALESMAN For the HOUSEKEEPER Two-In- red at tl : st The Ra I In-O f ( t € K, ar M l in the kite I I nt rahi ‘ For the SPORTSMAN For the MoToRIS1 For the NURSI AR f G \ ; AW: atch tha me int Phet K dark—the Ingersoll Midget Wrist B R I Radiolite—a useful gift. 3 . P ! : $ ' Rost. H. Incersoitt & Bro N a,

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~ N THE SATURDAY EVENING POST November 29, /9/9 HOLEPRoF HoSIERY - HEREVER worn, on the ice as on the dance floor, Holeproof hose add an air of fashionable elegance. The brilliant beauty of | loleproof is as desirable for occa-~- sionsof social importanceas its famous wearing qualities are desirable for the strain of sports or everyday wear. ' HOLEPROOF HOSIERY COMPANY Milwaukee, Wisconsin Holeproof Hosier on v Company of Canada imitec London, Ont.; 50 York St., Sydney, Australia

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—— SS or Se ee —_— 2 A te rt ee LT a ete resist Published Weekly rhe Curis tubishins THE SATURDAY Company Cyrus H. HK. Curtis, President C. H. Ludington; Vice-President and Treasurer | P. S. Collins, General Business Monager Wolter D. Fuller, Secretary William Boyd, Advertising Director Independence Squere, Philadelphia Founded AD! 1728 by Benj. Fran klin London: 6, Henrietta Street Covent Garden, W. C Copyright, 1919, by the Curtis Publishing Company in the United States and Great Britain Volume /92 George Horace Lorimer EDITOR Churchill Williams, F. 8. Bigelow A.W. Neall, Arthur McNeogh, H. D. Walker, E. Dinsmore Associate Editors Walter H. Dower, Art Editor Entered as Second-Class Matter, November 1% php ey etd PHILADELPHIA, NOVEMBER 29, 1919 $2.00 1879, at the Post Office at Philedelphie Under the Act of March 3, 1879 Entered as Second-Class Matter at the Post-Office Department, Ottawa, Canada a ane Number 22 by Subscription WESTON TAYLOR IBNG PIEOPLIE By Henry Sydnor Harrison R. WOLLASTON took some time to read the papers. The emissary from the Navy De- partment sat by the window looking down into the littered and lamp-lit street. Her complete immobility sug- gested a certain tension, proper enough: in an underling awaiting a verdict of moment from supreme authority. But the inference was deceitful; the emissary had forgot- ten the papers, forgotten the great Board Chief altogether; and her thoughts, which had been tinged all day with bitterness and with a curi- ous excitement, too, were a thou- sand leagues away. To this office she had first come literally as a messenger. Her instruc- tions that day did not even include waiting for an answer. But the waters of much experience, much resolute labor, had flowed under the bridge since then. On the bureau roster of a year ago this girl’s name had appeared—extremely near the bottom—as “F. E. Hardy, landsman for yeoman,” a title whose strange technical mysteriousness had in the beginning stirred and elated her. Now the blue sleeve of her smart uniform bore the rating marks, ob- viously new, of aC. P.O. By faith and works the greenest of the ama- teur stenographers had made her- self, morally speaking, the personal assistant of the division head, though for obscure reasons possibly con- nected with sex antagonism— Lieu- tenant Charles still let the title rest with Ensign Frothingham, who, as Yeoman Patrick once disrespectfully observed, ‘‘wouldn’t know a North- ern neutral if one bit him on the ankle.’”’ Such inhibitions meant nothing to George Wollaston of the Board, however, who, prizing exact knowledge above rubies, took and applauded it where he found it, re- gardless of badges, ribbons, stars or sexes. The effect was the more agree- able in that Mr. Wollaston, in peace or in war, was a personage, beyond ensigns and lieutenants. A strik- ingly successful man of busines he was a rubber manufacturer from Ohio and made money by the dray- ful, Mr. Charles said—here, in his sabbatical year of service, he had easily taken place as one of the most interesting and commanding figures in dollar-a-year Washington. But for a long time now he had been treating this girl, who came increas- ingly often to his office for respon- sible consultations, quite like an equal, and she was at home in the “I Adore Missing the First Few Acts,"’ Noted Ethel as They Rose august presence. It was five-thirty o’clock, after hours, and the immense government shack, with its Besides, she had a simple rule in regard to « acres of pasteboard walls and miles of flimsy corridors, was almost empty. Mr. Wollas- distinguished or sedate ton came to the end of the long exposition, shuffled the sheets together, said ‘‘Hm”’ “Thank you, I’m afraid I can’t. But it’s ni and turned back to the beginning again. Chief Yeoman Hardy continued to stare To mitigate the baldness of that she added, down at piles of building débris, sparsely dotted with red lanterns, The quiet had be- allow myself only half an hour for lunch. We come like solitude, and she had had neither solitude nor quiet before, that busy day. _ than ever since the armistice, it seem Her gloved fingers touched her breast, and beneath tunic and blouse, close to her heart, she could feel the square of folded paper round which her secret and essential thought had continually fluttered, hile head and hands were occupied far otherwise The paper was a message, from a long way off, a immons completely personal. She had looked at it but once when she found it lying face-up in her “In coming’ basket a that morning but the words, fe and simple, were well remembered Sailing Bordeaux Transylvan a hird. Expect leave on ar ) rival. Can you meet me New Yor twenty-t RUSSELL. And now, as she sat officially, with expre ionless face, her mind was a jumble of acute hidden feelir rare nervous anxieties, of cated, general but profound resent ' ¢ i ments, and above all of passi pride in the sender of the summons, S$ and his service who by “ stood so neé wly upon a pe lestal, a nimbus about his brow. “I suppose you wrote this said Mr. Wollaston suddenly The girl’s head turned. Atten- tiveness and intelligence swam in stantly into her eyes, but she did not Jump or start “Yes. Of course, ant Charles’ direction ‘It goes pretty far “Our position is that American business is entitled to that muct relief at least~—and the sooner th better.”’ “That’s the ar By the way, my band are here N Colonel and Mrs. Burley. I'm ha ing a few people to lunch with ther to-morrow at the Shoreham. Will you come?” 1? At another moment, be . prise, the girl n t have ‘ tered at so unprecedented a mar { esteem Renown ipart, it happened that she per ' ] idi iM Wollaston ne even fe ed | 1 little b the kr ledye 1 ma meetings she ed hir uch But now, looking directly at him } pI pe i} ¢ ‘ } eemed princy a that the blight was upon t ti ne diighnt that for 4 pa nad see ed to lis so hea pon the ntented g officers and yeome vith whom her da ent men me a business way, however

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4 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST ‘Too bad. I'm really sorry,” said Mr. Wollaston. “My ister’s a very nice woman— not a bit like me.” His eyes, which had one day made her think of a granite wall round an institution—it was the occasion when she had learned to fear him a little—dropped to the papers. However, he raised them at once and said without any change of expression You seem a little distrait to-day. Am I right?” “Distrait? I wasn’t conscious of seeming so. May I apologize? “In fact the thought crossed my mind the last time you were here — Monday; wasn’t it? I hope 4 teally this is unpardonable of me. Is Mr. Charles to he told that I’m not proving satisfactory as his repre- entative’?’”’ Disregarding this feminism, the man said straight- May I ask if there’s anything wrong?” truck with the evidence of-an insight, a sym- which in other directions had sometimes But a light showed in her eyes. However, an anal- You might forwardly, * She was pathy even, eemed to her wanting “Ve everything! is of my sentiments would bore you, I fear I will confess. even think it womanly!” Hier deceptive vivacity faded a little, despite he rself, as he added: “‘A man just told me that he had had the hap- piest year of his life-—here in Washington.” Mr. Wollaston leaned back a little, with a stare. He was thirteen years older than she and possibly considered that he knew five times as much ‘Am I to understand that you're against people’s being happy? “Well, L wonder at it, under the circumstances, And that explains me in a way too— briefly. For the more people there are who feel perfectly happy these days the more it appears necessary for others to feel though not neces- arily to seem— what you cal! distrait. You agree?” “ How can I agree — when | don’t understand a little bit? You are absolutely too subtie The girl smiled. She was dark, with a colorless skin, and her face in repose looked overserious. But Ensign Dawson, who wrote verse in secret, had likened the effect of her smile to “flinging ope a stained- glass window giving on a golden garden.” He had tried over many versions of the concept in his fancy, but this may be accepted as on the whole his final text The present amile, however, was a feat of character; it was transient and it was not pacific. “I thought I was childlike in my simplicity. Of course I spoke of the obligation—in honor, if you like, for it’s a common cause from those who give nothing to those who give everything.” “The obligation? To do what “Naturally, to share in their giv- ing, in their suicidal generosity —in the only way we can. Through the understanding —-through the feelings.”’ “But what good does that do?” "Good?" “Really, does it help anybody or anything to spend time and energies in lamenting — sentimentalizing per- haps—the unescapable sufferings of war? For that’s what I understand you to say? Don't we who stay at home in fact help the sufferers more 9 ? by plugging to keep the world going by trying to lay hold of some positive good in the mess—and somehow being happy if we can?” Her instant feeling was that in that rationalism, harder than a stone and with the fatal smoothness of convenience, the captain of industry had written his own epitaph. Even Lieutenant Charles had his moments when he brandished a slender fist and classically damned the Germans The pause was long enough for one to count ten, The petty officer said with quick- ening breath ‘Il spoke of it as an obligation. That isn't right of course, It’s an instinctive re- sponse. People either feel it or they don't feel it. But of course one gets in the habit of judging people by what they feel or fail to feel under acid tests like this." Having let fall another pause, she re- sumed in a measured way: “If I seem abstracted to-day there’s a coincidence to account for it perhaps. A few hours before this man told me how happy he was-——he’s a young man, with all his faculties, doing work as tame as a girl’'s—I heard that one of our best friends, a soldier, was sailing for home this week. He belongs with another class, with those who've given everything—suffered everything. I'm proud of him, I adore him for what he’s done and I —shrink from seeing him,” If the Board Chief's gaze now clearly questioned her she was not aware of it, needing no more prompting. Conceivably, since she was a woman, the simple desire to talk about what lay close to her heart was not wholly wanting. Beyond that she was driven by a conscious longing to shake this ease, to pierce this man with a hurting knowledge of those vicarious tragedies which seemed to her latterly to people the world. “I’m not thinking of his wounds particularly—though as a matter of fact he was wounded twice. Once, the first with the bayonet. And then in the Argonne he got three machine-gun bullets in his knee, cleaning out some German nests. He got a citation for that—and was retired. That's why they're letting him come home so soon— they've lamed him. But wounds to the body don’t matter so much, do you think? At least they speak for themselves, so the dullest understand. I’ve been thinking so much lately of those—those deeper hurts which people hardly notice and never praise, of the men who have given us, not their lives but in some way them- selves—who have felt everything so intensely that they can never have much interest in anything again. I’ve known several —rather bad cases lately. But perhaps this does bore you, after all. Perhaps I’m keeping ——” “You do not bore me you're not keeping me. I assure you I’m very much interested. Please go on.” Pressing her hand against her breast, where her cable- gram lay, the girl spoke movingly—to herself at least —of a friend of hers in Caledonia, Henry Risdale, the promising and once ambitious, who had come home in September with only a finger or two missing, very brown and husky look- ing, but whom no cajolery or ingenuity had shaken so-far in his strange voiceless depression. And then she sketched Major Gunther, who had been meant for a poet and looked so eerily handsome with his suddenly white hair, and who after three months’ rocking in a wicker chair on the back porch at home had blown out his brains while the bells were ringing on November eleventh. She had meant to speak of her brother Frederick, who had just returned “entirely recovered” from a touch of shock, loquacious and very fat, and taken instantly to public lectures and drink. But she found she couldn’t bear to speak of Frederick. She let her case rest. “I've been thinking that men like these are the true tragic heroes of the war. They are heroes be- cause they’ve ruined them- selves to save the rest of us. They are tragic because the ways in which they’ve ruined themselves are terrible—ob- secure, unhonored and soon forgotten. Well, I don’t mean to forget them. That’s the sum of what I am trying to say. I refuse to regard such suffering as a philosophic ab- stract. And I'd de- spise myself if I pre- tended that if meant or could mean any kind of positive good,” She continued to look down at her interlocked slim hands, disclaiming any excitement, de- nying by her pose that she had said anything special, or pointed, or,per- sonal. Mr. Wollas- ton’s face, strongly and saliently cut under crisp dark hair, wore a thoughtful look. He took her up sympathetically enough: “And this other friend . you mentioned, who's just coming home—you've \ some reason to think that apart from his wounds he has suffered in less repara- ble -” ** Letters show very little of course. I'll know when I see him. But I'll tell you one reason I’m afraid of that: It would be such perfect poetic justice.” “For os “For me. Oh, I don’t mean that I ever held the purely heroic view of war—the fife and drum view. I wasn’t so silly even then, and that was just at the beginning. He was the first man in our town to go. But I did think,” said the girl resolutely, over a mounting inner disturbance—‘“I did time, at Soissons “I'll Meet You Here on the Sidewatk at One o'Clock. Do You Know, I Think You're Doing a Very Nice Thing"’ November 29, 19/9 feel that the experience might be—be good for him. Think! And that’s hardly eighteen months ago. I’ve known him ever since I was born, you see. We—our family—-are all devoted to him. And still I’ve always criticized him—nagged at him—in one foolish way. I thought he took life too lightly. I thought he was too pleasure-loving—too easy-going. I wanted him to be seri- ous and settled—and old. I was lecturing him up to the minute he went away.” She stopped short, and as clearly as in a moving picture she saw her shaded porch in Caledonia that sultry Sep- tember afternoon last year when Lieutenant March—as he then was—had come to say good-by. There he sat in the old canvas swing, brave and handsome in his new trappings, telling with endearing boyishness of the new friends he had made at the O. T. C., of the farewell dinner and ball at the hotel in Indianapolis. He had been in love with her since she was sixteen, had twenty times asked her to marry him. And now he was going away, launch- ing upon the heroic service which, as it gradually unrolled itself, was to raise him so high in her imagination. She knew she was not to see him again. And still, even then, her mind pursued him, running like a common scold at his smiling ways, his young expressions. A thousand times she had remembered, with humiliation, saying to him under the shadow of that parting: ‘‘Why must you always trip the light fantastic, Russell? Can’t you ever just dance?” Ah, what wouldn’t she give to hear him say that now with the old jolly laugh! “T can understand your feelings, I think,”” Mr. Wollas- ton’s calm voice was heard to say. ‘But after all this is just a feeling as yet, isn’t it—rather than anything con- crete? Mayn’t we hope that these—quite natural anxieties will prove unfounded in this case? I ra That recalled her quickly enough. From him upon her present mood the speech resounded like the willful depreci- ation of a hero. Now it was as if she were determined that her warrior should have suffered to the nethermost, for the shame and confusion of all safe stay-at-homes. “That part is mere feeling, if you wish. But I have another reason, more logical perhaps. It is this: In times of common risk the best give the most. It takes a fine soul to feel things enough to disintegrate—and our friend has proved himself that sort. And since I judge everybody now by what the war has meant to them, I place at the other end of the scale—the bottom end—those who have gone through it without being affected at all and, in fact, have kept happy. I am angry when I think of them.” Mr. Wollaston’s rejoinder to this broad summary was partly circumvented. The door of his office had abruptly opened and a Board messenger stood revealed upon the threshold, a freckled and youthful courier on roller skates, a friendly lad and a stranger to self-doubt. “Well, boy?” “Ts that Miss Hardy there? Well, Lieutenant Charles says to come back to the office as soon as you get through here. Says he’s got work must be got off to-night. Says he’s sorry. I think he said that.” “How did you get the message?” “Didn’t you hear your phone ringin’ and ringin’ in here? Well, I did. So I stops in as I passes and I an- swers it.” Miss Hardy’s heart sank a little. It had been a long day and she was supposediy bound for “home” and rest. Be- yond that, the turn that this official interview had taken left her deeply unsettled. But she seemed ready to end it now. She had risen at once, and as the lad rolled away down the thin echoing corridor she spoke impersonally, in the recovered voice of the emissary: “About the memorandum? What may I tell Mr. Charles?” The Board Chief, standing, picked up her papers, laid them down again and frowned briefly at the green dome of his desk light. “It’s a first-rate statement. Tell him I approve—I approve. I'll handle it at the board meeting on Friday.” “He will be glad. I know this matter has worried him a good deal.” But Mr. Wollaston had his say, his last word, after all Courteously walking with her, he opened his door for her; and having opened it, he halted large and firm upon the sill, the knob retained by a strong hand. So confronting his girlish colleague, he looked down at her with undis- turbed friendliness and said in quite a soothing way: “Won't you allow me to say that at least it never helps to cross bridges before we come to them? May it not be that your friend has—after all—got out of his experiences exactly those benefits you wished for him? Who knows, as you say? And in that case, if you will pardon me, I think I might still claim a positive good—for everybody con- cerned.” “Your optimism is beautiful,”’ said the petty officer. She went away frustrated and angry. Her resolve was that this subject should be discussed again with the evidence in; and she anticipated producing then facts concrete enough to shatter this complacency forever. : 4 i] ! ; ' 4 ~

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i —t———— t.. x THE SATURDAY The late re- turn to the of fice had this compensa tion—that it gave op- portunity for a private word with her chief, a rare thing in these days. Lieutenant Charles greeted her gladly for him. He wasa tall pale young man with a button of a nose, large ears as white as lilies il man- and an elaborate, satir ner which nowadays practically never deserted him He was , twenty-nine Id, had a wife who was independent of him—a little too much so, by report —and ambitious above wars and rumors of wars. Moreover, he had a will like a , ‘ult rod of steel and ran with great success the most dif division in that sufficiently difficult dep At twenty minutes p away toward a cherished engagement, his assistant morally peaking aid in controlled tones: ‘I'll type this out then and sign it for you and get it off by messenger before I go. And, by the way, I'd like to have artment. ast seven, when he was dashing leave about the fifth of January Lieutenant ¢ arie rested in midair, as it were eaping into his overcoat, stood ar- He blinked at her out of china- blue eyes which looked weak but saw everything, and the tunning imperturbability on which he prided himself for a moment threatened to crack. However, he only said in quiets tL voice ‘How long did you think you’d want The as tal { perhap ‘TI can’ 6) ifrostier calm than she felt Probably only a day possibly longer ask for three di ys understanding that I should be charged with that time, gh I’d use only Tush and again tush! Why, thou when was I found among the cheese parer The only little point in the thing 1S, why not postpone the happy holiday for, say, a couple of weeks? ‘I’m sort In this case I have to make my plans to meet the—the movements of other The pale young man’s character smile took or signifi- cance ‘I make no doubt it’s a m—” he began, but changed his mind cleverly and concluded—‘“‘ matter of importance one sald distant ‘Otherwise naturally I shouldn’t think of onvenier — ” . ore, Miss Hardy, speak no more! You and you've been here a year. Of course ndicates what an important ses that your leans or like a crut I can’t get ng without you—and I'll put through the papers to- morrow. Good night!’ He fled to his pleasure Chief Yeoman Hardy, left alone with plenty of work to do, sat staring for at least a minute at the point where he had disappeared from view. Her expression as she so gazed was hardly one that a man ees gladly it | expense— on tne face of a charming girl. But then Lieutenant Charles, having blithely dropped and blithely forgotten his remark about being so happy this vear. could scarcely have beer expected to believe that that look was worn for him VEe@K the girl’s mind moved amor g nervou various and subtle, not all of which by any been disclosed to Mr. Wollaston. Within five e remeeting the last of the secret anxieties L t of them—faded and vanished. The first swing of the pendulum was far indeed. At lunch the wors time on the red-letter day, looking and looking over the ior come home, she was conscious of think- ing that these hours must stand as the happiest time of her life. The war, which overthrew empires and set off gigantic cataclysms, had silently reached out in remoter ways, touching in obscure details the lives and customs of people of no importance. This girl from the provinces, typically and conventionally bred, had struck work and taken a night’s journey in an upper berth to meet a young man at his convenience in a strange hotel. Two years ago—evena year ago—this would have seemed to her an inconceivable EVENING POST again. The tronKe wa wilt, like a need in her heart. He I l¢ it him ol tenderness,new in her experience He Had Been in Love With Her Since She Was Sixteen, une lous figrure Had Twenty Times Asked Her to Marry Him i he was, he pped he arn enterprise, Now the supreme naturalness of the proceed- through his, brought her other arm to meet it and, folding ing and the ease of its accomplishment had left her wishing the khaki sleeve against her breast, had briefly touched i only that she had had a harder thing to do for Russell. with a cheek as soft as swan’s-dow Even the practical arrangements, which had promised to ‘Russell —I’m so happy to be wit} be complicated, had worked out with the smoothest sim- The rare tribute had unsteadied the tall captair She plicity. The shipping man at the office supplied the most thought he meant to take her in his arm And probal reliable information; she had learned toa minute when the — that had been his novel aspiratio ip to the instant wher Transylvania was to dock; her telegram from Washington both became aware of the eye of the librarian, intensely re had reached Captain March with marvelous promptness. garding them. But the memory of that moment lingered Before eleven o’clock she had heard his voice on the tele- By now, in her rea iIrance ne wa ilmo ready t phone; before twelve he was with her. draw Russell out a little, to hear from his own lips some At once her mind, so joyfully released from its hidden thing of his experience and his exploit But the fashio burden, could begin the eager exploration of thereacquaint- able restaurant manifestly was not the background f ance; and the first all-important observation was followed serious talk. If the girl could have wished for a quieter by hosts of others, supplementary and divers, as an author nook she was more than compensated by he Idier’s ca will jot down footnotes to qualify his finished text. did satisfaction in his choice; it was clear that he basked They had met in the library of the great hotel in which th itmosphere, this agreeable 1 expensive scene she had rented a cubicle upon the twenty-second floor. Having ordered an excellent lunch, which he selected wit Here again fortune smiled upon them. Forcompanyinthe unexpected skill, he thrust a bill into the palm of his f dim odd trysting place they had only the librarian, who ld and fond of kni » with « brow: le beside her was old and fond of knitting, with a brown mole beside her nose and a small Christian smile, and one yet older lady, y upon a distant sole patron of the books, who sle pt heavy il sofa, her fingers clasping a large green volume called How to Develop the Me mory Behind the shelter of a project- ing book stack the young people had found seclusion like the privacy of home. And the minutes flew in talk of those little things, personal and impersonal, which seem always to come first into people’s minds in times like that, leaving them to marvel afterward what possessed them to waste opportunity so riotously. Russell was changed of course. He was marked with the symbols of his gallant sacrifice. Most conspicuous was his lameness, which was worse than she had anticipated and which— he mentioned in the most casual debonair way con- ceivable—was likely to be permanent. of the soldier, his changed aspect and bearing, carried the Sut the whole look unmistakable souvenirs of service. The handsome face, still bronzed despite the weeks 10% pital and thinner thi she had last seen it, had notic eably age d, There were new lines about the once boyish mouth. In repose his expre sion looked to her, in the first sight of it, decidedly sobered; at least it was visibly settled. And in his movements and his manner, too, in hardly definable ways, she seemed to be aware of corresponding changes—less sprightliness per- haps, but more maturity, increased poise, the new author ity of the ruler of men. But—she was positive from the beginning —there was no sign here of those profounder changes ist such as had so moved and shocked her in William Gunther and her poor brother Frederick, Captain March "leave. He was in luck at that, said. It developed that he had planned to the last detail how the brief holiday should be spent. No sooner had they met and greeted —or so it seemed to her than it was time to rush on for luncheon. Actually the fore handed young man had a table engaged, through the office of his friend Captain Jasper. Their talk had been so happily normal, her relief so powerful and uplifting, that the soldier’s pur physical disability had literally passed from memory. They had sprung up from the cushioned settle between the stacks chattering like two excited children. Once again he—the twice promoted, with the ribbon on his breast—had cried out proudly at the becomingness of her uniform. **‘And to beachief too, Fanny! Isimply can’t get over it All was merry. And then as he turned to clutch up cap and stick she was struck suddenly and heavily with what she had forgotten; and the simple thought shot her through that Russell—her Russell, the light-footed — might subtle and sir ter ad twelve hou low captain of the serving staff and demanded speed, a required by his program “We've got exactly one hour, 1 ! I want everything hurried.” He had his w iy; sectior { tl repast began to arrive almost instantly. He attacked them with devastating earnestness. She praised |! liscrimination as a chooser of delicious things from a bewildering assortment, and the look in his remembered eye id peakingly t it her ip probation was tne rewal 1 ne , ete in st ipor eur } Qo hope | nave earned iethiny ( the Pa i Hotel, Caledonia! For one thing —well, I spent three da in Paris last year as the guest of Jo} yn | ling i. If there’s anything Johnson doesn’t know al t what can do I never found him out hat li! J ul “a he a wonderful fe v, Fa | r gt ! it New port thi immer if I car \ w hie t comes t pend ing 1 ‘ ‘ prince —gad, he good as a Lege education! ‘I sh ildn't r r met it paupe exact I’ve a notion, Russell, ar gtoa iction, tl thi ve place fanta i extra yant He Lughed W ngly and q ted a i gy from the Brush, the be none too good for you But wl the best. n le | ts l'o ss oO to ta to to té to t i te mea thousand thing te uu a thou | ba And could Nave that a ell at a lu nter Not , fe! I don’t sa i would id i etting, but I prefer to see iwhe su ab it ” v word best Arn back alte 1 Let { Agreed But to set your mind at re | I ist bursting with it! Got three months’ 7 1} ‘ ha ince to vhat \ t dit { j le ugh w t ping f check the The girl laughed de gnted ‘But you'll need it, Russe 1 et Wi don’t even know yet whether 1 get l p ba rnot! At least 10 you He gave her an animated look ir I I mething exultation warred with something else like surprise ‘My old place! Listen at her! Why, I wouldn't toue} it with a ten-foot pole! Teller in the Caledonia Nationa Bank! Great heaver Fanny! You seem to think I’ve been standing still all this time >» ‘“*But— Russell, what do you mean? Continued on Page 60

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6 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST November 29,1919 y! RLIN was bathed in autumn sun- ISAAIC Jf; MARCOSSON on abandon toany emergency. After four “ light. AsIwa i down Unter den V ° years of overwork and underfeeding this Linden, the main thoroughfare, I unrest is as much pathological as other- felt those mingled emotions that novelists delight to wise. But whatever its origin it is there and growing. write about. Behind me bulked the Brandenburg It is one definite phase of Germany in transition. Gate, its central arch no longer reserved for the If the Actionists, alias the Spartacides, which is exclusive passage of royalty. At the other end of just another name for Bolshevists, plunge the the long avenue e the dome of the ugly sprawly country into another revolution—and it is among palace—once the home of William Hohenzollern the possibilities—it will not only mean anarchy in the walls still pock-marked by the machine-gun Germany but the kindling of a flame that may bullets of the spring revolution sweep England and the Jontinent. Watching the crowd that surged back and forth Remember in this connection that “‘revolution”’ I could not help thinking that these men about me is the glib word on the tongue of misguided uplifter who wore the black-and-white ribbon of the Iron and malcontent everywhere. The brotherhood of Cro no male person in Germany seems to have anarchy knows no geography. Its symbol is just escaped a decoration and who smoked and talked as red in Italy and France as in Germany and Rus- © amiably were perhaps the same steel-helmeted sia. One touch of scarlet makes all the radicals kin. A red Germany might mean an alliance with red Russia. All Europe is on razor edge, and the ad- vent of winter, with a world-wide shortage of fuel and food—and cold and hunger are the first aids to revolt—will not help to dull it. Once the ter- rible tides are loosed, the hordes of hate will only know one cause, and that cause, destruction. As Germany goes these next few months, so will a considerable part of Europe go, politically and economically. oldiers in field gray whose shells I dodged a year ago. Furthermore, I mused, the badly dressed women who drank their coffee and chatted volubly in the many pavement cafés were pos ibly the identical ones who strafed America with every grace before meal Yet, so far as externals were concerned, normal life had apparently been re- umed amid the serenity of this September after noon Suddenly I heard overhead the purr and whir of i Ze ppe lin motor Twelve months before this ume noise in London or Paris was the prelude to Germany a Center of Contagion wift destruction, for it invariably announced that T ALL means that if Germany is wiped out or becomes the plaything of the forces of evil she will come dangerously near being a sort of Samson among the nations, dragging the whole temple of cash and credit down with her. It is one thing to curb her expansion as it should be curbed in the the air raider was abroad. Instinctively | turned to cover Then I realized that the war was over I looked up and saw a giant airship sailing grace fully over Berlin It was the Han burg-American Laine Zeppelit tarting on if triweekly four hundred-mile trip to Friedrichshafen, with passer gers and freight After circling a few times it interests of a permanent peace and as I have often moved off toward the south and was soon lost to pointed out in these columns, but it is a different yht in the gathering twilight and more serious matter to permit a disintegration That Zeppelin did more than give me a surprise that would work hardship in every direction. It showed that Germany, stripped of her shipping This sounds like strong speech, and it is. But it sea, had turned, with peace, to the air to retrieve Maximitian Barden no man can study Europe, and for that matter he her lost near-mastery of transportatio More need not leave America, without discovering that than this, it demonstrated that the defeated and discred- Automatically, and largely because of her former eco- this strike-mad world of ours to-day has not, for the time ited Fatherland will capitalize every last word in science nomic prestige, Germany still holds an uncanny balance of at least, been made a better place to live in, despite the ind invention in the effort to achieve a rehabilitation power, which if unconserved may yet bring widespread welter of blood and sacrifice that began in 1914. fraught with supreme significance for the whole world. disaster and nullify the costly fruits of Allied victory. In Germany’s political collapse under a reign of terror What is true of aviation will be true of mar other activi other words, Germany, nemesis of peace before the war, would upset a large part of the European scheme of recon- ties, once the nation has struck its stride. Forthe moment remains a death’s-head to economic security now that the struction. First, because it would prevent the payment this seems a remote,consummation. The present German war is over. How is this posstble? of the indemnities exacted by her outraged conquerors, hour is dark with a despair that is developing into a If you dispassionately analyze Europe as it is to-day which are essential to French and Belgian development; menace to international recovery you soon find out. Here are the facts: It is exactly a year second, because she is still technically the spinal cord that Why is Germar plight of such universal importance? — since the armistice was signed, and peace remains as much I have described. With or without her departed trade In the answer lies a revelation of conditions as tangled a will-o’-the-wisp as in the dark days of 1917. The only authority she is unfortunately indispensable to the larger and troubled as ever the war itself disclosed. It would be difference, in a larger sense, is that the Allies and the Cen- prosperity. She is so intimately bound up in the com- difficult to find the parallel in all history tral Powers no longer hurl shot and shell at each other. mercial fortunes of her neighbors that bankruptcy and The poison gas of the battlefield has been succeeded by a worse for her mean dislocation of the Entente business A Menacing Balance of Power deadly distrust and a more destructive inaction that are machine, now in such sad need of renewal and lubrication. tifling initiative and sterilizing real recovery. I found convincing evidence of this in the crowd of To VISUALIZE this unprecedented situation and to un- Following the colossal energy that swept the war to its British, French and Belgian commercial travelers that I derstand fully the wholly unexpected influence that Ger- titanic proportions is a supineness that has become epi- met throughout Germany and more especially in the occu- many wields even in her travail we must go back abit. For demic. No nation is immune from this plague of idleness, pied area, who were in hot competition to resume economic ; at least fifteen years before that fateful August of 1914 she and Germany, once the stronghold of thrift and industry, relations with the Germans. i tood up erect and strong, an arrogant empire of blood and — has joined the slackers. Belgium is the only country in If the Germany that murdered the Lusitania, sank the iron. Her trade, her science, her resource, her vast and Europe that has really settled down to business. Britannic, shot Edith Cavell, ravaged Belgium and made ; compelling desires. conjured up fear. She beat the big But Germany has gone her enemies one better. She has the whole conduct of war a rebuke to humanity were an ' drum in the concert of Powers, and though the note was _ tasted of the crimson fruits of revolt, and the virus of dis- isolated entity we should have not the slightest compunc- i} often discordant it rang out above all the rest. Through content has entered her system. Nor is this surprising. tion about her eclipse. One would even be glad to see the her commercial penetration she became the spinal cord of Kept in practical ignorance of the hopelessness of her vultures come home to roost. But the lustful Germany j the economic body of Europe, and contributed in addition national struggle until defeat actually stared her armies that made Europe a shambles happens to be so intimately f much sustenance to the world busine tructure. “What in the face she has developed an indifference that borders related to the universal process of demand and supply } will Germany do next?” was the invariable query that she cannot be eliminated. To put it concretely : As we all know, she did aplenty. She plunged a ; . Germany to-day is like a rotten apple. Isolated on the t civilization, hypnotized with a mistaken sense of s« | shelf she would decompose and cause no damage. But ; curity, into war and for nearly four years dominated this procedure, unhappily, is impossible. Econom- its stupendous drama of deat! Again she held the ically she is in a basket of apples, and her taint, unless calcium remedied at once, is likely to contaminate the whole lot. But war, however long-drawn and hi 3, is at Her importance to-day would never have mani- worst a temporary thing. Thus in time the greatest of fested itself if the rest of the world had turned to peace ill wars ended, whereupon the optimists said: ‘At with a proper frame of mind and the will to work. Just last Germany is eliminated as a factor.”’ | as the war itself smashed all precedent, so has the It was dangerous optimism, for the curious reason aftermath overthrown all calculations. Though dis- that Germany, beaten and severed, remains a force to location follows every conflict nobody expected the be reckoned with in the eternal struggle to live and upset that has followed the war of wars. Along with ibor, which knows neither race, prejudice nor war many others I believed, for example, that Germany, hang-over. Like the battle of business it is a perma | with a tremendous incentive for recovery, would nent thing. Men are not compelled to fight every day, startle the universe with the swiftness of her come- but they must be fed three times a day. The irony of back. But she, like all the rest of the universe, is in- fate now dictates that the one-time bulwark reared by | fected with the discontent that is sapping order and Bismarck out of the humiliation of France emerges ———_—_—__ ——____—- - — frustrating reconstruction everywhere. Instead of from the dust of conflict to confute and embarrass its The Collapse of the Mark is Eloquent Evidence converting the sword into a plowshare Europe has foes and impede the general rehabilitatior of Germany's Decline turned from a war of force to a battle of class more

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST 7 subtle and dangerous. It all operates to enhance the strategic importance of the beaten Germany. In short, Germany must be salvaged if we are going to save Europe, and our stake abroad is now so great that we cannot afford to be an inert bystander in this new crisis. This salvation is possible only through work. A busy nation has no time to think of mischief. Keep a people fed and busy and you likewise keep them out of trouble, pro- vided, of course, they have no military masters itching for war. Fundamentally the German is a worker, but at the time I write he is without the tools with which to labor. The principal tool that Germany lacks to-day is raw material. If I were asked to state the most pressing need on the Continent to-day I should without hesitation say that it is the necessity of starting the flywheel of industry. Production, the unfailing instrument of regeneration, is as essential to Germany as it is to the rest of the world. This production, once stimulated in Germany, will act as a speeder-up for SEVENTH: Conscious of the misdeeds of his soldiers and sailors on land and sea the German, with a psychology peculiarly his own, expects the world with which he fought to forget them with the dawn of peace. EIGHTH: German production is partially paralyzed by reason of insufficient fuel and lack of raw materials. Even the democratization of industry now in process has so far failed to bring the discontented workers back to work, even where work is available. NINTH: Contrary to widespread belief before the war and since Germany has no large accumulated stores of finished or unfinished materials. Thus she is unable to enter upon any extensive dumping campaign. The Ger- mans are shamming about some of their shortages, no- tably with iron and steel. TENTH: The institution of German propaganda is still at work. Its chief object now is to convince visitors to her indemnities and she will come dangerously near bank- ruptcy, more especially if the mark continues to fall. Just as she isshamming with her shortages, so is she exaggerating her financial needs. Every money demand of hers must be haived. FOURTEENTH: Given credits, the miasma into which industry is plunged will vanish. Work —the unfailing antidote for all unrest—will succeed discontent, and Ger- many will surprise the world with her recovery. She has lost none of her skill and efficiency. I doubt if a prosper ous Germany will ever again be a war-mad Germany, not merely because the myth of her invincibility is shattered but because the overhead of defeat is too great to risk again. The nation is sapped. These fourteen points are not based on what Germans told me. The penalty that Germany pays for the crimes of the war is the world’s lack of con- fidence in her utterances. What I the nations now involved in indus- trial turmoil, because it will rob the German agitator of his job. Repose in Germany confutes a red alliance with Russia, and this in turn is the antidote for the unrest that is under- mining all constructive endeavor. At.this point the average man will say: “‘How about the needs of the other European nations, and more especially our Allies and those small and gallant peoples who have passed through darkness to self-determina- tion?” Once more you find the beaten Germany potent even in her down- fall. These little nations and their big brothers as well can have no pros- Stand perity without a real peace, and there can be no real peace until Deutsche Passstelle Coblenz. Liste Nu 3 Ersatz- 6 Reisepass. Z adncbemen ues Reihes. 4 Jiraa # ; Mar trtstn (77 stag 13 of ofa ae {i774 ‘ Kors a walle (Aen ) ( / Phare alco -- Wohnsity le uf Yorh- Staatsangehérigkeit .fucercke weed have just written is the record of what I have seen Before we go into the detailed anal- ysis of the present-day German bal , ance sheet let us first have a look at the country and the people. I thought va that my thrills and surprises had 4 ended with the signing of the Armi- stice, but I was mistaken. The Ger- many that I peacefully invaded pre- sented a series of dramatic situations almost as impressive as any I had faced through the years of the war To begin with, I was no stranger to Germany. those prewar day felt the lure of her opera and cures Far-less pleasant was my vicarious wartime contact. I had looked down into her from Switzerland, gazed at her from across the Dutch frontier, I had known her back in when the world Europe is at work. This peace can- QMlato ‘a not be accomplished by polities, leg- | " .S tne ere die Enuitcht vg (Atetar naan | hls ae beheld her troops across many a islation or revenge. The time has A frdtre on byt shell-swept No Man's Land, Through come for frank talk and this talk y \. a nr (Ht. f, Be all these hazardous years of travel resolves itself into the statement that vem M HNiti—(ma "eed “t Mmeerta Ay if and tumult Germar y to me Was as a American credits for Europe must i hetalisiehiio® sostecbbihlecstns tanh aes kes sa yf rs 1 L “wm Att fod sealed book. Now at last the time mean credits for Germany if we are ym Ft ites / ? ] ¢7? had come when the curtain was pulled ever going to make a start in real { eT wae i ‘ tga ou reins aside, the iron ring broken, and | rebuilding. This implies neither sen- timent nor sympathy. It is plain economic self-preservation. With this statement of the most outstanding feature in present-day Germany we can proceed with our 7 is : Dieser Pass gilt nur in Verbindung mt einen Personalausweis. der die uber einstimmende Untersehrift des Inhabers tragt, und sein Lichtbild enthalt stepped into her confines. Apathy and Depression FTEN during the war I wondered Just what my first experience story. What is happening behind Germany would be | had ridden on those frontiers that were so long an ea Bebtalen seendon an) lon finl nnd Site onl Ante > British troop trains marked “On to almost impenetrable curtain? What Berlin,” had watched our own soldier are the German people thinking and ; laden cars labeled **The Rhine Lin doing? Who are the new leaders? Caterachift des lnhahers Pestscha. Parse ited,” and speculated whether I What is the American interest in the / should cross the great German divid evolution that has followed revolu- lo , with an army of conquest or other tion? > ithe / wise. As a matter of fact I rod I went to Germany to find out. I 4 Ae Reno tiidae ‘ / Germany late at night in an unro visited the occupied, neutral and free , : / o mantic first-class coach from Metz zones. I talked with cabinet min- os os) CCruahnte a JK f° May Cac and it was only with the breaking of isters, soldiers, captains of industry P : dawn that I realized my long dream and plain people. What follows in M4 pitle-te —- Ate id An American bugle woke me out of this and in the succeeding articles Queace a +apwei cae my sleep in a hotel at Coblenz. 1 was gained at first hand at a time os J Vectt oft stepped out of my window to a bal when the long shadow of war had , ’ : cony and saw the Rhine flowing at only lengthened with peace. | COnbleunce A hftacakes (99 my feet. On the footbridge direct! / f + 7 f opposite marched a company of Fourteen Points a Chef a a fer tew eanceceies doughboys, while from the hi ghts of OA 4 Ofshaws a the old fortress of Ehrenbreitste NATION in trouble usually faces 3 across the river the Stars and Strips either a political or an economic Q v/ 4 ” flashed in the sunlight. It was the crisis. Germany has both, and at the } a new Wacht am Rhein! same time. Appraise the situation The Germany that I found on the to-day and these facts stand out: eve of the final ratificat of the —_——- —— _-—__—__—- - -—~ — Peace Treaty late ir September is in FIRST: Germany is not only beaten Mr. Marcosson's German Passport human re pects not much erent but knows and admits it. from the Germany of a year ag SECOND: Things are likely to be worse before they Germany that the country is unable to pay the drastic stunned by the Armistice. No man can visualize the con are better. indemnities and must obtain some modification of the pleteness of the jolt to Germany, however, until he ij TuirD: Her morals are at lowest ebb. Theft and even peace terms, well within the German confines. This is one reason why murder are as common as the discontent throughout the ELEVENTH: Though the utmost friendliness is expressed the world has been fed up with so much misinformatior nation. FourTH: Despite the depreciation of the mark, food and other prices in Germany are low, and the stocks fairly abundant. Only luxury articles are expensive. FirTH: The Kaiser illusion is shattered and there is not the slightest chance that a Hohenzollern will ever return to power. A constitutional monarchy, however, is among the possibilities. S1xTH: Though a large body of intelligent Germans more or less philosophically accept the peace terms a great many people seem to be indifferent to their fate. “Why work for the French?” is their refrain. and displayed toward Americans the man most unpop ular in Germany to-day is President Wilson, who is held personally responsible for what the Germans consider national confiscation. TWELFTH: Germany has had all the war she wants for a long time to come. The great mass of the people feel so beaten, there is such bitter resentment toward militarism, the children are so impoverished from underfeeding, that a long time must elapse before the nation is physically and temperamentally fit again. THIRTEENTH: Unless Germany gets credits with which to purchase raw materials her recovery at the moment seems impossible. In this event she will be unable to pay written in the main by long-distance observers, about Germany’s so-called “victory in defeat.” To be sure, she wields the uncanny influence due to her social unrest and her interrelation with the rest of the economic world whic} I have already described. The great mass of her people, however, are dull with apathy. The smug cocksureness and self-complacency which in the old days irritated every visitor in Germany are gon Once inside the country you get a sense of depression + that almost amounts to listlessness. ‘Thi impressed me deeply the moment I began to talk to Germans, whether in Coblenz, Cologne, Wiesbaden, Frankfort, Dusseldorf or Berlin. (Continued on Page 49)

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TUT THE SATURDAY NID MR. 1

UY EVENING POST TT November 29, /9i9 By Arthur Train ILLUSTRATED BY HENRY RALEIGH

OI i ta i a Site <2 S om ’ LIPO AME Ae

2

‘‘Hotd Up Your Hands, Yout You Do Solemaly Swear That in the Case of The People Against Mock Hen You Willi Tell the Truth, the Whole Truth and Nothing But the Truth" “sae Case Number Nine: Ways That are Dark and the law of the pack 1s the pack Other Sayings of Shere Khan. HALF turn from the clattering hubbub of Chatham Square and you are in Chinatown, slipping, within ten feet, through an invisible wall, from the glitter of the gin palace and the pawnshop to the sinister shadows of irregular streets and blind alleys, where yellow men pad viftly along greasy asphalt beneath windows glinting with ivory, bronze and lacque through which float the scents of aloes and of incense and all the bust Noone better than the Chink himself realizes the commer- cial value of the taboo, the bizarre and the unclean, Nightly the rubber-neck cat ubtle suggestion of the winging ygayly with lanterns stops before the rmitation joss house the spurious opium joint and tortuous passage to the fake far tan and faro game, with a farewell call at Hong Joy Fah’s Oriental restaurant and the well-stocked novelty tore of Wing, Hen & Co. The tors see what they expect to see, for the Chinaman al- ways gives his public exactly what it want But a dollar does not show you Chinatowr lo some the ivories will ilways be but crudely carved bone, the jades the potter's ham, the musk and aloes the product of a soap factory, the joss but a cigar-store Indian, and the Oriental dainti f Hong Fah the scrappings of a Yankee grocery store. Yet " whind the hodd tinsel of Doyers and Pell Streets, as ehind Alice looking-gla there is another Chinatown istrange, inhuman, Oriental world, not necessarily of trap wors and stifled screams, but one moved by influence lreamed of in our banal pl ilosopt ie Hlearken then to the tory of the ivenging of Wah Sing l U ‘ ‘ doubtedly rie i of the Emperor Hwang In the n cellar of a Pell Street tenement seventeen (1 ine at ere legged in a circle round an octagor al teakwood tabl lo an Occidental they would have ap peared to differ no detail except that of a varying degree ot fatness Ar the place reeked with the imp flickered before a joss near by, and odor of starch, sweat, tobacco, rice whisky and the incense that rose ceilingward in thin, shaking columns from two bowls of Tibetan soapstone An obese Chinaman with a walnutlike countenance in which cunning and melancholy were equally commingled was speaking monotonously through long, rat-tailed mus- taches, while the others listened with impassive decorum. It was a special meeting of the Hip Leong Tong, held in their private clubrooms at the Great Shanghai Tea Com- pany, and conducted according to rule. “*Therefore,”’ said Wong Get, “‘as a matter of honor it is necessary that our brother be avenged and that no chances be taken. A much too long time has already elapsed. I have written the letter and will read it.” He fumbled in his sleeve and drew forth a roll of brown paper covered with heavy Chinese characters, unwinding it from a strip of bamboo, To the Honorable Me mbers of the On Gee Tong: Whereas it has pleased you to take the life of our beloved friend and relative Wah Sing, it is with greatest courtesy and the utmost regret that we inform you that it is necessary for us likewise to remove one of your esteemed society, and that we shall proceed thereto without delay. Due warning being thus honorably given I subscribe myself with profound appreciation, For the Hip Leong Tong, WONG GET. Ile ceased reading and there was a perfunctory grunt of approval from round the circle. Then he turned to the official soothsayer and directed him to ascertain whether the time were propitious. The latter tossed into the aira handful of painted ivory sticks, carefully studied their argingement when fallen, and nodded gravely. ‘The omens are favorable, O honorable one!"’ “Then there is nothing left but the choice of our repre- entatives,”’ continued Wong Get. ‘Pass the fateful box, O Fong Hen “a Fong Hen, a slender young Chinaman, the official slip- per, or messenger, of the society, rose and, lifting a lac- quered gold box from the table, passed it solemnly to each member. “This time there will be four,’ said Wong Get. Each in turn averted his eyes and removed from the box a small sliver of ivory. At the conclusion of the cere- mony the four who had drawn red tokens rose. Weng Get addressed them. “Mock Hen, Mock Ding, Long Get, Sui Sing—to you it is confided to avenge the murder of our brother Wah Sing. Fail not in your purpose!”’ And the four answered unemotionally: ‘‘ Those to whom it is confided will not fail.”’ Then pivoting silently upon their heels they passed out of the cellar, Wong Get glanced round the table. “If there is no further business the society will disperse after the customary refreshment.” Fong Hen placed thirteen tiny glasses upon the table and filled them with rice whisky scented with aniseed and a dash of powdered ginger. At asignal from Wong Get the thirteen Chinamen lifted the glasses and drank. “The meeting is adjourned,” said he. Eighty years before, in a Cantonese rabbit warren, two yellow men had fought over a white woman, and one had killed the other. They had belonged to different societies, or tongs. The associates of the murdered man had avenged his death by slitting the throat of one of the members of the other organization, and these in turn had retaliated, thus establishing a vendetta which became part and parcel of the lives of certain families, as naturally and unavoid- ably as birth, love and death. As regularly as the solstice they alternated in picking each other off. Branches of the Hip Leong and On Gee tongs sprang up in San Francisco and New York—and the feud was transferred with them to Chatham Square, a feud imposing a sacred obligation rooted in blood, honor and religiom upon every member, who rather than fail to carry it out would have knotted a yellow silken cord under his left ear and swung himself gently off a table into eternal sleep. Young Mock Hen, one of the four avengers, had created a distinct place for himself in Chinatown by making a care- ful study of New York psychology. He was a good-looking Chink, smooth-faced, tall and supple; and he knew very well how to capitalize his attractiveness. By day he attended Columbia University as a special student in ap- plied electricity, keeping a convenient eye meanwhile on three coolies whom he employed to run The College Laun- dry on Morningside Heights. By night he vicariously operated a chop-suey palace on Seventh Avenue, where congregated the worst elements of the Forty-second Street

— ee i ee ee OP <n.

a en ae

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a ty potion —— ee = ere -—— _ aN ET THE SATURDAY EVENING POST 9 and Broadway district. But his heart was in the gambling Square, while Quong resumed his tortoiselike perambula- effectually protected him from the knife thrust and tl den which he maintained in Doyers Street, and where any- tion toward Ah Fong’s. Pell and Doyers Streets were de- revolver shots, but his skull was crushed beyond repa one who knew the knock could have a shell of hop for the serted save for an Italian woman carrying a baby, and were Thus was the murder of Wah Sing avenged lue and g, once Mock had given him the once-over through pervaded by an unnatural and suspicious silence. Most of proper form the litth liding panel the shutters on the lower windows were dowr Ah Fong Detective Moons distant notr re thant I i | M » Christian Chir subsequent story of what happened was simple, and brie f rushed ba to the rner at the ! f the for business re s—-for wh to the effect that Quong, having entered his shop and priced t time to catch a side glimpse of Mock Hen a tanding that it gave him various litchi nuts and pickled starfruit, had purchase« he raced a Pell Street | disappeared the ce M m and also frequente¢ some powdered lizard and, with the package in his left of the Great Shang! lea ¢ par The Italian woma ettlement where Miss Far hand, had opened the door to go out. As he stood there was fliling the air with he iter but the detec e di play ping-pong and other exci lor with his right hand upon the knob and facing the afternoon not pause in his hurtling pursuit. He was te ate » him from books adapted to an American ld of ter sun four shadows fell aslant the window and a man whor ever Che cellar d I t 1 all his eff bre t He was a great favorite at both places, for he was sweet- he positively identified as Sui sing emptied a bag if ope tempered and wore an expression of heaven-born inno- powder—afterward proved to be red pepper ipo! Bull Ne B e, the w tle vho tied Zabisko or cence He had even been to church with Miss Di Quong’s face; then another, Long Get, made a thrust at on the tage { the 1 Grand Opera H 19] had temporal absenting himself for that purpose of aSunday him with a knife, the effect of which he did not observe, as — been prome | h Mollie Malone, of the Champag morning from the steam-heated flat where—unknown to almost at the same instant Mock Hen felled him with a Gir ind G Burlesquers Compar Both heard tl her, of course—he lived with his white wife, Emma Pratt, blow upon the head with an iron bar, while a fourth, fu ade 1 saw M treak of flying le — pa i lady of higl miscellaneous antecedents. Mock Ding, fired four shots at his crumpling body with within af feet of the iged in transacting legal or other busi- a revolver, one of which glanced off and fractured a very “God!” ¢ ited M é re as sho that . A vhich t ocab mes his rudimentary pidgin nacular English was the vensed the loo, faro, fan- f Chinatowr Detective Mooney, of District beer so ] l€ Attorney trouble from his doorway in Dovers Street just be- fore four o'clock the following Thursd ind slip silently along ives l Fong grocer! and instantly sensed some- thing pe iliar in the called, it terposi gl im- elf. ‘‘Where you goin’?” Quong pauser deprecating gesture I widely pread open paln Lo vuurself!’”? he replied bland Me o buy glocery.” Moone ran hi hands over the d ody, frisking him for possibile fort r ‘For the lo of ouse in undershirt is that?” Quong grinned broadly as the dete¢ ve lifted the suit of louble-chain mail yed hea bh] blouse from his shoulders to nis Knees **So-ho!’’ continued the plain-clothes mat pli ouble brewin ,¢ elephant b ‘Go’lor Mooney | finally "" safe! guess you ré He turned back inthe 1 of ( directio! nhatham > municipal, head of the syn Mock earned at night sociologi or religious world—at of the most spoke a fluent and even school. Incidentally he which controlled and dis- consisted only ver- icale tan and other gambling privileges ynd, detail d to make good am’s boast that there had never costly Chien Lung vase and ruined four boxes of mandarin- his excitement counter, and when sufficiently revived he crawled forth to find what had once been Quong lying across the threshold, blossom tea. In the murderers gone, and the Italian woman prost he ducked bel tr shrieking with a hip splintered by a stray bullet sidewalk outside the window lay the remnants of the bag a knife broken short off at the handle, a heavy bar of soft iron slightly bent, and a partially emptied forty-four-caliber revolver. of pe pper, Quong’s suit of m ind the ae watch—four-one ate and ‘Here, B e, put your sl ler to t On the Mooney from the cellar step Now then! The two of them threw their combined we it, the lock flew open and they fell { i ness. Three doors leading in different direct ail had glare of Mooney’s mate} Mr. Tutt Pondered Upon the Matter for About an Inch of Stogy and Then Informed the Committee That the Terms Were Eminently Satisfactory Page us in as-witnesses or strike me!”’ And he loo Continued on 69

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10 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST HERE had been a good deal of talk in November 29, /9/9 “We'll see about that later,” he said, and hung up. Shortly after five the executive offices — about appointing a purchasing agent, but the president was lukewarm on thesub ject He seemed to be pretty well sati fied with the existing tem-—which wa nosystem at all, since it comprised a young clerk who filed cata logues and price list and could sometime find them when they were wanted—and every department head bought for him- elf Some of the younger officiais of the concern chafed under this condition, but the president's answer always was that the annual profit sheets showed in creasing returns on the right side of the ledger. It wasa hard argument to. get round. Then one day the uperintendent of operations dropped i bomb in the presi dent’s lap and it exploded “IT came in to tell he appeared and was shown into the presi- dent’s office. The latter made hima generous offer. Wiley did not hesitate. “T’ll take it with one provision —that you give me full authority in my de- partment.” “Certainly! That’s understood. And you'll start with us on the first. Now I wish you'd tell me how you managed to find nails where our men fell down cold.” “It was simple. The purchasing agents of the city have an association, as you may know. The secretary doesn’t pretend to know everything about the stocks carried by the various houses his members represent, but he is a pretty fair market student. When I called him up and said ‘box nails’ he ran over his lists and decided that some of the war you,” the superin tendent said bluntly, “that we're due to shut down the plant about the first of the month.” “We're what “We will have to close up on the first.’ “What are you doing — being funny?” “No, I wish I were. I'm in dead earnest. I’ve only known it ten minutes myself—but there’s no mistake about it now.” The president groaned “Another strike, eh? I thought our boys were all satisfied since P “Oh, it isn’t a strike, Mr. Baker! It isn’t labor trouble or transportation or a shortage of raw materials or a change in our market. When I tell you what it is you'll laugh.”’ “Laugh about a shutdown? Don't worry! What’s the difficulty?” “Box nails.” “Box — nails?” “ We have just enough on hand to run us ten days.’ “But what's that got to do with it? Get out into the market and order some nails!” “There aren't any in the market, There won’t be for two or three weeks.” “Then use some other kind of nails.’ “Can't! Our box shooks are cut to take a certain nail what the trade calls a five-penny cement-coated cooler Nothing else will do.” “That's easy — get some new box shooks to tide us over.’ “That might be done — though it would mean changing all our shipping weights and raise Cain in the transporta- tion department only there happens to be the stevedores’ strike to consider.” yr 9 “Oh, couldn't get shooks from up the river, eh? “That's the answer.” “But good Lord Harry, man! I still don’t see why you can't figure out a scheme for beating this emergency!” The superintendent grinned uncomfortably. “I've been trying to, chief. The only solution seems to be to buy an entirely new box for our gross-lot cases. If we do that it means changing the size and shape of our con- tainers and cartons. Lf we do that we've got to abandon our filling machines and fill by hand—which puts the whole factory system on the blink. I know it sounds funny, but without those particular box nails we’ve got to close down for a while or rebuild the factory.” The president sat digesting this. “It looks absurd,” he agreed finally, “but I can’t sug- gest anything. What I'd like to know is who fell down on the nail orders.” The President's Answer Always Was That the Profit Sheets Showed Increasing Returns on the Right Side of the Ledger “That,” the superintendent of operations replied, “‘is not my territory. The best I can make out of the mess is that the supply department hesitated u few weeks back about buying nails because the market was high then and there were indications that it might break. When the supply clerks realized that we were getting low the boys tried to cover and found they were too late. There wasn’t a nail to be had. If we had had a purchasing department now Pn “Oh, don’t rub it in!” the president interrupted. “T’ll have to fight our way through this somehow. As you go ask the treasurer to drop in, will you?” Frantic telephoning in the next few minutes convinced the two officials that they were blocked in the matter of box nails—and no mistake about it. They brought others into conference—the only brilliant suggestions were an ironical one on the part of the secretary that they ship their product in gunny sacks and an earnest one on the part of the sales manager that they appeal to a man he knew to buy for them. “Who's this man?” the president demanded sharply. “Wiley of Sharp Steel.” ““A purchasing agent?” “ Assistant to John Greer, the purchasing agent. He’s a live young fellow, and Greer is the best purchasing chief in the city—as I have many reasons for knowing.” “See if Wiley will go to lunch with me,” the president ordered finally. And the conference broke up on that. Wiley proved to be an alert, neat, keen-eyed young citizen with an agreeable smile above a very firm chin and with a quick and accurate way of summing up that made a few words go a long distance. “T'll admit that it’s a hard nut to crack, Mr. Baker,” he told the president. “‘ Why haven’t you had a purchasing agent long ago?” “Didn't see the need of one,” Baker admitted. ‘“‘Now I'm beginning to. And if you can pull us out on this nail business I'll want to make you a proposition.” “I'll see what I can do,” young Wiley said cautiously. And at four o’clock that afternoon a heavy truck backed up to the supply department warehouse platform and began unloading five-penny cement-coated box nails. The president was notified, and called Wiley. “Can you come over at five o’clock?”’ he asked. “To. “And by the way, you'd better tell your people that you're going to leave them on the first.” Young Wiley’s laugh sounded. babies that were left homeless after the armistice ought to have what I wanted. One of them did—the Nevers Brass Foundry. You might have combed the town and missed them. As far as that goes, I might have too. But the association saved us.” The president chuckled. “You've sold the purchasing-agent idea to me now for keeps,” he said. “I feel better already. Go to it!” That was the beginning of a new era in the history of the company. At the end of eight months the auditing department got out a special report on the activities of the purchasing agent’s department that showed that Wiley had made or saved an amount equal to fifteen per cent of the total profits of the firm for the preceding year. And there were no more awkward hitches due to lack of supplies or raw materials or needed machinery. The younger offi- cials had a chance to say “I told you so,” and the president had excellent reason for admitting that he had been wrong. But he had more to learn. The time came when it was necessary for the company to add four five-ton trucks to its fleet. The president knew little about trucks, but he owned and drove a Mileage touring car and was an enthusiastic booster for it. He salled the purchasing agent in and said so. “All right,” the P. A. said. ‘‘ What about it?” “T think,” said the president, ‘that it would pay us to have Mileage trucks. If they are as good as the passenger cars we couldn’t ask for more.” The purchasing agent frowned. “I’m just beginning to look into the truck question, Mr. Baker,” he said. “From what I’ve already seen I am inclined toward the Grand. But I'll investigate further.” A week later he came back. “T’ve decided on the Grand truck,” he said. The president looked up sharply. “‘What’s the matter with the Mileage?" he demanded. “Nothing that I know of. But let me tell you how I came to eliminate it in reaching a decision.” “Go ahead.” ““As soon as the truck dealers found we were in the market they came down on me in swarms. I discovered that there were about eighty different motor trucks on the market. From the catalogues and the selling talk of the agents they all looked good. But in thinking the matter over I decided that what we wanted to buy wasn’t looks or names or even low first cost—what we wanted was mileage. Service, you understand.” “Go on.” (Continued on Page 54)

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ii in ‘ ' 7 ' | ; THE HEN the few other Americans in the block are mad clear through and helplessly afraid, what are you going to do? You'll probably do what one American did—snap out the lights, bolt the doors, and hope the state police will arrive before the riot breaks from Tenth Street, where it began in fifteen languages, nto your block and the only business avenue in the town. You'll be as mad as the other Americans, and just as cared, unless you are one of those foolhardy persons who lon’t believe anything un-American and Bolshevistic can ven in Donessen, because Donessen is in five Liberty Loans. You'll be mad because you're an American and helpless, and you'll be afraid because you are sandwiched in between the Lithuanian Club on one side and the Greco-Italian Club on the other, with the headquarters of the Croatian colony just across the street. oversubs¢ ribed a Your helplessness comes from knowing that you are only one of fifteen hundred scattered Americans, whereas, hur- riedly mobilized, imbued with a new kind of class hatred, ignorant of the law, and so much plastic mud in the hands of a choice group of red radicals, are thirteen thousand five hundred foreign-born steel workers, believing that you and your puny fifteen hundred compatriots, assisted by a dozen state police, are all that stands between them and ownership —actual ownership!—of the Pennsylvania ills stretching for three miles along the Monongahela River behind you. You're fairly certain the steel strike can’t win. Corpora- tion advertisements have been hurling that at you in twenty different languages until you believe it. But that isn’t going to make you forget that you watched free-born, independent sons of the Stars and Stripes cower in cold fear for the safety of their wives and families while past their front door flowed a steady stream of Magyar, and Slovak, and Austrian, and Croatian, and Serbian, and Bulgarian, and Italian, and Greek, and Polish, and Lithu- anian, and Russian, and Rumanian and a dozen other in- ternational Advance Agents of Syndicalism COM MITTEE of senators came down from Washington and interviewed a great many “‘workers’’; and it looked calm and peaceful as a summer’s day, while up a back alley in Donessen a hand press was grinding out a flame of red revolution that flared forth in these words: The Workers Shall Rule. Now is the Time to Throttle Your Masters. Stick Together and We Shall Tear Down the system. The Courts Can’t Touch Y ou, for We Will Own the Courts. Don’t be Misled LI By lL. i. McKenzie DECORATION Br EDGAR F. WITTMACK the advance agents of syndicalism speaking to gullible masses of foreigners in their own language, without even the check of an official interpreter. Further, you saw a parade mob wind its way through the peaceful streets of Donessen, bent on the invasion of another steel community across the river. Over there the burgess had called for volunteers and had prepared fifteen hundred American citizens to resist the breach of state and municipal law prohibiting assemblies of this character in times of disorder. Yes, the sun shone on a peaceful American community. Nothing could happen in Donessen. They repeated it over and over again, did American citi zens, seeking to reassure themselves against this arro- gant demonstration of syndicalist agitators. The parade ramped soundingly past your door and down onto the bridge three blocks away. At the borough limits of the neighboring town you were told that citizens—lawyers, doctors, ministers, editors, business men and working- men-—had armed themselves and were stationed on the heights overlooking the river. Still, it couldn’t be. You laughed, and if the laugh trembled a little it was no reflection on your Americanism. Then a shot rang out. Another and another, until the firing had grown into a fusillade. You rushed to the door and you wondered if it would be possible to get your own family to safety somewhere outside this seemingly Rus- sianized zone. The fusillade swelled in volume. There were some who had said this was to be merely a peaceful parade of striking workers, peacefully conducted. Then the tramp, tramp of five thousand feet on the shaking bridge sounded ominously nearer again. They were returning. What had happened? This: Without apparent reason, other than to demonstrate their power and the intent that might underlie it, members of the parade mob had been amusing themselves by firing on one of the plants of the steel mills where they were employed. Win dows were smashed by the volley, that was all. No one was at work in the mills. At the far side of the bridge a small troop of Pennsyl- vania state police turned the head of the parade, galloping among the leaders and firing as they came, but pointing their riot guns heavenward. The parade mob turned on itself because it lacked leadership to go ahead. Radical agitators were not there to assume command; they rarely SATURDAY EVENING POST a S RIES are in evidence when law and order perforce unholsters its weapons. Back came the thwarted strikers through the streets of Donessen, and a muttering, mumbling, guttural mob it was, as it again swung past your door Riding closely behind were the state police One thing that day stood between the American home of Donessen and the fanning of the spark of disorder into a flame of violence. This was the wholesome respect of the alien for the Pennsylvania state constabulary. “The Cos the line of the parade sacks are coming!” was passed along They call the police that, the term emanating from the group of Russian and Finnist effort to disrupt labor organization and law and order i the valley of steel is permeated The “Cossacks” were enough to brea merely a good handful of them. Representing the best type of Americanism they rode through the polyglot gath ering, advising the workers in their own tong ds with whom the whole up the assembly to retur to their homes. No person in all that mob—which had within the hour sought a demonstration of force as opposed to American law and order—was molested by any stat: trooper. Yet it was of this day’s i mittee was told ‘“‘many citizens were shot down in cold blood by brutal thugs and gunmen.” It was of these same incidents that the senate committee was told “‘the met were herded in groups in a building and told if they did not go back to work they would be hanged.’ dent that the senate com Americanize or Deport peta sa n the midst of the handwriting of cla antagonism on the walls of your own supposedly Amer ican town, and discovered you stood on the edge of melting pot that had boiled over with qui prejudice, and had you watched the plant of grow and grow until it assumed e proportions of m« pirit, held in checl only b the heer reputatior of trained state constabulary, you to-day would be saying t the sen: i mmittee Ye they must be America ized—and if you are for the ifety of America and American ideals do your Americanizing now re your de porting, or whatever it is that must be done And then,: only lop off these limbs of revolution but lay the ax to the root of the tree of Do that And have done with any it meré i dor not crush this communistic spirit No more peaceful town existed on that ominous mort ing of the parade. We flung oul Mall-tow jest wit! by the Stool Pi- lmanmNDRAACS REET ae oa geons of the Mas- ters, And before the ators stood a sel witness from Donessen, stood and told them that the “brutal thugs and gunmen had hot dow: many peaceable citizens in cold blood; had herded working men in groups into buildings and told them they would hang them; had killed many.” Yet you knew that in the month of strike there had been no person killed. You knew that the only per- ons threatened were American citizens, that homes of working- men had been fired by aliens, in- structed and coached by two or three separate brands of agita- tors representing thesabotage of the I.W.W.,the bomb- ing ideas of the kee zest, the kind thattellwehaven't n ta gtt v er ‘ pusl the Armistice M gned andti i } i toc t Z m toll and passed Ther st chee i ptimism Ww j 1. for thought of tl ] ples ol a ! qf tongue is ( eight more our Ire if minal i ? t that ? 1 ‘ t hundred of it ‘ too f the ma t rue icro the River Mar ind he Ar gonne in-Pru Pr i If 1 cou vy tl tow ! i ore of othe tee! towns like if in tl Pittsburg! j t where great mills had beer booming ong at capac Continued on Page 120 superanarchists,

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12 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST November 29, 19/9 Rip Van Winkle Lands am Order HEN Rip Var drafted to help Vietor } Jr., of the Chicago sales office of the Havelock Varnish Con pany tose la bill of varnish a procrastinating pro pect. In view of the fact that railroads were not at that time in existence we need feel no surprise that Rip experienced no symp oms of the coming sale a he stumbled agedly toward the village, rubbir g his fore head in perplexity as he raised his cracked voice to call his dog And ina much as it is not the pres- ent writer’s intention to attempt to collaborate with Washington Irving in telling the tory of Rip’s return to civilization, we may safely leave the old man t make his trembly way back to hi old haunts under convoy of Mr Irving and ourselves take the elevator to the ixth floor of the Monarch Building, Chicago, on the morning of April 16, 1917, the day being Monday. In the elevator we discover Edward R. Carrington, manager of the Chicago sales department of the Havelock Varnish Company of Boston As the elevator gate clangs as the car leaves the fifth floor Mr. Carrington— being one of those I-carry-the-office-key-myself managers—reeches into his right hand front pants po ket for his bunch of keys and deftly selects one of them by feel as he ste ps out into the marble-walled corridor of the sixth floor. He turns to the left, strides down the corridor with an aggres ive swing past five doors bearing the name * Havelock Varnish Company,” and stops at the door of Room 614, which bears down in the lower right-hand corner the word ‘Entrance Nodding in high good humor to the office boy and the two stenographers who are hovering at the door, he inserts the key, turns it and the door swings open, disclosing the usual Monday-morning seatter of mail on the floor, pushed through the door slot by the letter carrier on his Saturday-afternoon rounds. Ordinarily Carrington pays no attention to the Monday morning mail on the floor, leaving it for the office boy to pick up. But this morning his attention is attracted by a certain white envelope, long and narrow, lying over by the water cooler. This he knows at a glance to be the personal stationery of the president of the company and he stoops and picks it up almost involuntarily, for a per sonal letter from the president is something to sit up about He enters his private office. Ripping open the long white envelope before removing his hat, he reads the letter which brings us to the opening of our story Boston, April 14, 1917. Mr. Edward R. Carrington, Manager Chicago Sales Office, Havelock Varnish Company, 614 Monarch Building, Chicago, Ill My dear Mr. Carrington My son, Victor, Jr., has just completed his four years at Harvard and | now want him to enter our business. During part of each of his vacations he has been working in our laboratories to get an under- standing of the chemical end of the business and he is now anxious to learn the selling end, selling being his natural inclination. It has seemed to be desirable, owing to his relationship to me, not to have him start on either the Boston or the New York sales force, but to send him out to Chicago where he will start among strangers. I suggest that you start him in the railroad department Needless to say, Victor will be expected to enter your office on just the same basis as any other new man, and inder no circumstances is the fact that he is my son to influence you to show him any special consideration. lie will arrive on the Twentieth Century Tuesday morning Yours very truly, : ; VicToR HAVELOCK, President As Carrington finished reading the letter his assistant, Gordon William entered the outer office carry ng a By Robert R. Updegratif ILLUSTRATED BY WILSON C. DEXTER From Then on it Was a Joke Round the Office That Victor Havelock, Jr., Coutd Sait and Dine With the President of the C. M. & B., But He Coutdn’t Sett Him a Pint of Varnish uitease and tennis racket and wearing a week-end coat of tan. “Oh, say, Gord, look at this,” called Carrington as Williams hung up his hat and coat. “Huh!” grunted Williams when he had finished reading the letter. “Just our luck, isn’t it?’’ Carrington demanded sourly. “When Boston has anything they don’t want they wish it onto us.” “Huh!” grunted Williams again, staring at the letter “I've never met this young Harvardite, have you?” asked Carrington. “Yes,”’ said Williams; ‘I met him once in the elevator when I was at the home office.” “Well, then you are elected to be a committee of welcome to go over to La Salle Station to meet the Century to- morrow morning with the keys to the city for His Nibs. Take him over to my club. We'll have to put him up there until he gets his bearings. I'll arrange about a room for him when I go to the club for lunch to-day.” Williams stood smoothing back his cherished pompa- dour, still looking at the letter hard. “Ye gods!" he blurted finally. “I wonder what the old man’s thinking about to suggest putting a new cub into the railroad department.” ‘“*T know it!” exclaimed Carrington hotly. ‘Of all jobs to pick, selling to the railroads is the prize pick. Why, I’ve been on this territory for eleven years and I don’t feel any too comfortable going after railroad business myself! Only an old seasoned technical man like Longstreet ought to be allowed to handle the railroads.” “Well, the old man only suggests that you put this budding graduate into the railroad department.” “Humph!” said Carrington shortly. “If you'd ever worked in the Boston office with the chief you'd as soon think of ignoring one of his suggestions as you would of ignoring the suggestion of a mad bull that you get on the far side of the fence or get gored. That’s the worst of it,” he continued, throwing open the roll top of his desk with a bang. “The chief sends the kid out here fresh from Harvard, and no matter what happens, as long as we don’t kick, the chief will think he’s doing fine. And being the boss’ son, we don’t dare kick on him. So he can just stay on, fattening up on experience on our pay roll and getting us in a mess with the railroad purchasing departments. I tell you, it’s just like Boston to wish their lemons onto us.” “Well,” said Williams dryly, his face suddenly lighting up with a significant smile, “if he’s a lemon we might queeze him.” “How?’ “Well, there’s the C. M. & B., for instance. Longstreet or no one else in this office has ever pried a varnish order out of them. They’re regular bears over there. That might be a good prospect for some young fellow to start on.” In spite of himself Car- rington grinned. “T get you! After work- ing on a prospect like the C. M. & B. for a few months the railroad end of the business might not look so attractive. Then if he didn’t decide that Boston or some other Eastern office would go better with his complexion, why, at least he might decide that calling on the retail trade would be a nice change. And,” he added, warming to the idea, ““we have some lovely ter- ritory out through Iowa and the Dakotas with nice long rides between stations that might be developed by some young college man.” “Exactly!” agreed Gordon Williams. “Well, fix up a desk for him in Longstreet’s office. Gosh, but won't Longstreet be delighted to havea little sales colt running round in his pasture!” By noon everybody round the office knew that the chief’s son was coming out to the Chicago office. There was considerable ex- citement. More than one stenographic gum quid was neglected that morning, ex- cepting in the case of Martha Scriver, who seemed to be able to chew better when talking. It was Martha who sounded the keynote of the office opinion when she said: ‘Well, George Longstreet will give little Victor Harvard Havelock a nice little post-graduate course that will make Harvard seem like a kindergarten.” The main fireworks of the morning were set off in the privacy of Carrington’s office with Longstreet as the sky- rocket. He’d be blankety blanked if any blankety blank young cub from Harvard could come out and call on his prospects, even if he was the president’s son. Why—why why, blankety blank blank! It was thirty-five minutes before Longstreet could get near enough to earth even to see any humor in the idea of this new cub calling on the C. M. & B. But finally when Carrington drew a word picture of young Havelock interviewing Maganch, the purchasing agent of that road, a faint flicker of a smile flitted across Longstreet’s face, and Carrington knew that the pyrotechnics were almost over for the present. In the end Longstreet had to give in, of course, for the newcomer was the president’s son, and, father’s letter to the contrary notwithstanding, presi- dents’ sons are presidents’ sons. “Well,” asked Carrington as Gordon Williams entered his office the next morning, where he and Longstreet were having it out for the second time, “did you get him fixed up at the club all nice and cozy? And did he notice the Harvard banner I got the steward to put up on the wall of his room?” ““Yes—he did not.” “What do you mean? Didn’t he arrive?” “Yes, and he said to tell you that he thought it was mighty fine of you to offer to put him up at your club, but he really believed it would be better for him to look out for himself from the beginning. He went over to some small hotel that he knew about and said he’d be over here in about an hour.” “‘Humph!” grunted Carrington, glancing out of the corner of his eye at Longstreet, who sat sullenly thumbing his loose-leaf price-list book. ‘‘He’s commendably inde- pendent anyway.” “Snippy, I should say,” snapped Longstreet, ignoring the fact that Carrington’s remark had not been addressed tohim. ‘‘ Now, looka here, Mr. Carrington; you’ve known me for nine years and you know I’ll stand for a lot, but when =~ “Yes, yes, I know,” soothed Carrington. “You've told me that a dozen times in the last half hour. But, Long, old boy, he’s the president’s son and we’ve got to give him a chance. Now just lie low and watch a certain young Harvard graduate go up against the C. M. & B. And,” ’ ’ — = ——¥ Se ee

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= — =~ —————— ee a THE SATURDAY EVENING POST he added significantly, “if some young fellow should soon decide that the railroad end was a little too stiff a proposition for a greenhorn, why, there’s some half-a-day- between-towns retail trade that needs developing out through Iowa and the Dakotas that might make Boston look more like home to a Bostonian. Get me?” Longstreet grinned in spite of himself. At eleven o’clock sharp the elevator gate clanged, steps sounded down the corridor and the door of 614 opened with a businesslike swing. ““Mr. Carrington, please. Say it is Victor Havelock, Jr., from Boston.”’ In the outer office there was much covert craning of necks to get a squint at the president’s son through the glass partition that fenced off the reception office. And Gridley and Whitmarsh and Roy Farrell, three stars of the Chicago sales force, who had been hanging round the office all morning to give the newcomer the once-over, all sud- denly had business that took them out through the recep- tion office, where they winked at Marjorie Bent as she made out the name slip for the boy to take in to Carrington—a wholly unnecessary formality, since the latter had been sitting in suspense for fifteen minutes trying to think up a second C. M. & B. type of prospect for the new man to buck up against to keep him away from conflict with Long- street. “‘He’s got nice hair anyway,” was the mental comment of Marjorie Bent, who was always more impressed with what was on top of a man’s head than with what was inside. “Show him right in,”’ directed Carrington when the boy delivered the slip a minute later. As the junior Havelock was ushered into the manager's office such a buzz of comment ran through the outer office that Carrington hastily closed the door. At twelve the door opened again and both men came out with their hats on. ““We'll go over to my club for luncheon,” Carrington was saying. “It’s quiet there and we can talk without any interruptions. When we come back I'll introduce you to Longstreet and the of our family. Now, as I was saying, I think perhaps the best prospect for you to approach first be the C. M. & B. They ——” And that was all Marjorie Bent’s sharp ears could catch before the outer office door shut. It was not until after lunch that the office force and such of the salesmen as happened to be in got a real good look at Victor Havelock, Jr. What they saw was a tall young man with rather wavy brown hair and grayish eyes and a serious face that lit up occasionally with a smile that seemed to be about a fifty-fifty mixture of deviltry and rest would dignity. At the luncheon table Carrington had suggested that perhaps Havelock would prefer to spend a week going the But to Carrington’s great relief Havelock had declared that if it would be all he’d rather jump right overboard and get wet a In fact he even announced that if agreeable to Carrington he would call on the C. M. & B. the very next morning and try to interest them in Havelock rounds with Longstreet and learning the ropes. the sé goods. ‘ “All right, go to it,”’ Carrington had said. Havelock hadn’t seen the quizzical smile that played round his lips, a smile that suggested that he was enjoying some very pri- vate thoughts that were as amusing as they were private. And the reason he hadn’t seen Carrington’s quizzical smile was that he had not dared look at him for fear Carrington would see the smile that he felt must certainly be showing through his own normally rather owl-like face, for it had taken him about three sec- ‘4 onds to see through the C. M. & B. — deal when Carrington had first sug- \ Wi gested that road as a prospect. t The fact was he knew something about the C. M. & B. that Carrington didn’t know, or Longstreet either. He knew that the next morning the C. M. & B. would have a new purchasing — agent, quietly taken on as assistant to the present purchasing agent, who had suddenly found it necessary to be out of the city for a spell. What was more, the new purchasing agent was a friend of his—had in fact been a senior at Harvard during his own freshman year and had been one of his pals in spite of their difference in classes. Further, this new purchasing agent, Arbuckle by name, who had been for the past two years assistant to the purchasing agent of a large Eastern road, had been his traveling companion on the Twentieth Century from Boston and they had talked over the railroad-varnish problem at great length and Arbuckle had halfway prom- ised to swing some of the C. M. & B. varnish business to Havelock just as soon as he could arrange it, because he knew from experience that it was as good as any, if not better. One more fact young Havelock knew that Carrington didn’t, though he had always suspected it: The reason that Longstreet had never been able to sell the C. M. & B. was that Maganch, the old purchasing agent, was getting a bit of graft on much of the business he placed. That was why he was to be fired could break Arbuckle in dropped as quietly as possible just as soon as they Pei Olt IRTLY after ten the next morning Victor Havelock, WJ Jr., ste pped into the ricke ty little elevator, one of the few surviving gas-lighted elevators in Chicago, and jerked slowly to the fourth floor of the antiquated building housing the C. M. & B. general offices. Making his way along the gloomy corridor past offices labeled of Dining Car Service,” “‘Supt. of Tele- graph,” “Trainmaster’’ and “Engineer of Bridges and Trestles,” he finally arrived at a door marked was “Supt. “Purchasing Agent.” A crudely painted fist pointed to a littl beside the door and under it “Present your card at the window.” Havelock’s visit with his old Harvard friend was pleasant window was a brusque request to socially, but—as might have been expected — was not ductive of an order. At noon Havelock explaine d to Car rington in a perfectly naive way and with a sober face that while he hadn’t landed an order from the C. M. & B. he did think he was on the right track to get one. And Car- rington repeated his words to Longstreet after lunch, causing the latter to laugh outright for the first time in two days. ‘ Meanwhile Carrington turned Havelock loose on an- other hard nut of a prospect that Longstreet had given up as hopeless long since—the Chicago purchasing agent of a group of small Western interurban trolley companies which pooled their buy ing. But if Victor Havelock, Jr., had expected to make rapid headway with the C. M. & B. through his friend Arbuckle he was doomed to rather dismayed disap- pointment, for after two months, in spite of the fact that the old purchasing agent was still “‘on a little business trip,” Arbuckle found it very diffi- cult to swing the promised varnish young Havelock. ” For you must know that varnishes and varnishers are fussy things to work with Arbuckle knew varnish pretty well from the labora- tory standpoint, for Have- lock had shown him a series of laboratory tests that were startling, but he did not know it from the human- nature standpoint. He had not realized that a harmless order for a new varnish—even though it be a better varnish might stir up such a commotion in the paint shop that—figuratively pro- pro business t None ‘“‘wWho Do You Suppose Was Dining With Him? Other Than the President of the C. M. & B. and Our Young Friend, Victor Havelock, Jr.!"' speaki not so figuratively either, for paint ng it could be heard in the president’ hop curred on lesser pre texts. But he had learned much in job end he had And s¢ » it suddenly He had therefore } opes but no yrder sensed even more thar was that he was afraid to cl college friend whenever he ame round often, latter had told him to c¢ as he had to re port hi call C. M. & B. until he had landed their it rath on— fe er r th made no comment. At the happened sSmail show one Longstr enabled that tupid having but four o e] hat is all Carringtor ild end of the first three mont} Havelock hi for finish ing varnis! and he! a laboratory demonst orders for varnish from hard-nut prosp« stration was one that young Ha é k | previo us summer in the factor ia Longstreet had sold his first order on t yody in his understudy as ‘“‘that Harvard cul the office notice known to have referred to him quite re name on one or two occasions, wt h hac a distinct shock. his first f ‘r salesman to bring thr ew he } ré » har } y isine pe And finally the day came at the end of ne when Longstreet actually ask« waukee with him toaconvention of railroa before which he was covered that varnish from C to Y “Gosh ur Y scheduled to make a young Havelock really knew and he wanted hin experiments for the painter had worked out himself whi qualities of Haveloc} irnisne had ever demonstrated them | That convention was the be friendship between Longstree dent’sson. Fortwo days they togetherin Milwaukee and wher nsisted tha Longstreet with him on some of hi and perform some of the fact he ever iggested t ne give Havel road prospects to worl To the irprise of t week later Havelock br sized order from one of t purcnasing i the Havelock syent } j age 1d warm oO! Tr ings were it fact begit p a little with “the H everybody was g¢ ‘ tion when or ry t 1 certa vhite ¢ ro iddressed to M Jy The lette ! le pe ! t ‘ follow Mr. Victor Have k, Jr Chicage es Office Havelock Va Co 614 Monar | Cc} iv | Dear Sir A f ceived me on } iv manager, Mr. Carring the solicitatior f the " the C. M. & B. Ra i Up to date e have ect f your having p ed ar The Have Com] built Ip on agyre ‘ ] , ’ ’ Saiesmal } he f out good Var nishe A pink-sheet carb of the Chicago office ary with all lett ‘ matters in the t reading it as Gord W “Gord, what do rington demanded, } tissue and not not ny the his assistant’s face \W arched his eyebrov he last sentence but the old man hits hard! rer) ling out good varnishes Continued on Page 130 letter went to Carring

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RIDE °IM, CO By Courtney Ryley Cooper We (put whe | ( ' ‘ " eras é F ‘ } ai pie ( re ‘ ‘ © f iye i re 1 t 0 ! ‘ ? } i t r ‘ etwee i t ! nand i alt Boise, Ida i hi pe ent ‘ na Bi iwa 1 pa ‘ na tent placed the ad of ‘ 1cié Butt ea Kz ! hadow ind faded re to | re the place where t ie aa were ew ‘ l leu \ | git ‘ ‘ A ‘ Phe road tha 4 go brought low ‘ ? or f tiv dig Vv it ¢ reece iver Pl re Creorge ‘ ind Barrow I t now at itomobilt highway broad et yugt for three machines toa 4 pa at once Up W ming tt last of the stage lines has bee ibandoned; auto busses whirl you tone, stopping now and then to allow pear The only Indian seen « the streets of Denver in the last three months wore his civvile when off duty and his head care while working He was adverti ing a motio pieture show Atop Mount Lookout tourists from Albuquerque, New Mexico, and El Paso, Texas, to say noth ing of Phoenix, Arizona, and Provo, Utah, have nicked and cut the tree which shel ters the grave of Buffalo Bill until hard! enough of it is left to sustain life Ye the old West Dead? Perhap Dead as far as the outer manifestat ire erned the lack of transportation, the lation from tr more ed Ww 1, the absence of culture and educa 1 mfort and convenience and a et gs which i is eA i irabie it ilt Lake a within the ght | ibwa KS But certain! t dead a » spirit dead a concer mer f other da not even apy hing deatt It merely in I or adet ! | As « lt Fifteer hou 1 pe ire packed intoan inel re capable of gy comfort to te Before ther itangied ma f color, of leaping, sprawling horse f swirl gw rope f dust, horse wranglers ir- reptitiously bit rg the ears of the rcharges when the humane agents aren't watching; en in chaps and clar g Spurs and silt hirts that blaze with raucous hues; of high beaver hats creased down the center; f belts carved and monogrammed and plated with silver; of higt igreed boots ind leather gauntlets and high-pommeled and of excite- of the of women in buckskin left on; danger and the ria ! * saddles; whide with the hair ent and voice ring announcer? ‘Maggie Martin fre Fidgety Ann!” \ rumble from the fifteen thousand \ ates of a arena in a A scurry! blind is roa mm Poudre River, or high-pitched y-e-e-u-p” puncher who arrived at the Ixty of horse-power speedster figures a gunny-sack \ through the Yel to feed THE SATURDAY EVENING POST x When the Horse Doesn't Buck Sufficiently, the Wranglers “Speed Him Up" low- the removed from the eyes of Fidgety begin. Ann and the fidgets Five minutes later the ambulance jogs back to November 29, 19/9 Y! the white emergency- hospital tent a quarter of a mile away carry- ing Maggie Martin, plus one broken leg and a dislocated shoulder. There is no panic in the grand stand—hardly any ex- citement. The next event is on, and besides | this is the fifth ambu- lance run for the day. Maggie had only one leg broken. The man who tried to beat the bucking-horse record of the world just ten minutes before her was far more interesting. The horse lay down and rolled on him. And under such con- ditions one hardly can say that the case of the old West is beyond re- demption. It is only leading a Jekyll-and- Hyde existence. Which is the Jekyll and which the Hyde ispurely a matter of choice. Throughout eleven and_ three- quarter months of the year every city beyond the western end of Nebraska is an ordi- nary twentieth- century town, with ordinary twentieth- century ideas, with the usual elections, aldermanic squabbles, franchise fights and police clean-ups. The Usual “Review of the Piainsmen"’ Then a sort of mental measles seems to break out. The point of infection makes little difference. The symptoms are always the same. The staid dealer in coal suddenly throws away his fedora and covers his head with a fifteen-inch beaver sombrero; trades his bump-toed shoes for a pair of filigreed boots with three-inch rowels clanking be- hind; his percale shirt becomes a livid thing of sea-green silk surmounted by a cerise handkerchief at the neck with the knot tied at the back. The banker, the butcher, the street-car conductor lose in- terest in the price of clothing and the fall Tailored suits are gone from the shop windows. In their places weird de- signs in solid-colored shirtings appear; Angora chaps dyed in colors equaled only in the dreams of a rarebit fiend; saddles, filigreed, carved, with silver and gold mountings; quirts, gauntlets of carved calfskins, beaver hats, lariats, tie ropes, cinches, snub ropes—everything that went with the West of other days has suddenly shoved progress into the back end of the store where it neither can seen nor thought about. Tom-toms pound in the gray of dusk and the glint of dawn. Sioux bucks and squaws and papooses wander the streets, again in their beads, buckskins and vests adorned with elk teeth; their war bonnets of eagle feathers and dancing bustles of turkey tails. Bow-legged cow- punchers, long-armed horse wranglers, clattering herds of wild-eyed outlaw horses bound for the corrals just outside town. All these things appear overnight, tak- ing their places as naturally as though they never had been away. The staid municipality has become a cow town again, to remain a cow town for one happy garish week. Then it settles back to its era of progress, while the epidemic ot memories spreads to Cheyenne, Thermop- olis, Casper and to Butte, on to Pendle- ton and Calgary; down to Phoenix, perhaps Tucson, over to Las Vegas and Sante Fé, then round to Amarillo in the Sty les. be

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———S—= = THE SATURDAY EVENING POST 15 Panhandle country, or Bovina or Salinas, thence to Rocky Ford and Monte Vista, with sporadic outbursts everywhere along the line that can corral an outlaw horse, a bulldogging steer and the necessary cow- punchers. Here and there, struggling bravely to make ends meet, a county fair strives to create interest, or a Chau- tauqua hangs out its banners and beckons to trade. But woeful is either unless it has as its adjunct the wild-steer roping, the bulldogging and bucking-horse contests of a rodeo, a frontier day or a stampede. For these, like the prize pumpkin of the East, are the institutions of the West. Men—and women— play with death all year that they may be able to deal a new hand with the same old menace when westernism begins to sweep the West. There is a sort of religious earnestness about it all, as though progress had been allowed a whole year in which to glut humanity, that retrogression—if you can call the one fevered week by such a name—might brighten up things until the next time rolls round. There is ranch after ranch in Colo- rado, Wyoming, Utah and other states of the western West where horses seldom travel to town. The automobile looks ifter that. The produce is hauled on heavily horse-powered trucks and the chuck wagon long ago became motorized. But the horses are there just the same, to be taught the old tricks of the range as studiously as though automotive power never had been invented. Other animals—ragged, unkempt, wild—roam the ranges from summer to summer, not to be approached until the fever of the old West begins to rise and the store- keepers are putting red-silk shirts in their windows. Happy is the ranch owner who can pro- duce the outlaw horse with enough devil in him to fight the strongest pair of bowlegs that ever cowboy grew! Happier is that spraddled cow-punch if he can hang on long enough to send that four-hoofed fiend back to the ranch and to oblivion a broken, beaten thing. With the years it has become a pro- fessional sort of contest—men and women who train from month to month, who study every whim and far cy of the buck- Prairie Rose Henderson Riding a Bucking Horse, Just Following an Accident in a Relay Race Wii ing horse and live by the rewards of the rodeo, if the surgical bill isn’t greater than the prize money And therein lies one of the reasons why grand stands re pact ed year after y It’s a he-man’s game, this turning back tne clock, no matter whether played by man or woman; their range of endeavor encompassed in a program which consists of such ye ntle sports as riding wild horses without a saddle and with only a rope nose cinch for a bridle; of throwing Texas longhorns with bare hands; of roping and tying wild steers; of sit- ting —orattempt- ing to sit—on the hurricane deck of an outlaw animal while it sunfishes, Le 1 atdd des fences and does its best to commit murder; of Sioux war dances; relay contests where the accident rate rur fifty per cent; of squaw races on barebacked ponies, which always fl p ping off their horses all the way round result in fat lobby lady Injun the track, while squawking bucl lasso the recreant mounts and later ibsent-minde ily rescue their respe tive wive of blood and ambulance and broken bones and sprains ar ] i t} wrenched, torn muscles and happiest grins that ever came to a human being, even wl of it hard to unde and how earth me and wome in get ar pleasure out of being cut ar te ind generally } hed up Sut the do ? re, the t eo ! B 1912 I stepped from train in Cheyenne expecting to find the staid capital of Wyoming cap italizing in its or iry way, and found instead a1 e of mer red and green chay loud shirt broad hats and shooting or \ week later I went hazily away witl the dazed memor { roch gambu lances and much gore but with little knowl dge « f what it was all about A the other place They were all the same More cuts, more bruises, more smashed collar bones, more squawking, grunting [Indian more ambulance ru ind more gr ! Alway the same, alway the happine And then it began to dawn on me that perhaps these people were sell-appointed apostles of a day that is gone triving to the limit of their bone and sinew to keep alive the traditions and the romance of the land where irrigation is running the prairie dog out of business and the motor | more often to its mate than does the coyote Sut naturally one couldn't expect the apostle himself to look upon thing in that light He—or she—is only having a good time Lo wit: Cal McMillan. I met Cal in Cheyenne five years ago bend ing over the water barrel near the judge tand at Frontier Park In spite of hi prad with the ru pu t re wa a men of ha ing seen the ma belore in the r jinar othe { i! ra iT ‘ And if I’m not mistake I'd ot hin it th Oda coul Ler 1 i drug tore meekly devouring a pine apple indat But now Cal, with the cup poised be fore his lips, wa all that a mo director could wish for pu hed, pulls l and jerked with PHOTOS. BY EPpy spins, twists, pitches, buc ks, War Dancers. Above — Nearing the Finish of a Bulldogging Contest. breaks through and Now Must ““Wrasste The Bulidogger Failed to Throw the Steer With His First Leap "* Him Until He Falls Continued on Page 114

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16 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST CABELL By Alice L. Tildesley $ SHE stepped out of the low red car Cabell flashed an apprehensive glance at the big apartment house. Fully one-third of its | ; glowed cheerfully in the October dusk. ViIndow It must be later than she had imagined. I had a gorgeous time, Mr. Christie,’”’ she effused, sparkling up at the driver with what she privately thought a fascinating smile. Prove it by coming again.” The idea made Cabell gasp. She dared a “T’ll think about it” airily, and ducked the French were wearing—so that tam like those all the gir he had to look at him sidewise How about to-morrow ame time?” ‘Oh— to-morrow?” She began unfastening her glove Why—I don’t know. I'll see. Mamma might have something on.” I'll call you up, then.” His strange almond haped eyes gave her one of their odd long looks the kind that made her feel as if she were the heroine of a screen drama ‘We-ell, after nine in the morning. Mamma’s yone by that time. She'd die if she knew.” Cabell laughed nervously ‘Maybe she’s home now. I'd better fly.” She took a step toward the curving drive, then dashed back to the car. Wait a minute! My books!” He lifted them by their strap and tossed them to her. His per- fect teeth shone whitely in the purpling dark ‘After nine!" he agreed; and added ‘Good night, little pal!’ as she sped up the gravel. She darted into the east entrance and paused before one of the hall mir- rors to see how she had looked when they had said good night. Oh, dear, had that straight piece of hair really straggled like that? The tam should have been pulled farther over the right eye, She rectified these things with a frown and pinned the collar of her fluffy blouse higher in preparation for her mother’s critical glance Then she proceeded to mince to the nearest elevator. Her heels were not so high as she would have liked, but all the girls said she had an elegant walk ‘Good evening, Walker!” She minced into the elevator with a gay nod, Cabell was always gracious to the em- ployees of the Stratford. She hoped they regarded her as a lovely young princess and dreamed of what they said about her to each other. She would have been genuinely sur- prised if she had heard what they actually said. ‘Doug home yet?"’—with a repetition of her fascinating smile. ‘Ain't seen him. Your ma’s in.” Walker stopped the cage and slid back the door with one movement. “She’s waitin’ on you-all.”’ The girl nodded and minced along the corridor. Her mind was working too rapidly to answer. Where should she say she'd been? If she just knew what time it was! All the other girls had wrist watches. She saw the light above the door and paused with one hand on the knob, her eyes mechanically reading the name plate, ‘Mrs. Shirley C. Smith,” while her brain went on with a plausible story. When she finally opened the door and stole in, the crowded little living room was empty. She made her way among the big mission chairs to her own tiny*room and snapped on the pink-shaded lights. She could hear her mother moving about the next cubicle, but she pretended not to. Why shouldn’t mamma say something herself? Cabell put away the tam and hung up the coat of her suit. Mamma hadn't approved of that suit; said it was too old for a schoolgirl. Too old! But Cabell had worn it home, so there could be no question of its going back. “That you, Cabell?” at last, when the girl was fluffing up her fair hair for the third time. “Yes, mamma. You home?” with bright surprise, “Where's Douglas?” Mother and daughter met in the overfurnished living room, Cabell still wearing the sweet, pleased smile she had put on when she replied to the first query. She did not let it fade, even while she observed that she didn’t know a thing about Doug. Hadn't seen him since lit. You know, Doug's class passed out of Miss Malley’s room when she went in for lit “Nearly seven,’’ commented Mrs. Smith with a glance at her watch. She moved restlessly from the table to the stand where the mail lay, and ran over the letters as she ILLUSTRATED BY CLARENCE F. UNDERWO talked. She was aD used to doing more than one thing at a time. “T have some- thing to say to you. I'll wait for Douglas. “You Let Go of Me This Minute. No use going over it twice.’ Cabell sitting on one foot in the farther armchair, thus exhibiting a length of black-silk stocking above the other neat pump, was not interested. It would be some dull business or other, very likely. “By the way, weren't you rather late yourself?” The mother’s brown eyes flashed alertly from the bill before her to her daughter. ““A—little. Iwas—— Stelle and [ran downtown tothe library for a book Miss Mailey wanted us to read in lit.” “What book?” ““Oh—something by Balzac. I’ve got it written down. It wasn’t in. And-—we went to a picture show.”’ She caught a flyaway lock and began pushing short hairs up- ward busily. It had come to her as an inspiration, as she would giggle to Stelle to-morrow. “It’s Friday, mamma, and we've got all day Saturday to study.” Her mother didn’t appear to be listening. She was biting her upper lip and a frown was drawing her brows together. She did not inquire what picture they had seen, though Cabell was quite ready with “‘ Mary Pickford.” You could always say she was so cute, and nobody objected to the plot—except herself and Stelle. They preferred films en- titled Her Immortal Soul or something about wives or, better still, outcasts. Those advertising “Children under sixteen not admitted” especially attracted them IVES THE Nf Daddy. I Guess He'd Settie You!" November 29,1919 Mrs. Smith glanced at her watch again and said Skelton’s bill was outrageous. Bad as dressing a débutante to clothe a schoolgirl. oD Cabell decided it was no time to tease for money. And she wanted a scarf for her dance frock. Douglas came in—breezed in, he would have said. He was a year younger than his sister, with the same fair hair—except that his was curly—O Injustice!—and his gray eyes looked oddly light in his dark skin. “Do you know what time it is?” inquired his mother. He threw his cap into his room with an assumption of ease. No; how could he tell time without a watch? ‘It’s seven. Wash your face and hands and come to the dining room. It will be closed if you dawdle much longer. And—Douglas! Don’t just put your hands under the tap and wipe the dirt on my towels. The laundry can’t get it out. Cabell and I will go on.” She led the way briskly. Cabell following wished she wouldn’t stalk like that. It was so inelegant. She didn’t know what Lance Christie would think! “*Evening,* Mason. Tea, please. Cocoa for the children. What’s on hand? Well, bring it—not those friedthings. Norpie The rest. . . . And hurry, Mason!” Cabell took her place at their little table, after a pause by another, where sat three ladies whom she considered her admirers. She was so fond of admiration. She could never get enough praise. ‘“‘Mamma, I hate cocoa. We’re not babies. Goodness, it’s enough to make a cat laugh to hear you.” Her mother ignored that. ‘Hope you and Stelle didn’t gorge on sundaes and spoil your appetites.” ““We didn’t have a thing.” That was true. It had been too late when Cabell and Lance Christie got back to town He had wanted her to go to a cunning chop- suey place, but she’d refused. She wished it hadn’t been necessary to refuse. It would have been the crowning touch. ““You have on too much powder. You girls dip your heads into it. No, other side. Oh meet me at Skelton’s at one, to-morrow. We'll lunch there and you can try on the winter coat I had them put aside for you.” “Oh, goodness, mamma, do I have to?’ ‘“* Anything else on?” “Why—a—Stelle and I sort of thought we'd go to the art museum. We're s’posed to write a theme about statues. . . . What kind of coat is it?” “Dark blue—rough finish—plush collar that can be buttoned round your ears.’”’ Mrs Smith paused to direct Mason. “ Very girlish model.”’ “T hate girlish models! And I’m sick of ™ blue. Can’t I have black? I saw a gorgeous one in Marcey’s window, a tail thing that goes over your shoulder and hangs down the back. Broadcloth, mamma, with fur that thick.” “Ages too old. You'd look like a little old maid in it. . . . Well, young man, where were you?” “Washing my hands. Didn’t you tell me to?” He jerked up his good-looking square chin. His gray eyes held a curious defiance, more than half apprehension. “You know what I mean. . No, eat your soup. It’s very good.” “I’m not hungry.” But he drew his plate back and dabbled his spoon in it. His mother waited, brows raised, and he presently growled: “I was with the bunch.” That this satisfied her amazed her children. Not so much as an inquiry as to the whereabouts of the bunch. They exchanged meaning glances. “I have something to say to you both after dinner,” was Mrs. Smith’s only remark, and she relapsed into pre- occupied silence. Her son and daughter talked intermittently. “Saw you on Market Street,”” hazarded the boy. ‘See me there?” Cabell started. Market Street! Suppose he’d seen her with Lance Christie? ‘‘Me on Market Street?” she man- aged with wide eyes. “Yeh. Standing on the corner, yapping at the scenery,” grinned Doug. Something was evidently off his mind. ““O-oh! Oh, yes. I was waiting for Stelle. She—took a message to one of those funny shops.”’ In reality she had been waiting for Lance Christie. They had thought rit Get ee ee

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te Pp —- — ——————s = ead THE SATURDAY EVENING POST nobody ever walked along Market. ‘‘What were doing?” you He inspected his salad. ‘‘Why—lI was just going along Got any money, Cab?” ‘Money? Help! “Well, ’s anything the matter with mom? Safe to make a touch?” ‘I want ‘Aw, gimme first Doug chance. | some too, I’m flat.” need it. You always get Say, mom, can’t I have some money?” Why, can I have Dense ? ‘What's that? how much?” ‘How much “*What for, You’ve overdrawn your allow- ance now Her explained that you tnrougn a te les« ope All the other His mother’s thin | ps twitched. couldn’t see his allowance fellows got twice that. ‘You're treated abom- How about five dollars She talked with a brief nod at Douglas at her elbow coaxed sol iably, poor child rose as she spoke and out, those directly under her eagle eye. under his breath; hi heavy lashes dropped over his gray eyes that he might not have to notice his fellow diners. Cabell lagged behind, flashing her fascinating smile here ind there “Oh, Mrs. Allesby, how lovely to see you down again! We’ve missed you so much! . . . How’s the sore arm, doctor? . . So? Keep it up. What a darling blouse, Cora! Make it yourself? Wish I was smart!” She closed the reen door after her exit aid exit being brilliant smile thrown over one slim inced that her going had been like the room. accompanied by a houlder—fully cor withdrawal of sunlight ‘Hey, elevator. from the boot it along!”’ urged Douglas from the waiting Mrs. Smith closing the apart- ment door indicated the mission « but did not seat herself. ‘I’ve been going to tell you for some time, but somehow —at any rate I must tell you now. You know Mr. Brewster Vallace Brewster?” ‘Running for governor,” said Douglas. “Sit down, both of you.” } . nalrs, A Moment Later Wailace Brewster Came In. one that comes here sometimes?” from Cabell ‘Yes. Well, I’m going—he—that is, we're going married.”” She ht it out with some irritation. prided herself on always speaking to the point. Such a thing had never remotely occurred to either They couldn't quite believe it. Mr. Brewster had called not more than twice—-or was it three times? ‘Well—when?” gasped Cabell. ‘Married! What for?” from Douglas. ‘The to he broug She **Soon.”” Their mother had the faintest color in her brown cheeks. ‘‘As soon as election’s over. About two weeks now.” *‘But—isn’t it sudden?” ‘Not so ne sudden. Mr. Brewster and I are old friends. Since before eithe r of you was born. He’s been ur ‘ging this for three years.” “When did he get a chance? He doesn’t come here very often ‘He is general counsel for the firm.” That conveyed nothing illuminating probably didn’t know she had charge Overbeck & Collins, and went to Brewster's office every Monday A storm of questions broke upon her. If Mr. Brew was elected governor, would they all live in the natorial Oh, baby! They could come school in one . his cars, coulc in’t the y? “You'd hardly expect the daughter of a governor to hang to a strap! Oh, won’t the girls be furious! My, I can’t wait to tell them. They of collections for ter gube r mansion? out to own car.” ‘He’ll not necessarily give you anything. ask for anything. Cabell, put your feet down! tight skirt ud ‘Isn’t he rich?” “He has some money. in this election and he may not win. ‘““What’'ll we do if he doesn’t win? to know. ‘He will go back to the law. Street. We may decide to live there. You mustn't In that He’s been under a great expense Douglas wanted He has a house on Pearl 4° I wonder if he’ll give us each our” 17 ‘Wouldn't it be maddening if he didn’t get in? Oh, mamma, shall we all t: his name Cabell Brewster! That o much classier than Smit! Gee, Cab, course we won't get his nan Don't you know anything?’ Mrs. Smith agreed dispassionate) “You—like } don’t you?” She was self-consciou She had never cussed emotion with the childret Ol ire. He was all right. TI didi ar about him ‘He’s coming to-night. I want you t ce to hin Which Cabell considered most unnecessary advice. She intended to be the sweetest little daughter in the world Mr. Brewster would be utterly captivated and would insist on her presence everywhere, stating he found he made better peeches when he could look down at his golder haired inspiration. Cabell’s idea of a governor was a mar who devoted all his time to making peeche Her mother might come to be a little Jealous perhap The thought touched the edges of her lips with a smile “Won't we need more mone f we belong to the g ernor?”’ asked Do igla ‘My dear child! What for ‘Well, looks funny for a fellow to keep asking the time ” ‘You shall each have a f } iding,’” prom ised their mother. jut you're not ment mone to Mr. Brewster Here’s that five, Do Cabell rushed into eager que tl vedd Could she be bride: ( he have a ren colored satin and carry laurel and wear a ith of ga leaves? Doug would have to give mamma awa ‘The wedding will be very informal. It’s: ece for me to be given away at my ag You i eanew frock of course, if you're willing to dress like a schoolgir and not a grass widow. . . . Wa that our bel It was. A moment later Wallace Brewster came in Cabell and Dougla irveyed him with ne intere Tall, erect, soldierly, with very thick, ver hite hai ‘ (Continued on Page 76 Cabell and Douglas Surveyed Him With New Interest

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18 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST The First Lady of Cran 1c like philosophies, hav By Richard Matthews Hallet much to do with causes and ef fect heretore, as am ng cau itr our tale, tet it be et ° down and known f truth that Captain Hat I'yvler had been, in tyr annous and unjust wise relieved of command o her hip, the Minnie Wilham Yet this, the moving cause, wa n tseilf an effect, fl may be believed Nay the philosophers asseverate that in a sense truly profound every cause is n some measure the ef fect of its effect, and every effect the cause If there } no effect how could , of its cause there have been a cause Let us look then first at the effect of the effect, and next at the cause of the cause. Certain it is that at the instance of Mr. James Rackby, owner of the Minnie Williams, Mrs. Tyler came ashore one summer’s evening, bag and baggage, as those who saw her come affirmed Outrage was manifest in all her giant frame “The gall of the man! The unparalleled gall of him!” she said, sitting in Lena Kidder’s bakeshop in her shoregoing hat, and with her skirt of broadcloth rumpled round those massive, slightly bowed, seagoing legs. She was doing justice to a good meal of victuals, which had been placed for her at the table in the front window, where all men might see that no act of Mr. Rackby’s, however low, however de- graded, could make her lose her appetite by so much as one new potato or one dish of spinach heaped mountain high and drowned in vinegar. As she was free to say, and did say freely, if she had a dollar for every time she had wished that man at the bottom of the sea in the last three or four months she would never have to lift her hand again in the way of work. Mrs. Kidder inquired in her sympathetic tones: ‘How did he approach the subject, Hat?” “T guess there wasn’t much in the nature of an ap- proach,”’ Mrs. Tyler answered bitterly. ‘‘ My heavens, if I had run his ship aground, or alienated his affections, or candalized him in any way, shape or manner, I don’t say but what he might have had reason on his side; but noth- ing of that kind took place. What does he do but just walks himself aboard and says in that nasty voice of his that he guesses he can dispense with my services hence- forth.” “He hadn't been drinking, had he, Hat?” “No, he’s too cussed mean to drink,” retorted Hat. “Oh, the more I think of it the worse my blood boils! Just you think, for one thing, of his waiting until I had seen my husband off on that coaster going to South Amer- ca, and then watching his chance and taking it out on an unprotected woman.” “IT will bet you can give as good as they send, when it comes to that.”’ spoke up another, a lumpy-jawed man at one of the less well-lighted tables. This was Mr. Patrick Whalen, a pugilist, a one-time state champion in fact, known to fame under the style of the Megunticook Aasassin. He was known to Hat of old. Indeed, he still owed her a bill for furniture bought of her when she and Tyler broke up housekeeping to go to sea. This furniture wis now, with the rest of his effects, stored on board his scow, or house boat, which was anchored off Cranberry Isle “When I want an opinion I'll ask for it, Mr. Whalen,” Mrs. Tyler said with cool insolence. Addressing herself exclusively to Mrs. Kidder she continued: “ Don’t that how what part of a man he is? **I was combing out my head at the time, and I know I was just dancing, hopping mad enough to have hung him by the neck until dead, with my own hair for a rope, and I told him so too.”’ “Trust you,” muttered the Assassin, falling off a little in politeness “You look out, will you, that you don’t get a dose of the same medicine,”’ Mrs. Tyler said heavily without looking round. “I said to him: ‘Think twice, Mister Man, that’s my best advice to you, because if once I set my foot on shore it’ll take all the king’s horses and all the king’s men to get me back again. It’s easier to set something going than it is to stop it in this world,’ I says.” ‘I guess you are proof enough of that proposition without looking any farther,” said the Assassin, scroug- ing his neck down into the turtle neck of his red “ sweater. Captain Hat Tyler Had Been, in Tyrannous and Unjust Wise, Relieved of Command of Her Ship, the Minnie Williams “‘T guess you'll find it so if you go on as you are going,” said the sea captain in organ tones. ‘I have set better men than you are by the ears, in times past. If the time ever comes that I have to stand and deliver every time a string of a man like you opens his head I'll sell out for little or nothing.” “There, there, deary,’’ Mrs. Kidder uttered soothingly. “Well, it'll do you good to stop on terra firma for a little and make up some of the beauty sleep you lost getting up so often in the middle of the winter nights. I don’t believe a woman ought to make a practice of going to sea myself. She doesn’t get enough electricity intc herfrom theship’s deck.” Hat raised her big fist. “There’s enough electricity left in me to settle that man’s hash if I hear he’s been talking about me behind my back. And another thing—I'd like to see the man that I would allow to talk twice to me in that strain either. Show him to me, that’s all I ask of you.” Her eyes rested on the Assassin, who said satirically: “Ain't that a pretty good imitation of a dog barking twenty miles off?” and went out and slammed the door. “T'll have him down off his high horse if he isn’t care- ful,” said Hat. “What is he trying to get off anyway? He needn’t think because he can punch a bagful of wind a little while three times a day that he can lord jit over me, because he can’t.” “He'll be all right to-morrow,” said Lena Kidder. “He got out on the wrong side of the bed this morning, that’s all.” You let him cross me once more in my present mood,” said Mrs. Tyler, ‘“‘and I'll put him where there won’t be any call for him to get out of bed at all for some time to come. Champion! I'll champion him!” “I shouldn’t wonder if he was at the bottom of the whole business,” said Mrs. Kidder thoughtfully. ‘I hap- pen to know through Kidder that they were talking the woman question down at the Tall Stove Club the other night, the way the men do eternally when we’re not round, It seems they were discussing that case of husband beating they had up in the criminal calendar, and Pat W halen said we didn’t have to look that far away from home November 29, 19/19 Isle fora case of where a woman had aman right under her thumb, and they all looked at Rackby and laughed.”’ “They did, did they?” ‘*Well, you know how Jim is, weak as water —— “Aha,” said Hat with a wicked accent, “so that’s the sum and substance of it, is it? Whalen is one of these kind that think they wouldn’t be ruled by a woman, just be- cause he can handle that spineless creature he’s got under his own roof, that thinks the sun rises and sets in him. I guess it’s about time he was taken in hand.” “‘He’s leaving town, I hear,’”’ said Mrs. Kidder. ‘‘His wife has already gone on ahead to Roger’s Inlet to look up a sparring partner for him. You know he has one of his bouts coming on in a few weeks, if only they can get over the political hitch. I heard him talking it over with Elmer Higgins in here the other day. You know Elmer has been mingling with the politicians lately.” Mrs. Tyler fixed her eye on Cranberry Isle, which, by a kind of mirage usual with it at this time of day, was raised a foot or two above the horizon line, and seemed to float more like a radiant cloud than a substantial island. “I guess that’s the first thing that wants tending to, Lena,” she uttered grimly. ‘‘A stitch in time saves nine.” Let us now notice briefly how it is that an effect becomes a cause in its turn, for in our capacity we are privileged to see the world and all its mirages and illusions under the form of eternity, to use the words of the illustrious Jew of Amsterdam. Elmer Higgins was keeping bachelor’s house about this time, his wife and daughter having gone away to the city to get together clothes for that young lady’s nuptials. For the most part he got his meals at Mr. Furlong’s. A few nights after the coming ashore of Mrs. Tyler he said to Neeze, who was sliding a clam chowder under his nose: “How about a mess of short lobsters for a change?” “How about the danger end of it?’’ Neeze [Fer in his turn in- _ quired. ‘What with a fine of five dollars a lobster and a jail term for conspiracy to defeat the statute a man is put to it to see how he is com- ing out when that he has goods like that on the premises.” “There ain’t anybody that I know of charged with a duty of keeping watch but the fish warden,” said Elmer, “and he is asleep most of the time in his wheelbarrow, ain't he?” “Still,” said Neeze, ‘‘where a house is above suspicion it is just as well to steer clear. I did get myself into a box, it appeared like, about three nights back, when that Pat Whalen come in here drunk; and what possessed him to try to sell me a bag of short lobsters I don’t know. I mistrusted I would get one of these Fail-not-on-your-peril notes from the county seat if I dickered with anyone as liable to blart as he was in that condition, so down I leaned to where he was and I said to him: ‘Mr. Whalen, you ain’t in no condition to sell lobsters, and you know it as well as I do—well, almost as well,’ I says. “So he stood thinking on it, and pretty soon he says: ‘T’ll just dodge in on my way back along, then,’ and off he went, convinced, as I supposed; and thinks I to myself: ‘Good riddance, if ever there was one.’ I couldn’t see him for a spell on account of that quirk they is in the road, but my soul, in two shakes of a lamb’s tail back he come tearing with a crocus bag bulging with them, and into the shop with them, and propped them up right where you are sitting, like so much sawdust. I over the counter, and out through that screen door in less time than it takes to tell, and who should I see but*that long fish warden wheeling his wheelbarrow along,sad. Thinks I: ‘Isnummy, now I am in a quandary.’ So I hauled that prize fighter into the back shop by the slack of his pants, as much as anything, and I out with those shorts onto a pile of rub- bish I had in the alley, and slung boards over them; and then I back out into the front shop with him, and what I said to him was aplenty. There he was standing, and holding onto the door just as a matter of precaution— same as you have got your arm out to the wall—and I hooked my foot into that door like a good one, and down he went, and the dog on top of him. As a general thing if they don’t finish me at one slop I can calculate on the dog coming in. —-s

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Ee . SS ee ee ee | THE SATURDAY EVENING POST 19 ***T’ll see if you'll offer to sell me short lobsters again,’ I says to him; but he see who was top dog for once, and he warn’t in any condition to resent it, and then again the dog encouraged him to go away, too, and that was the larst I saw of him for that time. “I didn’t go near those lobsters till night howsomever. If Mrs. Furlong had known they were in the house she wouldn’t have slept no more than if there had been a corpse wilting under the cellar stairs. ‘Murder will out,’ she says. But as soon as she was tucked into her downy I brought em in and cracked ’em and shredded the meats into that stone jar I got marked ‘Leeches’ that the apothe- cary threw away, and I put the shells in the fire, and says I to myself: ‘Now, Mr. Pat Whalen, you ain’t done such a bad day’s business for me after all, as it turns out, and if youll come round here in a sober frame of mind you'll get your pay.’ “So I didn’t think no more of it until next night about sundown, when I was out here filling the sugar bowls, and picking out a splinter here and there, and I looked out the door and who should I see but Whalen paddling along in the middle of the street with his eye on my place. Well, say, when that he catched my eye he braced up, and come about and puffed all out, the way that fish they call the robin fish will puff out and get squintish when you touch your foot to it. So when I see he meant business I begun to feel a little cold, and I dropped the dishrag and sung out to the girl: ‘You better dust out of here as quick as the Lord will let you. There’s going to be terrible trouble in just about a minute.’ “So she dusted, and in he boomed. Well, say, the minute he set foot inside the door he struck an attitude and he says to me: ‘My name’s Pat Whalen, and I’m forty-three years old come August next, and I weigh 195 in the altogether, and I haven’t been licked before by any man of my weight in this state except one or two,’ he says. ‘Now then,’ he says, ‘you give me a good licking last night, mister.’ “Understand, I was looking out at him through that round hole I had cut me in the door, and I was a-quaking like a dog after a bath, and my heart a-pounding, but when that I could pluck up courage ‘I whisked open the door and out I basted like fluging, and up I come inside his arms, and my two fists shaking with fear, much as anything, and I hollers out: ‘Yes, and I can do it again!’ “*Wait a minute,’ he says, hauling off. ‘I want to tell you that you done just right, Neeze.’ “Well, say, after being screwed up that way in expecta- tion of a battle royal it was just as if he had throwed so much cold water in my face. I went as limp as that boardful of dough you see there stretched across the head of the fish barrel. Well, to show you how he took the tuck out of me, I had to squat down a minute in a chair and kind of let myself go before I could get recruited up again. “So then I went in and got out his old sooth hat that I had basted his skull with and gave it to him, and when he see I was squaring accounts he reached in and brought this salt shaker out of his pocket, and I begun to see where all my salt shakers had disappeared to in the past. “*For a big man, ain’t you awful kind of reason- able,’ I says. ‘*T ain’t the man I was,’ he says to me. “* Ain’t you enjoying your religion, or what?’ I says. ““*Neeze,’ he says, ‘I ain’t my own man any more, that’s the God’s truth.’ “So then he begun to draw back one foot to a time, awful kind of bashful for him, and when he come abreast of the door he whispers: ‘Any lobsters I bring you in the future, drunk or sober, Neeze, it’s policy to take ’em in if I got any judgment left at all,’ he says. Now what kind of a rigmarole is that for a starter?” “It’s jest the gospel truth, Neeze,”’ said Elmer, tweak- ing a hair out of his nostril. “It’s policy, the way he says. Why, don’t you know who the party is that he is acting for?’”’ “Not from Adam,” said Neeze promptly. “It’s Hat Tyler, Neeze.”’ The fresh color ebbed from Mr. Furlong’s face. ‘‘ You don’t say!” he murmured, perfectly appalled. ‘Just when I was beginning to get where I could see daylight ahead in a few strokes more, and then to fetch up calamity like this. What—what is the arrangement she has made with him, Elmer?” “‘She’s turned the man bodily out of his scow, in the first place,’ answ_red Eimer, chuckling. “No!” ejaculated Neeze. ‘Not the champion!” Thunderstruck, he covered his emotion by cutting his customer a piece of marble cake, first running his chicken- wing feather duster lightly over the variegated frosting. “Gospel,” nodded Elmer. “She told me herself that she had all but pitched him off neck and crop, champion or no champion.” ‘Anything never loses in the telling with her,” Neeze muttered, but it was easy to see that he had no heart to oppose the likelihood of such news. In sober truth Elmer’s report was very near the truth. The Assassin’s scow was tied up to the wharf end in the north cove at Cranberry Isle, loaded to the rails with his effects. On the night following Hat’s discharge he found himself rowing back from town in a small skiff at about the hour of the sun’s setting. On rounding the point it seemed to him that he smelt this smell of mackerel frying at the head of the cove, but he kept on plying his oars. The smell of mackerel increased in his nostrils to such an extent that at length he was moved to slue himself round on the thwart; and to his amazement he saw smoke pouring out of the crooked stack which came up through the roof of the scow’s galley. Otherwise his property seemed quite abandoned. It was a fine solid structure, iron bound and ring hung at the four corners, with a rudder as big as a barn door, and lace curtains, somewhat frayed, at the windows of the cabin. His first thought was that some of the pull-and-be damned tribe were in there helping themselves in his “I Hooked My Ps Foot Into That . Door Like a \ a Good One, and Down He Went, and the Dog on Top of Him absence, and he came on, rattling the oars briskly and growing hotter under the collar with each stroke. Siding with the scow he was up onto her deck in jig time, and, indeed, he was halfway down the companionway, which consisted of three worn steps, be fore he saw anything to give him pause. Then indeed he paused. At the foot of the companion way he had leaned temporarily » of lo used by wives, sisters and sweethearts for looking pre cariously backward down their spines to see if petticoat peep out anywhere, and how skirts are one of the furnishings that Hat had \ broke up, and now what was his amaze to see Hat herse reflected there, standing on that red linoleum of his in het stocking feet, very much down at heel, and with her big toe sticking out. She was frying stove, as cool as cool. mirror a fresh mackerel on hi As soon as she saw, by looking in the mirror herself, who it was that was darkening the do are you—in stays, mister?”’ “Oh, are you here?” the Assassin said in his politest tones, He had a dreadful sense of having a di his premises, and even on his hands, it mig] “Considerably so,” said Mrs. Tyler, with : I robin fish herself. ‘‘ As big as life and two times as natural.” Casting about for something crushing in the way of rejoinder Mr. Whalen could think of nothing better to say than “Do you find everything you want, I wonder?” “Tf I don’t, I'll ask for it. I’ve got a tongue in my head The Assassin was still satisfied to use the mirror as visual interpreter of these threatening fair proportions, but by now he was getting his second wind in the affair, and he told himself that there was nothing here for a barrel chested man to be afraid of. All he had to do was to get mad enough to forget that he was dealing with : one of the opposite sex—and throwing chivalry to the winds put his trust in his natural power Therefore, with a retraction of his upper lip he said “‘I suppose you think you're here to stay, missis.” Hat turned the mackerel over in the spider befor troubling herself to say in answer: ‘‘ While the lamp hold out to burn, yes.” “Well,” rejoined the Assassin, gritting his teeth, whil the blood went swarming in his cauliflower ear, “you're liable to get your expectations dashed, young woman.” “You look out, will you,” retorted Hat, “that don’t get your brains in the same box with my expecta tions.” ' “‘Homely thing, do a quick job,” yelled Whaler “Tf homeliness is any sign of speed you are done befor you begin,” shrieked Hat, picking up the spider wit! contents in a gingery hand. ‘Well, now you try it I hear you’ve been going round making your brags t)! you wouldn’t be ruled by a woman, and I’m just going see what it all amounts to.” The Assassin looked out o before coming ba to say, craftily: “Look here, Hat, that wasn’t any more than what slipped out in the course of conversation, for the time being.” “Oh, is that so? Well, you take it out in conversation, will you? I feel quite at home here. This isn’t the first time nor the only way I’ve seer yself in t n : for that matter. I haven’t always had to tog myself out like this. Any time you see fit to pay me that bill for furniture I'll vacate, but until you do, Mister Man, just you have the goodness to seek other quarter “Now just suppose for the sake of argu- ment,” said the Assassin in a whit “that I don’t choose to do ar the kind.” He let his midriff sink in, and forced up the floating ribs in the general direction of his massive pectoral! “Just you step your foot round tl corner and I'll give you the answer or I pe rish in the atte mpt one or the other of the two things,” said Mrs. Tyler. -_ = “Well, say, did he round the corner?” inquired Mr. Furlong when Elmer, aft enlightening him thus far, addressed } self to his cooling chowder “It seems he was afraid of making a move toward hav fear of breaking t} down seven lean years onto him out to, though, and if it hadn’t be that pesky glass was situated jest where it was he would have pitched into her good. So he jest said: ‘You wait till I catch you ashore once,’ and off he went and liquored up.” “Ain’t it possible, Elmer, he might come off second best ashore?” “T don’t doubt it a mite. I’ve beer shipmatés with that woman, and I know Continued on Page 165

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Basil p £ of it,’ inter ruj ted the tall broad houldered blond n who had dthe private office of the president ol he Music Company eighth floor of one of ouny ma ju enters Merriweather on the the older buildings on lower Broadway ‘Don't mind me old mat he added a he began a hasty exam ination of the mail be fore him, which had already been opened I'm in a rotten mood this morning, and that fool moniker gets on my nerve Make it Dick when we're alone, THE gE CAN By Edith Hulbert Hamultom ITLLUSTRATEDO Br H. I warned side Benson’s bounds.” severidge shook his head. ‘*‘ Noth- ing of that sort—yet. But the whole scheme’s pretty close to the fly-by- night class, and you know it. Not one " of our clients has a chance in a thou- sand to get back the money he’s put up—or she’s put up for they’re mostly shes. That’s the worst of it.”’ “Well, who’s to blame for that?” demanded Graftleigh. “If thesong doesn’t go because the you, you know, to keep in- verses are bum it’s the client's fault, and if the music’s punk it’s your fault. No use kick- ing to me. I 4 haven’t reneged

on my end. “Gad, Bas- sy,” he went on In a more con- ciliatory tone, “your grouch has nearly knocked the good news out of my head! This isn’t so much of a pik- <s er’s game as you think. AsI can't you? It’s bad enough to started to tell figure in a piker’s game like you when you went this, without posing as the hero ; off at a tangent, of a penny dreadful. Or is it Ewa eleven signed con- the villain to whom the dis Bs.ntige : tracts have come in tressed damsel shrieks ‘Oh, ! } bts % fe a. this week with eleven Basil! Basil! If you are false ' ‘ r Z post-office orders for to me my life is over’? At any rate his forty dollars each. " 7 “ener . Ms , name is Basil— has been for centuries ~ reston Jay ly Form Letter Number If | hadn't been asleep when you doped out those form letters you never would have uck that label on me Sorry it worri you,” retorted the other with a grin. “Too late to change it now Besides, it’s there with the at I call it one of my What better bait mosphere all right happiest thought could there be for the England spinster than this paragraph from Form Letter Number Two u © strongly that ‘Your verses appeal to should you decide to enter into an agreement with us we will have them set to music by Mr. Basil Beveridge, the most popular and talented young song writer on our staff. Mr. Beveridge is already well known in musical circles, and the gifted young composer is rapidly making a name for himself in this particular branch of the noble art to which he is devoting his life’?"’ When it come glancing up from h to atmosphere growled Beveridge, task of sorting manuscripts, ‘if some f these New England spinsters begin to dabble with law- vers and the thing gets into court William Graftleigh won't be such a bad touch of local color for the reporters, will it?” The president of the Merriweather Music Company laughed a trifle uneasily I'he blue devils have sure got you this morning, Bassy. New England spinsters with poetic proclivities don’t dabble with lawyers. It’s most unmaidenly. And let me tell you it would take some little lawyer to get the Merri- weather Music Company, if that’s what you mean by thing,’ into any court in this town, Benson, who fixed up uur articles of incorporation and contracts, is a regular hark, and we've never sent out a form letter that he hasn't O. K'd. There ‘t a legal flaw in the whole outfit. I'd take my last dollar on that. And we can prove we have ept, to the le er, ever Letter’ is good y promise made to a client.” How about the spirit? That's a matter of personal equation and cuts no ice busine deal What's eating you anyway, Bassy? Made some slip with the Verdi? Anybody after you? “wey 7 ““Minnie,"’ Stammered Beveridge, “I Know I'ma Cad and a Brute, But Thete's Something 1 Must Say to entimental New You. 1 Will Wait for You Downstairs"*

Two surely gets the ic ladies. There’s only one man in the bunch. Do you re- alize that all we have to do is to keep going at this rate, and in a few months we'll be on Easy Street, with a couple of cars, bigger offices, a hired man to help patch up the lyrics over in Philadelphia in the Verdi place and an office manager for this joint? You can take your temperament out of moth balls then, Bassy, and write the great American opera, and I can be a gentleman once more.” “Sounds good. How do you dope it out?” “Easy as ABC. It’s a little over four months since we opened the offices and started our active campaign. We’re on the second week of the fifth month, to be exact, and have managed to cover expenses, including our drawing accounts of twenty-five dollars a week. In fact, we’ve made out a lot better than ventures of this sort usually do in the beginning. Figuring rent at two hundred dollars; stenographers and office boys two hundred and sixty dol- lars; lights, telephones and general supplies another hundred dollars; and installments on furniture forty dollars — it takes about six hundred dollars a month to run the two offices. Allowing each of us a salary of two hun- dred brings the total to a thousand. ““Now then, according to your arrangements with the printer, the total cost of getting out a song is not more than ten dollars, which leaves a margin of thirty dollars on each contract. Ergo, thirty-five contracts a month will keep us solvent, and provide simple food, lodging and car fare. Fifty contracts a month furnish four hundred and fifty dollars in the way of velvet, and seventy-five a month, or about eighteen a week, will give a clean profit of about twelve hundred dollars a month, or fourteen thousand four hundred annually, which, being halved, Bassy old top, is seventy-two hundred. Oh, I know you've heard some of this before. The point in summing it up at this particular SATURDAY EVENING POST November 29, 19/9 WRITE

moment lies in the fact I just mentioned that eleven con- tracts have dropped in upon us in three days. Seven more in the next three will keep us up to our schedule of seventy-five a month.” Beveridge was silent. ““What’s the matter now? Isn’t seventy-two hundred dollars a year plus a salary of twenty-five hundred enough to run a duplex studio; or are these simple calculations too much for the artistic brain?” “Oh, I suppose I’m making an ass of myself, Bill. We're in the thing too deep now to pull out, and there’s nothing to do but go ahead and make the best of it.”’ “Pull out!” echoed Graftleigh. “‘Who wants to pull out? Your remarks might have been timely two weeks ago, but just now they’re an anachronism. Come here and look over the contracts. Miss Middleton has attached the proper poem to each one, and you might as well get busy on the melodies. It won't do to let them stack up now they’re coming in so fast. Remember we guarantee to sub- mit the manuscript of the music within three weeks after the receipt of the contract, and the duplicates have already been signed and sent out.” Beveridge took the papers which Graftleigh held out to him, dropped into the swivel chair opposite his partner, glanced hastily over several sets of verses, only one of which was typed, selected one for a second reading and proceeded to make a series of curves and dashes on a large yellow pad. Suddenly he flung his fountain pen on the floor and buried his face in his hands. “It’s no use,” he groaned; “I can’t forget them.” “Forget what?” asked Graftleigh in a tone of mild surprise. . WESTON TAYLOR “These cursed verses. Listen: “IT dreamed last night that you clasped me Close, close to your throbbing heart. The love light shone in your eyes, You :vwed that we never should part. “T woke with a sob at the dawning ( if another desolate day. No voice responds to my call, My lover 4s too far away. “Tf only once you had kissed me es “Hold!” cried Graftleigh. ‘‘That’s great stuff, but don’t run it off so fast. Read the first stanza again. Read it twice. “Just as I thought!”’ he exclaimed triumphantly after Beveridge had complied with his request. “‘ Fits it to a T.” “Fits what?” “Why, Annie Laurie, you big stiff. Just change ‘never’ in the fourth line to ‘ne’er’, and any schoolgirl could trill it off to the old tune. Try it yourself.” “T don’t believe any normal human being could trill that drivel off to any tune. But I don’t get you. You are not suggesting that we should offer Annie Laurie as an original melody, are you?” “Not exactly. But there’s no harm in borrowing the swing of it, and perhaps a phrase or two. It’s done all the time. Why should the theme of every piece of music be absolutely original, any more than the plot of every story or every play? Doesn't Kipling explain somewhere that old Homer got his reputation by dressing up a lot of old situations? You're not trying to tell me, Bassy, that you've been beating our brand-new stuff for each lyric all these weeks? I haven't asked questions, because | thought you didn’t want me to butt in on the artistic end, but you sure need a guardian. What are those hiero- glyphics on your pad?” Beveridge looked a trifle sheepish. ‘“‘Just scansion marks. You see, Bill, when I have this slush in front of me the only thing I could possibly invent is a new cuss word. So I block them out and build up the tunes from the skeleton. It’s not a very inspiring method, but it’s the best I can do with the sort of rot you’ve been putting over on me.” “T’ve been putting over on you! Sakes alive man, I didn’t write them. I can’t inoculate the entire country with the divine spark. But I’ve made things as easy as I can for you by sticking that clause in the contract giving our lyric editor authority to ‘make any change necessary to adapt the song to the requirements of vocalization.’ You can rewrite every line if you want to. Make them as high- brow as you please. Only for your own sake I advise you not to tamper with them except where the meter needs repairs. I have a hunch that digging up melodies will take about all your spare time from now on. The lyric you just read doesn’t need a thing done to it—has a very decent 4 z F ‘4

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h THE SATURDAY EVENING POST 21 gait. Who cares about the words anyway? The tune is “Yes; the Mr. Beveridge whose name is mentioned in ‘*Perhaps,”’ said the first female voice dryly, ‘tl the thing. What’s next?” your contracts.” documents which I } received from your company Ww “This gem,” said Beveridge “Oh, you mean the composer. Mr. Beveridge has no explain it better tha ild No, young womar n , > office here.” I don’t propose to le leave my hand The age band will meet you, Bob ~ en : tee | 7 ’ Where is his office It is not necessary, madam,” replied the second femal When you come home from France : : ; : pe Tie muatitest side snttl evand aeoued “Mr. Beveridge has a studio in Philadelphia. It voice stiffly. ‘I merely wish to see the file numbe Pha To beg you for a dance against our rules to give the addresses of members of our you. Miss Reynold I 1} RB editorial staff, but any letters sent here will be forwarded “Yes, M Middleton.”” The third female voice rey } heap ‘ to him istered profound respect ro hose that greet you ther ‘ : : : "T iti a ; vn / Do you mean to say that I shall have to go to Philadel- ‘Bring me the correspondence of File 278 | ath oll eile meetin, * phia in order to see Mr. Beveridge What's 278 | echoed Beveridge in a faint whispe e / “TI have no knowledge of Mr Beveridge’s « ngagements, “We began with 274 F,” explained Graftleig! “Yes, I remember that one. I spent about half an hour madam, and no authority to arrange any interview for “If you have quite finished,” resumed the first femal ing over this bunct before you came in.” him As I have already told you, however, any com- voice er another silence, ~ perhay you will ask M **And what classic does this fit?”’ munication ad Graftleigh to come out and explain why he hasn’t complied ““Mean to say you don’t know?” “That will do,” interrupted the first female voice dis- with the terms of his contract.” Haven’t thought.” dainfully “‘T have charge of the inquiry department, madam,” re ‘Should auld acquaintance be forgot, and never brought ‘IT didn’t come two hundred miles to listen to that sort plied Miss Middleton, ‘‘and I see nothing in this corr ang Graftleigh in a small but not unpleasing of twaddle I have several important appointments n yourself.’’ elf befo “Ve ny work any easier.’ that Miss Abby Goodell, of Housatonic, wants to see him, ‘Of course it does—just like following a pattern or and let him know that I’m in a hurry.” my train leaves, and I have wasted all the right, it does; but I’m not sure that makes time I intend to. Young woman, you tell Mr. Graftleig} irawing from a model, or—or—anything like that. Pity | “Ye gods, Bassy!” groaned Graftleigh. ‘“‘That type of | haven't a musical education, With my sense of rhythm I'd woman stops at nothing. She'll be in here in another grind out a tune every ten minutes. But I tell you what, minute. Middy can’t hold her. How about the fire Bassy: If the Verdi’s going to keep step with the Merri- escape?” weather you'll have to get wise to the fact that Home, “Will you please state your business, madam?” The in the royalty rate. Sweet Home, Way Down Upon the Swanee River, There'll second female voice retained its professional calm. : Be a Hot Time, Comin’ Thro’ the Rye, Annie Laurie, There was a moment’s silence, followed by a rustling of : hieh the t ! Drink to Me Only With Thine Eyes, the Lost Chord, the papers. Graftleigh and Beveridge listened breathlessly, se ted dialogue. Ther Spring Song, the Prison i Reynolds—tall Duet, Oh, Promise Me, lim, pallid, gray-eyed ind one ortwo of Sousa’ and auburt ured marches will give you tered the private office the ground plans for closed the door if every bloomin’ lyric behind her ud some that willever bewritten Here’ i case in point fore Graftleigt ind ght now the very bestowed an admiring next tune mu come to giance on Bever aye - : “Miss Middletor ‘aS J » you en é wishes to know , ‘ OT-Ci WW hes so) — : he begar the fi .. ‘You di t well Betty tid Graftleigh Shut up!” growled but an the est Beveridge, pointing to What the old bird the open transom. kick, anyhow? I dor Someone outside.”’ ‘Is Mr. Graftle 4 inquired a cri replied M Re id ear female voice prin that t el ‘Mr. Graftleigh is in you a song ea in No onference,”’ rep eda vember. ; i tha he econd female voice in had a let irom he conventional mono- iying Via e ol the tone of the well-trained finest th y 1 eve secretary. ‘‘Can I do read, and pror ng that anything for you?” if she would send u ‘I am afraid not. forty dolla i When will Mr. Graft- have appropriate eigh be at hert »” written forit and | ‘ It is impossible to published for } | say He has an impor- tnatit elua t tant appointment im- the count And . } mediately after the i t I 1 conf } ned « ‘ t fror eay 1 wi ! nave noon. If you will state your business I will see monev bacl whether he can give you Now ca bye ve minutes sometime that?”’eja itedG between two and leigh How | ‘ three.”’ Bett ’ Dor ( ‘My business is ! hief?"’ | purely personal.” Over fift { ‘i ‘“*I am sorry, but I Graftleig! A can't take your name he Lid met to Mr. Graftleigh unless b going f ‘ i I know the nature of | ‘ i) your business. He sees Look he | a i no one except by ap- that lv f i pointment.” for the m« y Gad, but Middy’s a ti type. Y go out ; gem !’’ whispered Graft ind gaze ’ 4 leigh “*T’ll get her a box he ‘ ‘ i 1 ex of chocolates when I goa pial to lunch.”’ Ni ir life 4 “Is Mr. Beveridge 1 Beveridge I P The first fe male voice web J | know | had taken on an addi- t gy about the bu ‘ | tional crispness. end of this proposit i “Mr. Beveridge?” Nice helpful partne | The second female voice nme - — you are. Perhaps Mid : was modified by a note It is, of Course, Ridiculous to Suppose That All the Details in Regard to the Melody and Accompaniment dieton can get rid of her ; of slight bew ilderment. Could be Settled at One Conference —or Two —or Three Continued on Page 102

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— + 22 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST ONE THOUSAND DIA November 29, 1919 MUIETERS By Stanley M. Rimehart, M. D. HEN Johnny Smith came home the other day with his foot cut—he had been run- ning barefoot—-Mrs Smith knew exactly what to do. She washed it thoroughly with seap and water, carefully cleansed the wound of dirt, applied tincture of iodine to it and bound it up with a first-aid dressing Nothing remarkable about that Any other sensible woman, especially anyone who has taken Red Cross work, would have done the same thing. But when Mrs. Smith was a child her mother would not have treated an injury in that manner. Though Mrs. Smith is less than forty, in her childhood they applied flaxseed and bacon rind and other kinds of vegetable or animal poultices to open wounds. And then when pus appeared, as it almost inevitably did, it was called laudable or praiseworthy. This difference in the treatment of so slight an injury as Johnny's cut is indicative of all the wonderful changes that have occurred in forty years in both medicine and surgery. Forty years ago operation wounds were almost never entirely closed. There was always a drain left in to allow the exit of the inevitable pus. And just as pus was once inevitable but is now considered unnecessary, so it is with many of the diseases that for centuries afflicted mankind. Many of these diseases have become only reminiscences episodes of history. They no longer appear and fatten and flourish at our expense And all these changes have been brought about by one thousand diameters. In other words, it was the perfection of the compound microscope that enabled men to see the minute structure of the body, and by magnifying at least one thousand times, or diameters, to bring within their vision the germ enemies of mankind. The advances in medical knowledge, though less spec- tacular, have been as great as those in surgery. Perhaps the most obvious instance of our progress in medicine is the change in our attitude toward malaria. Anyone who has lived in a flat marshy district can recall the sallowness of the older inhabitants. In their early days malaria—chills and fever —was 0 common an affliction that it was looked upon as a necessity. The drug stores could hardly keep stocked with quinine and calomel. Quinine and whisky went together in people’s minds—and into their stomachs also, just like hot cakes and molasses. In fact, many’a man met an untimely end because he tried to omit the quinine from the combination. The Winged Allies of Napoleon UT how many of the later generation have that yellow ) look? No one before the year 1899 knew that the para- sites of malaria attacked people from airships—that is, a certain kind of mosquito. Nor did anyone think of carbon oil as a means of prevention. And yet oil, spread upon the breeding places of mosquitoes, has made malaria a thing of the past. Malaria has been a great scourge of humanity. It has numbered millions among its victims. It has destroyed nations and submerged civilizations. History tells us that the downfall of Greece was due to the attacks of invading barbarians upon a decadent people. But their decadence resulted from an earlier invasion. There had always been marshes and mosquitoes in Greece. In the fifth century B. ©. malaria was introduced into the country, and the mosquitoes did the rest. When the barbarian hordes appeared they found the Greeks ripe for the harvest. The same thing occurred in Rome, but there another disease aided malaria in bringing down the mightiest If Johnny's Mother Shoutd Read This She Will be Thankful That She Lives in the Pres+ ent and Not in the Past Era of Medicine empire the world had ever seen. It was called the plague, but history is vague as to whether it was smallpox or an epidemic dysentery. Whatever it was, together they wrought the destruction of Rome. Hannibal brought over from Africa his Carthagenian mercenaries to conquer Rome. He did not accomplish his purpose, but the malaria that his soldiers brought with them finally destroyed the health of the people and made conquest easy for the Goths and Vandals. Physical deterioration of a people is always followed by mental and moral decay. Wherever in history one comes upon a healthy people, there one finds a people of high intellectual and moral standards. During the centuries that the Moors were in Spain they bore the flag of civiliza- tion. When they were compelled to go back to the debili- tating climate of Africa their moral and intellectual recession began. Once malaria won a great victory for Napoleon. In 1809 an expedition set out from Great Britain to capture Antwerp and the French fleet. There was quite a for- midable array of ships and soldiers, four hundred and seventy vessels and forty-four thousand men, and there was great anxiety in France. Napoleon, however, knew more about the country than the British, and he counted upon the aid of an ally of which the British were entirely ignorant. He ordered his generals to hold the enemy in check, but not to engage them in a decisive battle. And so the British were held for many days in the swampy region of the River Scheldt. There an ally of the French attacked them from the air. Mosquitoes inoculated them with malaria and the British casualties from this cause alone, in dead and sick, were twenty-seven thousand. The British expedition was defeated before it could engage the forces of Napoleon. The anopheles mosquito had caused more destruction to the British than Na- poleon’s army could have done. But no one at that time, or for many years after, knew the part the mosquito played in the campaign. In fact, until 1880 no one had known the cause of malaria, and the mosquito’s nefarious business was not discovered until nine years later. For that matter, it is the same with other diseases. Typhus fever, the bubonic plague, smallpox, tuberculosis— one could go through a whole list—all were known to the ancients; that is, their effects were known and the fact that they are transmissible, but there all knowledge stopped. Nearly all important discoveries of the causes, modes of transmission and means of prevention have been made within the past forty years. All thdse previous centuries men were helpless against these foes because they could not see them. They were fighting in the dark. And so concerning the things of which they were ignorant they built up superstitions, and doctors cloaked their ignorance with mystery and mysticism. About all there is left of that is our prescription Latin. But the mystery helped some, because it inspired Faith and her handmaiden, Hope, which are more potent than all the horrible concoctions of the ancients. With the exception of anatomy and physiology, the medicine of a little more than one hundred years ago was about the same as that of five hundred years B. c. All medical knowledge for centuries was at a standstill. If one were to compare the prescriptions in the Papyrus Ebers, which was written 3500 years ago, with those in medical books of the eighteenth century, he would discover striking similarities. This is because there was no knowledge of the causes of disease until the invention of the microscope, and medicine was lost in the fog of ignorance and super- stition, Suppose Johnny Smith, whose mother treated his cut so sensibly, had lived in the Middle Ages or at any period up to, say, fifty or a hundred years ago. His mother would have sent off posthaste for the nearest surgeon, or leech, as he was once called. In the meantime she would have given Johnny three, five or perhaps ten grains of calomel and a dose of oil and would have applied hot vegetable or animal poultices. And then the leech would have appeared, armed with a lancet and another kind of leeches. He would have bled him generously, perhaps more than once, and the leeches would have drained him still more. From a book published in 1745 here is the cold-blooded narrative of a licensed assassin as quoted by Mark Twain. The subject, or patient, had a headache, that is all: Leeches to the Ves- . . 2 ‘or 4} Verte s. sels of his Nostrils, Forehead and Temples, as also to those Behind his Ears; and likewise Prescrib’d the Application of Cupping-Glasses with Scarification, to his Back; But Notwithstanding these Precautions, he dy’d. If any Surgeon, Skilled in Arteriotomy had been Present, I should have Order’d that Operation. I, being called, Order’d Venesec tion in the Arms, the Application of Leeches, venesection, arteriotomy—all for the purpose of separating the victim from his blood! If Johnny’s mother should read this she will be thankful that she lives in the present and not in the past era of medicine, or “‘notwithstanding,”’ Johnny might have “‘dy’d.” The Awful Prescriptions of Long Ago OR centuries roots and herbs were prescribed because of their symbolic forms, and diseases were banished by incantations. If Johnny had lived in the seventeenth cen- tury and had chanced to have the whooping cough his mother could have found in a standard medical work the following information—archaic spelling omitted: For whooping cough, pass the child nine times over and under a donkey, from left to right. Mrs. Smith might have wondered what would happen if she got in reverse and passed Johnny from right to left. But she would not have chanced it —not in those days. While waiting for someone to produce a docile donkey that would consent to cure Johnny, perhaps Mrs. Smith idly turned the pages of the medical work. If she did she would have been interested in this: It is said that many have been cured of the falling evil by drinking of the powder of dead men’s skulles, burnt. The author did not say how one can drink a powder, but he was very particular to mention the kind of a “skulle” that should be used. But the skulle must be the skulle of one that hath been hanged or slain, and not of one that hath died of any sickness. One can imagine the medical student of those days, fired with a burning enthusiasm, yet shivering from fear, steal- ing out on a dark, stormy night to obtain the “skulle” of the latest victim of the crossroads gibbet. They were considerate enough to hang men —and women, too—at the crossroads, which made it easier for the doctors. Continued on Page 158)

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST 23 HEN the athletic committee of the Uni- versity of Pennsylvania broke the news By Bertram Lebhar to me that I was ineligible for a place on the varsity football team I felt that I had been dealt a blow from which I could never recover. I had been playing football for four years. During my senior year at the little ecclesiastic college from which I had just been graduated I was captain and coach of the eleven. I was six feet tall and tipped the scales at two hundred and three pounds. I held a state championship in weight throwing, a county wrestling championship and had broken the world’s record in the discus throw. With these recommen- dations I felt justified in nursing the ambition to win new and greater athletic honors at the big Philadelphia seat of learning to which I had come to study medicine. The ver- dict of the authorities that I was irrevocably barred from participation in intercollegiate contests under the four- year-limit rule was without exaggeration the cruelest dis- appointment I had ever suffered in all my existence. That, however, was more than a score of years ago. The other day I walked up to the cashier’s window of one of the largest New York banks and made inquiry as to my bal- ance. The amount the smiling cashier mentioned was in ix figures and the first figure was not the youngest member of the digit fan If I had not already long since forgiven llege athletic committee I should have done so then. that col For practically every dollar I possess and all that I have and am I owe to their ban of excommunication, which drove me into the field of professional athletics. Perhaps when I say that I was driven into professional- sm I am not stating the case quite fairly. Because I had been active in college sports for four years before I came to Pennsylvania I was denied an opportunity to compete the big games and meets, but of course that did not compel me to become a professional. I could have con- tented myself with playing football on the class elevens. I uld have looked on while men whom I knew I could throw went to the mat for our university in the intercol- legiate wrestling bouts. I could have paid my way through the medical school by doing the hard menial work of a anitor in the college basement or by getting a job as a waiter instead of capitalizing my physical strength and | joining a professional football team. Thereby I ined unsullied my reputation as a gentle- isappointment and bitterness, however, hletic ambitions crushed prompted me to J I man athlete. on finding my a take the fatal plunge. To that extent, at least, the four- year-limit rule—which had just about come into existence when I entered the university and of which I was in total ignorance— was responsible for the inception of my career as a pro. I was born on a farm of rich black Illinois mud and was the youngest and least husky of a The Fact That I Had Long Been Inured to Violent Contact With Plowed Land Served Me in Good Stead family of six children—all boys. At the age of fifteen I permanently stopped growing. As at that time, however, I had reached the height of six feet and weighed nearly two hundred pounds, it will be admitted that in my case Nature had done a hurried rather than a niggardly job. Our father, who was an old- fashioned son of the soil, was fairly prosperous, but he did not believe in a college educa- tion. In fact he was not very en- thusiastic about any education at all and counted that time lost whose low de- scending san did not find us out on the fields keeping up our end of the work withthe grown-up men. From the age of nine up to my seventeenth year I went through an endless grind of hard labor. At the end of that period I kicked over the traces and announced that I wanted to be a doctor of medicine and intended to start out immedi- ately for college. That precipitated a long and violent argument. But a week later I left home—without the paternal blessing and tramped barefooted eighty-five miles to the town of Greencastle, Indiana, where I applied for admission to the academy of DePauw University. My total resources consisted of eleven cents in cash, a pair of cotton overalls—which I was wearing—and my Sunday pants, which I carried rolled up in a paper package. However, I succeeded in convincing the school authorities of my ability to work my way through and when the next day I landed a job in the basement of a local department store pulling nails out of packing cases for fifteen cents an hour I was permitted to enroll as a student at the pre- paratory school. During my first year at the academy, in addi- tion to pulling nails for my tuition fees, I washed dishes in one of the dormitories for my board and did janitor work at Theologue Hall for my lodg- ing. Later I ran a boarding club and conducted a private gymnasium, and both these ventures proved so profitable that I had no difficulty in financing the remainder of my col lege course. Moreover, in spite of the demand these outside activities made on my spare time | managed to take a prominent part in the athletic life of the institution with- out falling behind in my class work. That I did not neglect my studies is evidenced by the fact that though the combined academic and college course was supposed to take seven years I succeeded in getting my bachelor-of-science degree in five years. Until my arrival at DePauw I had never seen a football, but I knew a thing or two about boxing and wrestling, particularly the lat ter. -Early in his youth my brother George, who was five years my senior, had come into possession of a handbeok on the art of catch-as-catch- can, and almost from the time I was able to talk he had been using me as a model on which to test the practicability of the helpful hints contained in the printed les- sons, The volume was generously illustrated with diagrams in which Figure A was shown in the act of accomplishing the downfail of Figure B. Being of an impulsive tempera ment, George would pounce on me whenever | ATHLETICS FOR COLD CASH I Went Out With the Scrub Team and Heiped Beat the Varsity Eleven warning as to hi the position of Figur came to | parti 1] \ satisfied with the r and in desperation was driven to an intensive study of the ntions would proceed to put me it B. As these impulses frequently 1 while we were following the horses across a plowed field, it was not long before I grew le of the second letter f the alphabet counter-holds and defensive tactic lescribed in the bool Eventually there came a day when George eased to be Figure A Not only was I able to throw him and our fou older brothers in succession, but at the end of my fifteentl year I went on the mat with the champion wrestler of our county and got two falls out of him in seven minute My wrestling experience and the fact that I had long been inured to violent contact wit} plowe 1 iand served me in good stead when I began my football care¢ During the four years that I played on the jlege team the news paper sporting editors paid me the compliment of vot me the best guard in the Central State In addition to representing DePauw on the gridiron I held a leading position on the track-and-field tean I fact, I made such a good record as an all-r i when I was graduated, Fred Stone, physical! director of the Chicago Athletic Club, who had refereed the last inter collegiate meet in which I appeared, urged me to come te Chicago and join his club, which was about to meet a picked team of the New York Athletic Club When I learned that I was to have hance to compete with some of the greatest amateurs in America — national champions whose names we had always mentioned with awe and veneration at college 1 eagerly accepted the invitation. And such was my rupulous regard for ath letic standards in those days and my horror of the taint of yrofessionalism that I insisted or paying my ow fare and other exper es to Chicago, though I should have had no great difficulty in “borrowing” the money It was at that dual meet at the Parkside Cricket Ground that I broke a world’s record in the weight I threw the discus 130 feet, defeating Flanagan, MeCracker heldor and other noted weight tossers I also won second place in the hammer throw, making a to f 148!'. feet; and | put the shot at 43 feet. No le in authority than Mike Murphy, who witnessed my performance with the ham mer, predicted that with a year’s proper training | should be able to make a throw of 180 feet When, therefore, at the end of t] went to the University of Pennsylva of becoming one of the great her« sport To be quite frank, it wa glory with me. I had shrewdly assessed the material value id rosy dream intercollegiate “a matter ol of a national reputation as a college athiete \ young physician with his way to make in the world, I told myself couldn't have a better asset than a di tinguished record a ym one of the Dig varsity elevens or as a football playe r star in the track-and-field contest In building up a pra¢ tice such fame would count for far more than all the honor Continued on Page i34

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24 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST THE GIRL ON TH He Looked in Vain for a Retenting Gleam in the Cold, Blue-Gray Eyes. By Kenyon Gambier RALEIGH iv HE Lord of the Manor of St. Dyfrigs, otherwise Trower Lingard of Chillicothe, Ohio, otherwise Sergeant Kellie Hill, of the British Army, owner of St. Dyfrigs Park, proprietor of St. Dyfrigs village, and possessor of Tydd's farm in Ohio, worked on sharing terms by his friend, Gil Hart, after an hour’s mel- ancholy brooding in the gazebo on the wall, rose and stared through the shuttered opening at the chimneys of the great mansion, his mansion. To go there now was to go as a heriff’s deputy with a writ of ejectment against an orphan girl who had lost a father, two brothers and a grandfather within four years He turned and looked over the village, his village, and at Turle’s cottage, his cottage. Just the same there; and that little home meant as much to Tom Turle and to Char- ity as the manor house meant to Dorothy. Perhaps it meant Their lives had been built on the founda tions of that cottage. It would be sacrilege to them that their home should fall back into the great estate and once again be owned by the squire The squire! He said the words aloud and broke into a flood of hysterical laughter He, him- self. He looked down at his dusty army boots; at his worn putties; at the old tunic, the sleeves of which did not even bear the chevrons of a sergeant. The squire! He laughed If he went back to Chillicothe and told them that, would they touch their hats? Si Hankin and Lem Burgess and Gil Hart would organize a vigilance committee and ride him on a rail, just to teach him manners and wish him luck in his new job more He was the squire again Ihe laugh did him good. Of course this absurdity could He could guess how it had happened. The Primogeniture would carry he corrected Lingards had made no wills the property down to the male heir just as they would have it descend. It would be easy to deed the estate to Dorothy, and the cottage to Tom and Charity. They could not help liking a fellow who promptly did the fair that. He felt that the welcome he craved was His spirits bounded. He smiled when he sitting on the bench beneath the thing lik loubly assured aw the schoolmaster tree lhe old chap was a little grayer, he thought, and a ittle more hunched, but smoked as comfortably as though all the world was at Roger ran down to tap once more, after four years, the fount of wisdom. Within three minutes the unrecognized soldier led the talk to the Lingard estate “A fine thing,” American heir is a true American ve want new democratic ideas. entail will go.” ‘Entail?” Roger exclaimed the schoolmaster said. ‘That is, if the In the coming changes Probably the system of He had not thought of that. ILLUSTRATED ar HENRY “Yes; the property is entailed. The system has done its work perhaps, but it has had noble results. It has kept estates together, has insured a male as owner, has made him a trustee for future generations, and for his tenants and dependents. Farmers rent their farms cheaper than anywhere in the world. The peasantry of England are the best fed and the best housed of any peasantry in the world. They are kings compared to the small holders of France, who starve on small patches of land, subdivided by equal inheritance.” “The heir should give up his rights,” Roger protested. “He cannot. He cannot break the entail until he has a son who is of age. It takes owner and heir jointly to do that.” The astonished Roger was struck dumb. master refilled his continuous pipe. “The new owner,” the schoolmaster resumed, “is English in blood, and probably has the Anglo-Saxon idea. He will understand that he is but a link in the chain of a system. He will not shirk his responsibilities in the anxious He will not surrender the birthright of his The school- time coming. children.” “But if he does? “He cannot, I say. He can't get rid of it.” “But suppose he refuses to turn up or that they don’t find him?” “Chancery, I suppose ” “Miss Lingard would. t get it, then?” “Oh, no. The court might make her an allowance per- haps, but the revenues would pile up and ultimately go to the crown.” “It is very hard on her,” Roger protested hotly. “The right of the male is part of the religion of the upper classes,”’ the schoolmaster explained. ‘‘Their women are what they are, sheltered, cultivated, because entail has kept families well-to-do through generations, and provided the money to produce the fine lady—beautiful, exquisite.” ‘Miss Lingard has done her part with the rest,”” Roger cried. ‘‘I’m sure of that.” “She has done her best,” was the reply. ‘The whole family was a generation behind the time, reactionary, semifeudal, paternal. I am sorry for her of course. I wish her griefs had been lighter. She has borne them well.” The schoolmaster rose. ‘‘An American trying to be an Englishman,” he said, “is the saddest spectacle on earth. Let us hope this lord of the manor from the United States will remain a true American. He'll have some of the sound There Was No Smite in Them blood of the English yeoman, for he is a descendant on the maternal side of the Turles of this village. It is said that he is young. I hope that he is poor, and democratic and unmarried. Then we shall have the happy solution. He will marry Miss Lingard of course.”” He nodded and ambled away, trailing smoke like asmal] tramp steamer burning bad coal. Roger sat pondering, too dazed for consecutive ideas, too deeply shaken to plan. “A link in a chain . . . a trustee for future generations . . . the birthright of his children . . . marry Miss Lingard.” These phrases recurred in his confused reflections. The chain in which he was a link was fastened about his neck, he thought, and he felt that it was drawing tighter. What claim had his unborn children on him? That idea was un-American; it would make everybody play for safety. If children were born, of course you did your best for them, and educated them, and placed them as well as you could. What more could they ask? He emphatically refused to consult these unborn children. In the States a man hustled for himself. If he should say to Gil Hart: ‘‘ You are a trustee for pos- terity,”” he could just hear Gil Hart’s answer: ‘‘ Ah, what’s getting you?"’ And yet there was something fine about it, after all. Ancestors had been something to talk about with his father when there was nothing much to do; posterity had never worried either his father or him; but it seemed to him that in this strange England they were vital forces. This estate, he thought, was not his; rather, he belonged to it. He was a cipher, an accident, an incident, the slave, not the master. He bent under the weight of an immemo- rial past and an ancient tradition. It came clearly to him at length that there were two things he could not do: He could not slip secretly away and leave chaos; he could not, as Roger Lingard, face Dorothy; not yet at any rate. It followed that he must continue to be Kellie Hill. Kellie Hill could find out what Roger Lingard ought to do and could do. His course decided, he found himself hungry and thirsty. The sign still hung over the door of the turnpike house: Teas— Mineral Waters. As he crossed he recalled the great horizontal cameo brooch which moved straight up and down as the fat, placid lady breathed. He found her there, outwardly just the same, a little stouter perhaps, but she was no longer placid. “Milk?” she snapped at him. Grown-ups ought to be ashamed to ask for it when there wasn’t enough for the babies. “I didn’t know,” he said meekly. “Some bottled lem- onade, please.” She had had none this twelvemonth, she said. There was no sugar for the manufacturer, and all his men had been called up anyway. Roger pleaded for tea with his most

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST disarming smile. Rationed, she explained; and she could not get enough for herself. Bread and cheese? She got red with indignation as she said that she had got just half a pound of cheese from the shop in seven weeks. She flamed into a tirade against officers’ wives in the village who got all the tea and cheese they wanted from the officers’ canteen in Castlechepe while honest villagers starved. “Bread and butter?” She stared at him. Did he not know that dairymaids had forgotten how to churn? She was allowed two ounces each week—tub stuff, salt—and the same of margarine; and both were so bad that she could eat neither, nor fry with either. ‘‘But them officers’ wives, they rolls in fresh butter,” she added bitterly. ‘‘ You needn’t think as you in the trenches has had all the worries to bear. Where did you come from as you didn’t know there is nothing fit fora poor woman to eat as is a bit tasty about her meals?” He looked at her in wonder. How had she kept her flesh? “‘T’ve been stuffed with milk and cream and butter and cheese in a convalescent hospital,’’ he answered humbly. ‘I didn’t know.” “‘Come here—you!” she commanded abruptly. In the stone-flagged kitchen she put befose him a loaf of dark war bread, a half-pound pat of fresh country but- ter, a chunk of rich Cheddar cheese and a mug of cider. “I’m out of business this long time,” she said; “but of course you being fresh from hos- pital %y “T can’t eat your share,”’ he protested. She cut a thick slice of bread, put half the butter on his plate, and sliced a monstrous wedge of cheese. **Go on,” she com- manded. ‘I’ve two daughters married to farmers and they won’t see their poor mother wanting, not for ne government nor food controller. There’s more where that come from.” He pitched in. Ah, how good it was! He asked questions, but her main interest in neighbors was that they should not know of her secret supplies. She had plenty more to say about officers’ wives. He gathered that there were great mu- nition works at Cas- tlechepe, that the little town had burst its bounds, that vil- lage cottages and bedrooms had been snapped up, and that there was bitter jeal- ousy because these interlopers could get food which villagers could not get. He learned that he could not expect to find a place to sleep in the neighborhood, and extracted in the end something about the Lingards. He gained a strik- ing new fact which impressed on him more deeply the in- justice to Dorothy, the accidental nature of his inheritance and the impossibility of evading it. The colonel, it seemed, had survived his two sons dnd had seen what was coming, € t but was powerle sto ke ~ break the entail. “The Only Kiss IE The old squire, the stout lady said, was declared silly by the courts. He could not sign any papers “‘ Does the village take to the idea of a Yankee squire?” Roger asked. “Just like I would open my eyes and see a burglar in my room,”’ was the prompt answer. “But Americans are Allies now. with us.” “Do you like that?”’ she demanded. "To “Well, you are the first soldier as haven't said as he'd rather finish the job himself. We've got to take the new squire same as we have a new vicar, and they do say as he’s a young man and so there'll be a wedding of course.” “ Does the village want that?” “*A Yankee with Turle blood!” she cried with bitter con- tempt. ‘‘And you ask if the village wants it! But it’s only fair to Miss Lingard if so be as she will put up with him.” ad | — A pig squealed. The stout lady burst into bitter reproaches against a government which had fooled her intentionally, she believed —about pigs. Back in the spring they had made everybody buy pigs. She had bought one for fifty-six shillings—fifty-six shillings, mind!—and him only a weaner, eight weeks old. And now there was no They are fighting a 4 AY er Meant Was the One I Gave to You. I Have Never Cried for tw wn sharps, nor no grain offal, nor no maize, and she had just bought a sack of what they called pig food which turned out to be just mill sweepings and nothing more, and it worked out at threepence a pound, and there wasn’t a pound of fattening in the lot. They would not let her sell the pig, and if they did pigs was half the price “Well, there! Hear him—starving. He’s got to be fed to the tick or I get notice from him.” The end was that the lord of the manor mixed the meal—and indeed it was pretty poor stuff —and fed the pig, which certainly was not putting on flesh. That was the first service the squire rendered to his tenant He walked up through the village, unconsciously pleased by the absence of change, soothed by its restfulness and charmed by its summer beauty. He mechanically recalled one or two faces, but no one remembered him. He had altered in more than stature and breadth. His features were as changed as his speech. He had not definitely planned to stop at the Turle cottage, but its front door and window beckoned irresistibly As he lifted the of sweet peas that rested on the window sill, and he thought with a smile of Charity in the bar parlor. What had France and war and wound made of Charity? He thrilled to her cheerful voice as she called ‘‘Come in.” She no more than glanced when he entered the parlor Ww ide-ope n solid-brass knox ker he scented the mass “One minute, please,”’ she said Dorothy wa there too, with a id red cross acros her breast Roger tartled, embar rassed, fingered hi cap and eagerly looked at hi wo eousi! found so unexpectedly to gether Now this one Miss Lingard ( harit put down a paper tor ignature, and then other a dozen pert ip flitted across Rog mer 1 picture in Ivanhoe fa Kr nt Templar i Lin rn , i b int ni brea It eemed to him that Dorothy " ’ rn t he i I te etached. She wa j la nf ] h« thougl her pride He felt it in her ’ inner toward Charit He could ee it in her profile outlined against the window, especially her short, curved ipper lip. Shesigned papers with a dash ing flourish. He had seen generals at the Front in dugout headquarters sign like that while adju- tants sorted and blotted She was general, Charity ad- jutant His eyes turned to Charity She wore a hapeless white garment reaching to * the tops of heavy muddied boote—a plashed and stained an’s smock res- VQ! irrected from the irve 1 oak chest Her hand hovered er ape ! | ed ft ind ‘ ‘ i i pre ‘ ntenes Continued on Any Man But You Page 86

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26 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST THE SATURDAY EVENING POST FOUNDED A°D' 1728 PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY BY THE CURTIS PUBLISHING COMPANY INDEPENDENCE SQUARE PHILADELPHIA, PENNSYLVANIA, U.S.A GEORGE HORACE LORIMER, EDITOR By Subscription $2 06 the Veer Five Cents the Copy of All Newedealers lo Caneda— By Subscription 61.50 the Year Single Copies, ben Cents Requests for changes of eddress must reach us at least two weeks before ome effective He sure to give your old address as well as boretgn Subscriptions) Por (Countries in the Postal Union Single Subscrip tons $450 Kemittances to be Made by International Postal Money Order PHILADELPHIA, NOVEMBER 29, 1919 Joyriding and Jaywalking GENTLEMAN who is trying to have his classifica tion under the revenue law changed, with the pious purpose of saving some thousands of the taxes levied on his earnings, observed during the course of 1 recent discussion ‘If the object of government is to make men, then [ am in favor of government ownership This quotation should be orchestrated for the tuba, with the eymbals crashing in on the last word, where the orator pounds the table. It is typical of this era of Big Talk and nall sense, in which everyone is demanding shorter hours except the Big Talker They are still asking for “Just ne moment more.” Che simple and amply proven fact is that government ownership does not make men, and rarely makes money. it makes weaklings, dependents, grafters, bureaucrats, autocrats and deficits. It is the first lesson in Socialism, ind Socialism is the first lesson in Bolshevism, and Bolshev- m is the last lesson in government. The class graduates from that into Anarchy Men are made by not made by government, but government is men. For this reason it is imperfect, inefficient, wasteful and often dishonest. It reflects, and always will, the human weaknesses of those who compose and admin- ister it. If office and the power that goes with it change men, it is rarely for the better A good man is good in office, but he is at his best in private life. It is harder to prove an ilibi there they are intended to be; for The ce between words and deeds finds its clearest ex- Laws are seldom as just as they are only as strong as the men who enforce them ditferer ample in them. The conduct of the great departments of government, no matter how efficient the theoretical plan inder which they are organized, is only as businesslike 1s the standards of their heads and personnel. There is nothing about a Washington job, beginning with the Presidency and working on down, that changes the charac- ter and the competency of the man who fills ic, though it may and often does shackle him to outgrown tradition and outworn precedent \ bungling, boneheaded private citi is not transmuted by election or appointment into 1 competent public servant, though he is often press- vented as one All this, of course, is the obvious; but this is a time » state und restate the obvious, because almost every cheme of world-saving that is receiving consideration ignores the simple and proven facts of life and character. The obvious is too plain, too unexciting, too much like the well-settled middle years of matrimony for a world that Oftener But once wants jazz, hokum and soulmate economics. than not, the obvious course is the right one. that is admitted, a lot of lawyers and deep thinkers will be out of a job. Government ownership is the college widow with whom they all take up when they begin to yearn for a sympa- thetic, an understanding companion. The gossip of the campus, the scandals of her past, the flat failure of her attempts to land one of the long line of freshmen with honorable intentions who have fallen for her—-are brushed aside as capitalistic lies by the pure young soul who sits beside her in the hammock while she plays the dear old songs on the ukulele. Lots of people are simply holding hands with the past when they think they are looking ahead at the future. Government ownership cannot make good beside private business because it cannot develop the ablest type of exec- its final is predicated on supermen in office, utives, nor attract them from private business. form ~Communism and on a superstate that derives its administrators from some Jovian source of supply apart from and above the run of men. It must depend on altruism instead of intelli- gent selfishness as a motive to attract capable managers, and the supply of altruists who are willing to work twelve hours a day in order that the mass of men may lazy round in the sunshine is strictly limited; in fact, it has been found nonexistent in Russia. There seems to be a high degree both of selfishness and of intelligence on this subject. The average voter, without stopping to take government apart to see what makes the wheels go round, why it loses time and sometimes stops altogether, ascribes godlike attributes and powers to it. Bill Smith in private life round the corner must prove his claims to superiority by concrete and old-fashioned tests of his honesty and ability, but Bill Jones in Washington and Bill Joneski in Russia can tell him that they have been anointed with a new oil of wisdom, and he believes blindly. It is a great world delusion that the state, composed of fallible men, selected by and imposed on fallible men, possesses attributes of infallibility, virtues that are not inherent in the individual, abilities that in some occult way are brought out and per- fected by office holding. Rapidly developing corollaries to these propositions are: That the labor radical is more disinterested and less greedy for place and power than the politician. hat theorists are less avaricious and more competent to govern than men of practical affairs. That in unexplained way revolution changes natural law and human nature, and that Communists can bring commodities out of the air like rabbits from a con- jurer’s hat. That altruism should move business and professional men and farmers to work for their own ruin in order to serve the purely selfish ends of labor. That radicals, agitators and demagogues care less for power and money than the men they are trying to take it away from. some Government ownership, Socialism and Communism are based on a belief that these self-evident falsities are truths. It is not intelligent for the radical labor class to think that all other classes will ruin themselves and then pitch in and work to make life soft for the reds. Men believe many things because someone states them from a soap box or a rostrum, or puts them over in a pamphlet or a book. It never occurs to them to step round the corner and get the facts for themselves. Yet there is full information, fact not theory, on almost every subject under discussion, just Take the one that for fifty years has the round the corner. been the most argued over, most written about of all liquor question. The mass of views, reviews and couater- views has befuddled everyone who has followed them in an attempt to form an opinion. But any man of average intelligence could have seen the system in operation and have discovered all the good and the bad of it by spending an evening in his*club, another at the neighborhood saloon, a third visiting Casey’s place near the factory and the barrel house in the slums; by asking a few questions in the office, in the factory, of merchants, and of his friends. November 29, 1919 Beneath all the books and befuddling arguments very few questions are more abstruse than that. Most of them will yield to the same simple personal treatment. Govern- ment ownership is an open book to anyone who has been riding on the cars, doing business with the railroads and paying taxes—and it has been a failure, though it has had the services of practical men whom it could not hope to retain under permanent government ownership. What we are headed for under a neat little plan like Plumb’s stag- gers the imagination of those who will have to make up the deficits. We see no evidence that Plumb and his brother- hoods are superaltruists or that their standards of what's theirs and what’s the public’s are higher —except that they want to be farther above regulation—than those of the present owners. We are all more or less government owned, and because we do not like the dose of it that we have already had, a part of the public is clamoring for more, on the theory that if one drink turns your stomach a dozen will restore its tone. Some want it in one kind of bottle and some in one group believes in it homeopathically and the genuine Russian vodka, with Lenine’s name blown in the another; another demands it in its allopathic and logical form glass. Government ownership is not only ownership of machin- ery, but it is also ownership of men. In its final form it is not only ownership of the machinery of production, but it is ownership of the individual, body and soul. It is folly to talk of ownership of production, in the sense of mastery, by all the people. Actual ownership will be vested in the men who are selected or who, as in Russia, select themselves to hold and to manage capital and industry. From the very nature of the case this will be a small and autocratic group. Government will own all the capital and they will be government. There will be no appeal except to God or the counter-revolution, and these new- day altruists do not believe in God and are exceedingly eareful about leaving firearms lying round loose with which the happy comrades might hurt themselves. In any form of government we must delegate certain powers over our life, liberty and property to some very human men at Washington and elsewhere. The fewer and smaller those powers, consistent with equality of oppor- tunity, the happier, freer and more prosperous the nation. Under government ownership we gradually increase those powers, but every increase of them means a corresponding decrease of the individual's rights and liberty, until in the ideal state of the reds we are slaves of the machine, without individuality or opportunity. The choice is between in- dividuals who are outside the government but whom the government can control, and individuals that are the government and beyond any control. A government may be ideal in theory, but it is finally The weakest spots in all administrations have been some of the men no better than the men who dominate it. who have been selected as advisers and executives. The weakest of the weak in the present Administration have been the theorists, uplifters and world-savers who are disciples of the new thought in polities. But it would be these men, who have made sucha sorry showing, and others who profess their delusions without believing in them who would be our rulers in the new dawn, as they call this new twilight of civilization. Until a party goes before the country on a radical plat- form and returns an administration on it, there is no warrant for thinking that the American people want or expect men to hold office whose views are not in full har- mony with their traditional principles of government Socialists will naturally lend the weight of their influence to forwarding socialistic doctrines even in an individual- istic administration. The country emphatically repudiated Socialism at the last election. Government is not what a party stands for historically, not what it promised in its platform, but what its men in office are doing. it will be radical and socialistic to just the extent that the men in office are radical and socialistic, or compromising with socialistic doctrines. One hesitates to discourage anything that may tend to bring factions together and to compromise differences, but we doubt whether Big Talks by Big Names without

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in OTT Oe a > on = — =— a —— —— ty rT OTB a4 ~~ THE SATURDAY EVENING power and authority to settle anything will get anywhere. The things that need doing must be done by the Government, not by conferences, and there are hopeful signs of an awakening by the Administration and Congress to the need for forceful action. The first conference, as was a foregone conclusion, blew up. Consideration of collective bargaining should have been preceded by a decision as to whether labor considers a bargain binding on anyone except the employer. But even before that question was taken up there should have been a clear-cut condemna- tion of those radical labor leaders who, when they are refused the unreasonable, the intol- erable und the impossible, threaten strikes effect olutionary . that are ir and, we are afraid, in in tention—rev These preliminaries settled and red leader- ship and principles disavowed, labor would have had a sympathetic public behind it when its just grievances and claims came up for consideration. There never was a time in the history of the world when so much was being done by progressive and sympathetic employers all over the country to meet every fair demand for better wages and hours, and even to go labor one better by try- ing to in prove liv ing and workiz g conditions beyond any- thing that has been asked. It must, however, be borne in mind that many of these strikes cannot be settled by con- cessions; in fact, that concessions will simply stimulate new strikes, because they are not what they purport to be, efforts to obtain fair wages and just conditions, but moves planned by red leaders, seeking first the disorganization and then the confiscation of industry. In short, the real objective of these leaders is Communism. These things, however, are squarely up to Congress, and it is its job to see that no department of the Government can offer lack use for inaction. ( f le ta) ] tion as an ¢ The business of government is not to make men, but to give men a chance to make themselves. That was the spirit in which this Government was conceived, the theory on which it was founded. That was the practice that developed the American pioneer and that distinguished him from the European peasant. Individualism develops a breed of strong, self-reliant, progressive freemen. Social- ism is simply a crutch for the half-free, the half-dependent. The demand for it in America has grown in proportion as Edu- cated to a belief in the superstate, always subservient to the number of unassimilated aliens has increased. one, always dependent on one, they conceive government IsywpiCALiSTH _—_ pores ttn hint Loaded as omnipotent for good or evil. If it was evil in the hands of the old rulers, it must be good in the hands of the new ones. And so they are easily led by the agitators, red radicals and demagogues, in and out of office, who are always seeking to increase their incomes and their power. Naturally the prospect of taking the capital of the country away from its present owners and han- dling it themselves delights these leaders. There are always plenty of people to join a mob, once it has been formed, and so the silly, as well as the sinister, are going along with the ignorant. The net of it all is that radicalism would ex- change one set of capitalists who are at least prac- tical and understand business for another set who show no evidence that cept the short cuts to the treasury. they know anything ex- The men who control capital, whether as private or govern- ment owners, are capitalists. When we have government ownership of everything and every- body, who is going to control government control? Our altruist, who was seeking a reduction in his taxes, had plenty of intelligent selfishness when his private in- terests ran up against a gov- ernment ruling that cost him wrens. oe = 2, ona tien a Tv gate JAYWALKING PROA - 74£L RS ee ata _ * nas tect POST money. Highbrows as well as lowbrows have a keen sense of their own property right Division is only desirable when Old Johr D. Rockefeller, their horrible it is in fact addition. example—who in truth is not above the suspicion of having more than his share— has done with his than al more for humanity Rockefeller Institute the theories of all the red , pro fessional and parlor. Inciden tally, he gives to society more than these al freely any of truists that it has been our fortune to meet off the day They all put of division and re sent any attempt at direct action on their check books From what, then, do they Not from their human nature nor argue to their | topias? from all human experience, but from some surface in their brains that is too soft to re- tain the impressions of com- mon sense but always receptive to the counsel of il ind cupidit Every hard-headed man mechani farmer, clerk or merchant ' ! tudied the literature of the red move ment kn tha t based ‘ fallacious the ‘ ind «de liberate t uu en ever misrepresentat facts and { ire TI isa 1 ire it ork, tirele i preading these les, but eve in the industries where the reds have been most active there has bee ttle organized man-to-man effort to combat them with the truth in tern of cold fact and actual figure You ean dk t liar but ou cannot de} rt their ile The ean onl be

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r WAS ra g and coming winter w he Bernie Cave let himself “Listen Here,"* Tortured Lips Said Swiftty. painfully down a dingy stairway N chwartz Street, Chicago : rrow bleak building with a drug m the lower floor, a doctor's . bove. Bernie had lain ip for f rteen hour in one of the back f the doctor’s establishment r} niging id st him five ia but a dream boe went with room. The doctor had supplied } ler it five the pre | tte l king Bernie in ad ved a irlo other y i he e chap] ed up his coat ir Ww a ed movement and red t t A ‘ The onl gy me i thir f that would help the bitter loo f the world just Ww " p ot « ee. There was er « } } | ets for that Act he restaurant he it hu | er the er waiting for tne Te ¢ | iH hand wasn't tead ‘ gh to Lise it in the sauce ( | ( adwe ty \ hie h ga ind sat beside | f t} i bel i the counter to i i length awa Chu was @ bartender from Monahan’s blind pig acro he street. Ile took in Bernie if he side W hat he saw re juired no word lle expr ed it back to the other by the | f his face I followed you * he lina low tone I saw l eakin past, not eve ing acro the treet, I let Monahan t e the bar because I inted to speak to I'll pa Monaha what I owe him Ber e rema ed, That int what I'm tall x about Monahar t rying, be use he'll take wha mu owe him t { t I lon't pay I told} I'd st | ifew dr | 1 not « i iv I hat I'l t i tale I What I t “ Phoebe hk ‘ ‘ ! 1 I ! i \ " ‘ , at Wha l \ il t ‘ ‘ ( \ \ Iler | Dave \ M ha ‘ ‘ i he truth w Be e ebe’s brother enter ind had d ed of the bac | ‘He came in just before you went over to the do« Chuc added *What did he sa “Dave's just about as queer as Pheebe i Cadwell mused ‘They're off the same piece lie wasn't sore at you. Wanted to see you. but wasn't sore Looked kind of tired of it all rired about Phaebe, tired of himself. lired’s the word. He’s still looking for you— coming back to-da Hie said Phasbe was sick— damned sick—only she wants you to know that everything is all right with her, and she knows you'll come bac} “Come back,”” Bernie re peate | ‘Does she mean come back to her or come bac in the game? I dunno. That's what Dave said, and that Phebe knowed you'd come bac You don’t look this mornin’, Bernie, as if you’d ever come back—in the game. The doe’s got you going and he can drive faster than you ever did.” Chuck was regarding the small but straight-grained face. It was pale, sic ; it was sharp and wasted, even stunted a little, but with a curious concentration of power some- where in the nostrils or round the mouth or back of the jaw. The eyes were shadowed and tortured just now, vague with morphine, vague from the hopelessness of the depression that followed the dream book, vague from the hopelessness of resisting the need of morphine when its grip tightened again. later in the day. ‘Still you're looking a little better than when I came That would begir in,”’ Chuck added drear y. TLLUSTRATEDO BY THE SATURDAY EVENING POST HE G By Will Levington Comfort fil IM Ip HAWTHORNE Bernie sniffed. A smile of scorn curled his thin mouth. It wasn’t for Chuck Cadwell; certainly not for Brother Dave. Bernie was facing the failure in himself. Back of all that was a kind of dead-cool and crawling nausea that had to do with the message from Pheebe. ‘Living God,” he muttered aloud. ‘“‘ They never do get mad!” “Who? “Phoebe or her brother.” Then Bernie saw how interested Chuck was and became sore at himself for the words. “I guess you're right about me not coming back,” he added quickly; “‘and yet The scornful smile flickered again. Cadwell’s whole look had changed. Something of awe came into his kindly hardened face. He was remembering what Bernie Cave had been—the best jockey the Middle West ever turned out; for one season, three years ago, the most talked about jockey in the world. Chuck Cadwell couldn’t have told what brought the awe back, but it was something that had come just now into Bernie Cave’s face between those two looks of scorn—the mounting again, after many days, of an old unwhippable something he had known as a boy; the old look that had made them all back in Leeds think of Bernie Cave as The Gamester. He had felt himself going back to Phebe—but that meant going back clean and a winner. He had said that. It would be so. Anything else might happen; he might die in the gutter or in Doe Halsey’s back room, but if he went back to Phoebe it was to be clean and a winner. And she had said he would come back. For just a second again HOWLAND ““Porget Your House for a Minute and Stay With Me. You Can Finish Off the Night by a Real Piece of Work for Once in Your Life" November 29, 1/919 STE the old surge took his heart and then died down. “Thanks, Chuck,” he said. “I’m coming over pretty soon. I think I need another one of these’’—he touched the coffee cup—‘‘and it’s quiet and warm in here.” Chuck was gone. Bernie thought over those two moments when the old power had come back. It was some- thing that Chuck said about Pheebe’s brother that had done it—how tired Dave was and about his not being sore. It seemed to him that he would almost die to see her brother this minute. They used to be good friends as boys, back in the old town, but never inseparables. There had been other hotter palships, but the agony of longing for Dave now was because he was Pheebe’s brother. Chuck Cadwell had made it worse by saying they were off the same piece. The old power that had touched him twice while Chuck sat near had not risen often of late. Mostly he had to use front nowadays. The front seemed to work, but it didn’t really work. Bernie knew that from where he stood now. The people would point him out as Bernie Cave, the great and only Bernie, but he knew as they stared that they were screen- ing the present from the past, trying to restore for their own curiosity a hero out of a has-been. Yet he was only twenty-six and right now lighter than most steeple- chasers. Three years ago Blue Sage had fallen upon him on the Bristol course. It had felt as if the whole field of jumpers had taken a kick at him as they went over. About every- thing that can be broken in a man got it. Bernie had lain practically still, in various casts and scaffolds for ten months—‘“‘ never to ride again,” the papers had said; and the sport- ing writers hadn’t known the worst that one young doctor had taken pity on his pain and got him started on the dream book. He wished he had asked Chuck what had happened to Pheebe. It seemed to choke him to say her name aloud to anyone else; even to hear Chuck speak of her was all he could stand. It started fresh fogs of shame rising up within, and hatred for himself, which was bad enough all the time. The truth was, of late Bernie could only live with himself when the drug worked. That set him free in a better world than this, a world managed better. There were high lights there, no frost or ache or distance. It was like moments of races, moments of ball games and billiards and gambling—when he couldn’t lose, when the end of the game or the end of the race was ordained and standing before his inner eyes as a thing finished in his favor, though he might be far behind at the time. This was his own real world, and the drug set him free in it in spite of the crippled body. He had known this world sometimes when walking and talking with Pheebe. He had known it all the way up as a boy, always in games and fights—the coming of a cool patient invincible clear- ness and calm that couldn't lose. They never forgot and never stopped talking about a certain ball game when Leeds, his home town, played Bostock and was losing. Bernie went in to pitch in the seventh, four runs behind. The light and power stayed with him for the full three innings—in and out of bat. He had held Bostock tight, but that wouldn’t have copped. Bernie had to win his own game with a hit in the last half of the ninth. Always like that in a field of runners. He could make his mount rise with his own power when the thing was working just right. He would come up from behind. In the moment of winning he would hear the crowd not before. In the pressure of approach to the climax the crowd went out of his consciousness—far back like high banks of a lake, and silent. But when he won the crowd’s Continued on Page 30) es

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST Continued from Page 28 I v igh air yw it th 5 met? v ‘ u j il ) but A ‘ ame bat OW A { ta g him to Phaehe ri the sh t ind starva Phoebe calling A ind pride that 4 home until he was f ! i traight thought 1} e street to begin over rie It Wa ti U0 . | ‘ elf past Mona " had he cared to edt gh several empty squares ‘ ar barr The com k ng against the will sught it out, except ! ew red and dared ea He said he could i hat actual expenence wa | n for conductor t What he was rea ) eet 7 iwa l ‘ vding t i ed Liat eT, pa ed r three word You 5 the ‘ ter Also the } f ewe tobacco on Bernie t t ey pri ind a ear or tw , The ‘ hurt. but he wa eeing | lrummed or rhat \ e wa igl ni heart ‘ ween the men and t! had butted in, that ‘ ince going agal { thie lot and slipped out e got ere The company had already called ind he cleared ittered as he walked uut what to do ind a indwich, and then go Monahan’ me were it with an ‘ p when Chuck Cadwell that the little man behind ‘ the vreat and only Bert le and pock-marked, rugged and manful enough, but the eyes had the shine of a child in them. It had always taken Bernie by the throat. It seemed to mean that it was ea t die something of the look that you remember about children who die young. Phoebe had it. Yet she had a strength that matched his own in most ways, and Dave had never known a k day in his life, except for the They were walk- mallpox. Dave's hand was on his arm. ing together to the back room. ‘I’ve been lookir g for you, Bernie. started yesterday. I want you to hurry back to Phebe.’ “T can’t. I can’t, Dave.” “Why?” “You know what I said “You're right to Phebe now. each other. You didn’t mean any years ago when they were all talking about you than you do right now. She knows you'll come back, and I know it, but she’s sick from waiting.” “T can’t, Dave. I can’t show up in the old town like this. Phaebe knows I can’t ‘Chauvin is back in Bostock for the winter.” “Huh?” came from Bernie. Dave repeated, adding: ‘‘He’s wintering a small string in his old stables and he said he’d like to have your eye on ome of them; that nobody had an eye like yours for what a yard of fillies might turn into.” “Did Chauvin say that?” “Yes,”” Dave Bernie had done his first riding for Chauvin, an old race- formerly at Hoped to get you that I'd go back right. You two always needed more to Phoebe three answered. 1 track man with stables Leeds, as well as Bostock What’s the Dave hining eyes upon him. ‘They don’t know,” he “They call it call it different things.” Jut what do you know it is?” ‘It you, Bernie The littl window You think she to Phoebe to take year meant to you—before Blue Sage tripped.” Dave's hand rested softly upon Bernie’s elbow. “Why, you've got something—not in one man in a mil- lion. Phoebe knows it. I know it. You're different from You won over all of us, but her—all the way up from a kid. Chauvin knows it. Never mind Leeds, that’s only a town. It is only pride that makes you care about a town. But what Phoebe has for you—why, Bernie, she never saw anybody else but you.” Bernie half raised his arm, like one who could hear no more. “Oh, I'm not going to take you back. I know you want I'm going to stay in Chicago for a few days. matter with Phabe?”’ turned his slow said. on, they man sat back, turning his face from the Dave went on. “I It would mean as Phoebe’s like that,’ to take care of you. know need 5 care of you now as all that big mucn all of u to be alone November 29,1919 Pick up a good coat and some things. This you can give me later.” Dave thrust a small roll away out. ** Besides, you've got into Bernie’s hand, most of it coming,” he “You staked me once when you were flush.” Dave had made it easy, looking away like that and going with strange haste. was all up to him. There had beer Bernie hadn’t promised any 1 times three hing It when he had a pocketful of money and had done thing with himself, but forget. the roll ten away in a secret place and left was gone from the front. Dave wasn’t “Just waved and blew out,” Chuck whispered. Bernie passed him a bill. Chu rather than the remark: ‘‘Go and get yourself into then come a steak home,” Bernie resented the word made a false move right then, buyir you “home that had been exploiting him when several others before he could escape meant city looked more human in the earl warm blur of a barber shop—talk about him—holding himself still of Bernie’s. V« The dark was thicl and ligh ts the street again. The morning experience were away Dack that had happene 1 before the seemed to be tuned to sani thing to live for windows, Christmas coming, as if green and red He resisted the curious inner call to get the oy and continued to look for just the In some place the benche man behind the counter didn’t look appetizing. It had t be just right for Bernie this night. it for people, not even remembering the a fellow There was a twenty, some sixty or seventy, by the feel satisfaction, shoving the remains back were all a unt you could tens, Bernie pinned one the back room. Dave a five or two il } k took it with back sorrow wit! something to eat. Get before you »”’ from alien lips. He g a drink for the grou Dave came in. That Now the He was in the laughter of mer dusk. ‘ j anda and steady, an old tricl few had ever seen were or him rock with drin} when he wa his hour of street-car city crowd have some everywhere in the nt for er it fir right place for a feed filled, in other he Sut it didn’t work out so—a rank failure, that steak at la He could have done better back in Schwartz Street, across from Monahan’ blind pig. He was looking for a coat now down among the second hand stores—a street of low flares and group of men gat} ered to centers of re trained harangue Bernie skirted the wind from the stinging dust. knots of men. The nowing, filled wit! " iaKke Was A big man stepped out Keen and Wil from one of the crowds and caught his shoulder, yanking the face up to his own and laughin g into it. “I thought I couldn’t mistake you, runt,” he said wit a frosty chuckle. It was the square-face who had climbed onto his car in the morning and left the stain on his shoulde Bernie tried t bre it awa I i the big one held him wit ne } i, turning t peak to frend the crowd Right After That a Fight Began — Bricks and a Small Riot, Shattered Windows and a Scream or Two ‘*Here’s one of them, fellow Give him the ones over.” Be rnie wa struc fron he- hind, while the square-face held his eye. still as the manhandling, absolutely nonre Their hands went He lay death ir sistant. over him. Then he wa carried through a shop to an alley and dumped there enjoined to hurry back to work Bernie crawled to his knees, stood numb hand groping frantically under his belt to the place where the one ten had beer pinned. They hadn’t found that. It was still in place. More over, they hadn't up, one Continued on Page 32 turning added. years ago stake and

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32 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST Continued from Page 30 rei iid him out, because he had gone limp in their is from the first blow--taking the beating as he had irned to take a fall as a boy Hie might get the train back to Bostock with this ten. Ile wouldn't go home; no, he wouldn’t go to Leeds like } but he might go as far as Bostock and report up with The old man would keep his coming a secret He would be near Phaebe then—next town to Phoebe. It sounded like the next room—he had been so long and so far away. Now the picture came to his ind with a kind of erying pang —of going to her from Bostock, if she were in grave danger— hooking up one of (hauvin's fillies and doing that eight miles into Leeds. But Phoebe was in danger now, Dave had said. Something deep inside of Bernie fought that. Dave had said so merely to start him home. Phaebe was only lonesome. And now as he stumbled his way out of the alley he thought of Doe Halsey and this black day he had just lived—-the riot, the beating, the drink dying out, the rotten luck of it all, Phasbe waiting for him, Phaebe just over all his vow not to return to her until he ( hauvin til he was ready ionesorme could go back in style The drug thing that had long been frowning from a dis- tance like a slow storm now broke upon him. He knew just where Doe Halsey would be at this hour. All else Half the ten would do! One more night’s His step quickened. He shut out lipped away rest no pain for hour every sound from his ears lest someone call his name; every thought from his mind lest something prevent him from reaching Doe Halsey’s upper room. Men on the street at a distance looked like Dave looked like Chuck Cadwell. Bernie would duck lest he ‘They would put him on the train home—to it in the horror of a chair car for hours—all hell broken loose in his mind. And now the need was riding him right his steps almost to a run — his dreams forming, focalizing. Doc Halsey never failed. There was always a cot to spare. Che smell of drugs in Halsey’s back room was the smell of meet then heaven's approach “Put me to sleep,”’ Bernie muttered with a sigh. ‘‘Give me au good one, do« Bernie loved the pierce of the needle and the itching ache of the lump among the sears. He waited for Doe Halsey to go. When the door was shut the long sigh took him. All the weariness of life went out. The cot and the room grew weet to him as the home of childhood, Pain and failure loosed like temporal things, fell away in the outpouring of that long tired sigh. The unhurt boy lived again in an expansion of warmth and light discord, and division in his body swung into rhythm again Then he missed his way for a period and poked and glided like a vagrant dirigible through musty memory grounds and into cross currents of old trials and reckonings. hat passed into clear still sailing again. Early summer morning at the end of Main Street in Leeds. He had gone for his mother to Phaebe’s house for milk. He had looked in from their kitchen to the breakfast table. There was the warm smell of muftins and coffee, Phoebe was sitting by her father, a mysterious man, always kind. The soft blue shine from her eyes to him had needed no words, Chen he was walking back to his own house with the filled pail in the beginnings of the vast warm still summer day blue gleam from the morning-glories on the fence, and one great cobweb perfect as the dream of creation, every marvel thread ashine with dew And now he was the real Bernie Cave, gamester, which is all that trickster is not. All the high moments of games and races he had known massed now into one and were tained. Each at the time had been merely a flash in which he sat tight in a pinch or made the one exact needed move before one could think, but this was a steady easy the power back of every man if one ould only reach it. The badly broken and badly mended body which held him in vices and pains and limitations when awake was only the trailing, dragging ground part cut in the open with Phaebe, and she under- tood everything now and always-- understood beyond the need of words, like the child with softly shining eyes at the breakfast table. And this was a vast warm still and radiant day 1 day that was more than day; and horse racing wasn'ta yellow-cruel, man-made thing, but horses and men holding to his power now. He wa playing together, a wide open sport of the gods The drug was working differently than ever before. It recurred vaguely at first, but again and again that this peace and power and light also concerned the dragging broken thing that bumped the ground —that he must make all this come true down on the ground He put the thought away, but it recurred persistently and with cumulative drive--that dreams were all right, but they must belong to the days too. Winning was in the plan, and joy was the proper state of beings, but one musi not run away from a sick and hurting body, because run- ing away was running away, no less or more! Phoebe didn’t run away, but stayed down and waited. Dave tayed down; Chuck Cadwell stayed down But he, Jernie Cave, seized every chance to run away. To limp was not to fail, to go slow wasn’t to fail—only running away was failure. And now Bernie’s pride world cracked round his ears. He saw for once and all what a mean whelp of a thing it was— holding him off from the very work that would bring him home clean and a winner. All this would look dif- ferently to-morrow, but it stayed and lived with him now, forcing him to see it from every angle and making him know that he must carry it with him to the morning and begin at the bottom with it in the new day. It was cutting in on his night. It was taking the light and ease away. The day thing was rising into the dream book, darkening all the pages. He burned with revolt. Dreams had never failed him before. Hell was loose, in- deed, if this kept up—no rest in the day, no rest in the night, no place to turn. “‘Go to Pheebe,” the voice said quietly within. ‘‘ Make the dreams come true with her. Come up from behind, Bernie. You can pass the field, one by one. The Gamester isn’t dead. He’s only handicapped because he was made to come through with full weight! That’s you—made to carry full weight and come up from behind!” A steady rousing challenge. Now Bernie actually felt the heaviness of his body again. It lay like a frozen thing. His mind hardly touched it, but raced away like a steamer’s screw out of water. His body was made of ache and inertia, yet he was free of it no longer. The damnable thing that had hurt him so must butt in now and come along, spoiling everything. He tried to sit up. It was minutes before he could get the thought working in his limbs, yet always back of every- thing was the cool quiet voice—the old winning voice: “Now's your chance, your last chance. Make it all work out neatly below. That’s what dreams are for. Listen well now, because you'll have to work to-morrow, when you can't hear these words. Remember you'll have to put it through alone to-morrow—right down in the beaten track. That’s what it means to be a winner, kid.” It was like a conspiracy against him, tightening,etighten- ing, until he could not get away. The Gamester in him was challenged, urged and whipped and lured awake. The pages of the dream book were flying leaves; the force of the drug kicked back to rouse him out of the old easy pas- tures—-to drive him down into the dark and cold. He sat up at last and got his legs out. He tried to put on his shoes, against waves that broke over upon his mind, putting out every light. He couldn’t feel his fingers among the laces. He lurched forward on the floor with a crash. Halsey came. Halsey wanted him to go back to bed, even promised him another shot. “T want to get out of here!” “It's only eleven, you fool! “T want my shoes.” “*Remember, if you get out of here it will cost you an- other five to get back.” “T’ve got another five.” Halsey coughed. “Put on my shoes.” “1 can’t stay up all night waiting for you to come back.” “I’m not coming back, doc.” Jernie mumbled. His lungs felt all wet inside from the rush of cold air in the streets. Bernie had started home—not to Chauvin no further waiting or wabble like that—but straight to Leeds, straight to Phaebe’s door, to her arms, to learn all there. He was walking to her now, and one way or the other he would never stop until he got there. He had five, but that would not do the whole journey. He would save that for the last end, and trust to steal the first half. He wondered now how he could have thought of staying in secret for a time with Chauvin—with Phoebe ill, Phoebe calling! It was almost as if he had not understood Dave's message until that last moment in Halsey’s, when the big change came to his mind. The first Jeg of the drive was to the freight yards on the lake. Long stretches of street, he knew nothing, felt noth- ing except that he was on his way. Then he would see lights and pass corners and feel cold. He was standing still, on pavement, in a blinding light. An auto cut round, the fender grazing his thigh, the driver’s curse in his ears. **Never touched me,” Bernie muttered. It hadn't quickened his pulse. No machine could get him. He was coming up from behind. At intervals the drug still worked with him—reiterating, beating the thing he must do deep upon his mind, working not with dreams but with all the real stuff left in him, against the time presently when he could not hear and feel its admonition. He was far from Doe Halsey’s when he recalled that he had passed Monahan’s, where he might have had a drink and borrow a few dollars—enough with the five for a ticket straight to Leeds. Monahan’s was open to familiar cus- tomers until midnight. Halsey had said it was only eleven. It didn’t tempt him now! He would never go back. He was nearer the lake. The cold was keener. His feet were like trucks, and he was feeling the hateful bind of thoughts that belong to the day, never to the dream book. Still deeper within, He knew he must remember the drive— must November 29, 1919 hold to that down here on the floor of things and steadily, surely give the lie to every objection, every obstruction Winning meant that. To remember, when he could not hear and see. He was down among the cars in the sag of the lake front. Vast brooding quiet in the place preyed upon him before he actually recalled that strike conditions were also on in the freight yards. He had heard them say in Monahan’s that the big Christmas shipping was hung up; that only a few passenger trains were running. His mind faculties keened under this shock. Presently the voices of men reached him softly from the right. He moved toward them. One seemed an old yard man who had not walked out, the other two apparently strike breakers. The old man was talking about certain livestock farther down the yards, which had to be fed and watered. The voices of the three were queer and frightened, like conspirators in the stillness of a churchyard. An engine bell sounded far beyond them. It was like a tolling in the deadly lull. Now a headlight moved slowly round a curve out of the Twelfth Street Station. The old man glanced at his watch and at the big white approaching lamp. “That’s the Boomerang,” he muttered. ‘“‘She’s going out on time.” Bernie slipped in between two coal cars and crawled under the coupling. He knew the Boomerang—the main- line train between Chicago and Detroit. When the wind was right they could hear her whistle in Leeds at four in the morning, flying by ten miles south of the town. He couldn’t ask what track she was passing out on, but the Boomerang belonged. Nothing could stop him now. He reached a broad open current between the masses of freight. The passenger was nearer, sliding leisurely out on one pair of threads of this maze. Bernie stood in the midst of the open like one in a wide road, standing with arms out to stop a runaway horse. He heard the big passenger engine crash over the switches and saw her weave from one side to the other, until the straight gleam held along one un- broken rail. She was near and speeding up. His fingers hooked the dull brass bar of the blind; the arm seemed yanked out by the roots, his body flung against the coach “Four hours,” he gasped. Slowly the pressures tightened on him now —pressures of cold and pain, hail of cinders, some still red, the choke of smoke. Yet queerly at first because he was on his way his mind trailed back to other times when he had caught this train, once or twice in the big year, when he had ridden decently berthed in one of the Pullmans behind; changing at Corson before four in the morning and hanging round the little station until six, when the local that touched Bostock and Leeds started up country from the main line; and often before the big year, with some of the fellow coming back from Chicago, sitting up in the chair ear playing cards, saving a flask or two for the long wait at Corson — days of laugh and violence, of lose and win, all making ready for this night. He remembered a story told about Bert Goodrich, a Leeds barber, riding the Boomerang’s blind from Chicago to Corson. Bert had gone broke in Chicago and caught the flyer’s front platform somewhere in the yards. Then he had needed two weeks in bed. Still, the Boomerang crashed through South Chicago. The city seemed to stretch round the whole foot of the lake, round the world, before the throttle opened wide and the big locomotive raced forward into open country. They might find him somewhere —-shaken off some- where—but it would be after his lights were out. He'd never let go. The fine red coal cut through and under his collar, up his sleeves, into his shoe tops. Cinders fanned white against his flesh. Fifty or sixty miles an hour with out a windshield, without an overcoat, a steady peppering of fire fragments, in the crush of the icy air. It was that icy rush that hurt most. He had to keep his hands upon the brass not to be shaken off. If he could have hunched back against the door, cover ing his face and hands and ankles, but he had to hang on! Bert Goodrich laid up for two weeks. Bernie remembered laughing at that with the fellows, and somebody’s saying that it was more than four hours on the Boomerang that laid Bert up, but that was Clearer now. He welcomed the numbness, but it only crept into ankles and wrists. There was no getting away from a single minute. He tried to draw back something of the power that had come to him in Halsey’s room. He had seen it all clearly from there—how to fight it out step by step, how to make it all work out, down on the floor of things, down on the tracks. The laugh and the power were gone now, the reason and reality, the whole thing a dope dream, sanity gone even from the message Dave had brought, leaving only senti- ments gone soft. He was looking into Chauvin’s hard black eyes. He had seen Chauvin’s thin leathery lip cur! afore- time. The old horseman would sneer at the idea of taking him back. Phoebe wanted him back? He could hold to going home, against any force that did not kill or put him out—that was done, that was inevitable, but he could not hold now to the thought of Phaebe wanting him. (Continued on Page !73 | | > | | ' ] |

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST Tibw € November 29,1919 OSS PULL vil m | F ASH st 1 n a divide that overlooked the val- } ley of the Little Big Horn. The Bar T and his past life were a wee ehind and several hundred miles to the sout! ross his shoulder had agye d tear a healed and troubled him not at all. He was outlawed me but did t care. The one thing that most con- erned is the insistent desire to hear that miss- ng note for which he had always listened among the inds of the night his was the mating moon of the wolves, but he did ot know. He did not realize his craving for that long- ight note hen the note came! From far down in the valley there sounded the call. He knew now what it was. The far-off cry was that of a she-wolf questing for a mate. His whole body thrilled and tingled to the call. He had never used his voice, yet he knew he must reply. He stood tretched forth, but no sound came. lhe note drifted to him again and he threw all the force of For miles erect, his great head his lungs into one convulsive effort to answer it. and miles across the white hills every living creature held its breath and lonely ranchers far down the valley felt the ill tingle of the wolf shiver as the lobo cry reac hed their ear It started with a deep bass note carrying a full smooth volume, then swept abruptly up into a clear siren peal that rolled on and on until it was tossed and echoed among the rim rocks of the valley. The dog lobo and the she-wolf from the north circled the edge of the basin until at last they met and stood facing another s fifty feet of moonlit snow. They ap- proached cautiously. The she-wolf wa ispicious of his scent; it was wolf scent, no doubt of that, but there was a faint trace of the it marks the dog. She napped and fled one acre conglomerate odor that ar domestic niffed at him, then Her speed was no match for his and he ran easily at her side. When she wh and slashed at him he eluded her teeth, but did not offer to return the She soon found that he meant no harm toher. He was a massive, splendid figure of the true lobo; a mate to win the savage heart of - ried nap. any lovelorn she-wolf At last she stopped and they walked stiffly round until satisfied that all was well. She whined softly and he tried to answer. She seemed to understand the deep rumble which issued from his throat and he leaped about in a frenzy of delight She was aslim Northern wolf with a dark strip along her back blending into a soft des Half an hour of courtsh p ar ad the big lobo and the silver ilver gray on and flanks. she-wolf started for the valley in quest of meat. Close under the rims they found where a lone steer had left his bed at the lobo call above and started out across the flat had felt it now, sense of wrong g with him, a furtive Alway a be fore Flasl when on his raids, | with Silver runnin there was no thought save to kill—kill food for her. She whimpered eagerly, and as he ran swiftly on the warm trail he was all wolf; the yellow eyes were streaked red with the lust to tear down | prey Chey closed in on the steer and pulled him down. Silver raised her voice and gave the summons to the feast, the vie- of the wolf who has killed. Once more Flash ind the lobo note rang out with hers. if an torious cry tried out From far up the an echo of their own call ca his voice lope of the mountains to the north, a t back to them, there came answering cry. Then another. Several blended into one the cry of the pack They sounded closer and soon were answer ing from the hill assuring Flash and Silver t at sthe were coming to the kill By Hal G. Evarts ILLUSTRATED Br FRANK B. HOFFMAN All up and down the valley ranchers listened to this devils’ chorus and planned for ruthless, bloody war as soon as the sun should shine. This was no new thing to them. Each winter when the snow fell heavy in the North there was at least one scattering band of wolves that were lured across the mountains, coming down to the easier killing of the open range. Two gray shadows came sliding through the night and fell ravenously upon the steer; then two more. Presently there were fourteen wolves tearing at the warm meat. They were gaunt with the pinch of famine and not until the last bone was picked did they quit the feast. As they ate they snarled. Flash had come into his own at last. He imitated these sounds of his kinsfolk and added his snarl to theirs. There were frequent slashes and snaps, but no resulting fights. They had come in pairs and each one with true wolf constancy was contented with his own. The season of selection had passed its height. Among them were grizzled veterans who bore the marks of recent conflict gained dur- ing the savage courting period that had raged all through the North. A little earlier and Flash would have been com- pelled to defend his right to mate with the silver she-wolf. Two hours before dawn the pack left off gnawing on the bones of the steer and trotted slowly away. As he traveled with them the big lobo was four inches taller at the shoulder than the next, looming up by comparison as a giant of his kind. A wolf loses or picks up weight more rapidly than any other ani- mal, and as they moved across the snow they were no longer gaunt. Paunches sagged heavily, low to the ground. After famine they had gorged to repletion. Some of them had not touched food for three days when they came to the kill, yet they had appeared springy and tire- less. Now, after feeding, instead of feeling new strength, they were sluggish and leth- argic. Ten miles from the steer they sought a knoll and bedded down, each pair choosing quarters of their own a few yards from the rest. As Flash slept, his dreams dwelt upon a far-off speck on his back track which developed into a horseman on his trail. The horse changed color continuously—first a sorrel and then a tireless buckskin was pressing him. When some near-by wolf clashed his teeth together in his sleep it was a pistol shot to Flash and he was instantly on his feet, the new-found snarl rumbling in his throat. He nosed Silver into wakefulness and started off. It was agony for her to travel, but she would not be left behind by this magnificent new mate of hers. She followed, and daylight found them resting far up the slope of the hills on a ledge that overlooked the valley. Flash made out little specks which he knew to be horse- men riding at two-mile intervals along the base of the Out across the valley as far as his telescopic eyes could reach, the tiny specks were moving swiftly across the white snow. The reports of irregular rapid-fire shooting drifted up to him through the clear air. No ranchman « the Little Big Horn slope. n #. = meg His Mistress Seemed Meat That the Smatler Species to Prefer Came From had need to ask what his neighbor would do after listen- ing to the chorus of the pack. At day- light the fastest horses stood sad- dled in front of every house and a relay string to which any rider was welcome was held in each cor- ral. On every commanding knoll a rider lolled in the saddle, ready to dash down upon any hard-pressed wolf which another should bring his way. From the dirt roof of every log cabin a man swept the country with pow- erful glasses for signs of an approaching race, his horse standing “I'll Have a Word With Her Before She Goes" rifle butt from the saddle scabbard. These Northern wolves were ac- customed to the deep snow under the heavy trees where men traveled hey had not yet learned the lesson of with a showing be lk WwW slowly on webs. T the hard-running horses and hard-riding men of the open range—and most of them died as they learned. That night when Flash and Silver made another kill there were but five of the pack who answered the call to feast. Flash and Silver left them early and started on. The coyote brain warned the lobo of the danger of killing too often in one place. For almost two months they wandered on across several states, seldom killing in the same place twice. They followed down the narrow valley of the Cache La Poudre, bedding down each day far back in the hills. Silver felt great confidence in the judgment of this mate of hers, yet there were certain habits of his which she could never learn to view complacently. Often at night he went close to the dwellings of men, even sniffing round their corrals and barns. Flash knew that men were nearly powerless in darkness and their eyes very weak at night. but Silver only knew that the man scent meant death for wolves and she scrupulously avoided it. Then, too, meat was meat to Silver, but Flash killed only beef. His pride had been the charge of handling Moran’s horses and now he never would turn his teeth against a horse. The cross currents were still at work in Flash. In the old days he had longed for the wild; now that he was wild he felt the call to be near man. When with Moran his dreams had been of the phantom shapes of the wolf pack. Now his dreams were all of men. Most often he was back in the Land of Many Rivers with Moran and always in his dreams his former master was associated with the girl. His soft whimpering roused Silver. Her irritable nip always brought him back to the grim present and he was awake, the cold yellow eyes sweeping the country for sign of his most bitter enemy man. (Continued on Page 36

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST LE, believe the Hup- mobile to be the best car of its class in the world. Eight years ago we first ex- pressed this conviction. We were strong and sincere in our belief then. Now, it is shared so widely by others that it has virtually become the eeneral consensus of opinion. Lest in its class.18.a strong phrase, but—isnt it a fact that you constantly hear it applied to The Comfort Car?

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST Continued from Page 34 Oo re P tr f i é ed fror He t of I ed of j ‘ tl i i | ‘ I h the , } ’ ' ly ‘ ! ‘ ‘ ’ j rt la i } f He ‘ " ( I i ‘ pe 1ada i ft-fox de | had found hole and a sp te yf na ne e and r pul ind ed food Phe ad me hea iril \ led fort] ty ht { lange he t Wier had passed he-wolf form and lepi ght The day ’ t t ame he rough coun ler River ilver grew less and far and panted heavily when she ran the ! and th warm wind sof- of pots tnat had bDiown free place whe tne earth wa deep and Flast atched her and when she the e he oK her place, tearing ( forepa and pushing it out t ( from |! vat, and ‘ A p le e these d " g at his ap ert ner snre slashes and One he came home to e den. Soft snifflings and squeak {the hol As he prepared to enter ' ¥ it ar he wished to know more of the | three ee) id tfora pon thesu ope for the f me. Every night he e det nd tl is the result. He la e nosed the er and Silver » De r gh when he rolied them t i | ) py the cde vhich was just ‘ ild have been induced to He had seen Moran dig out the Cree Onee mon, the ranger Ha lropped into it tick of omething ttached. Shortly after they ran of seve ral, uns and Flash gut the cru ed bodies of a co e spent the d ilone in the ! f foot! eaving « the A Sj p ild follow they were aught the arts of hunting and the eT vig ght Fla lipped up to the der ' At i! ‘ I the previous day e to the de Silver had run true to irted witht e pup as soon as he was t and had diffused and her trail Che night frost had f Flash had circled for miles in the effort to pick up the but could find no trace of it, and there was no an- wer to his calls. Far to the north Silver and the sturdy pups were travel- ing steadily, headed for the she-wolf’s old hunting grounds, from which the winter’s famine had driven her. Just at daybreak she turned on the crest of a divide and gazed back along her trail, then loosed one last wail for the mate that never came, and journeyed on to the north. Flash too was starting for his old home—the Bar T range. The third day he spent on the rim of the Wind River hills, awaiting nightfall before venturing down among the famil- scent, iar scenes of the Grey Bull. At the upper end of the valley, where it was narrowest, he crossed to the foothills that flanked the other side and started down to the Bar T ranch When thirty miles from his destination a point of light in a shallow foothill basin caught his eye. He drew near and partly circled the cabin, undecided whether to go on or not. He did not know this place. Moran had never taken him to Brent’ The lighted window attracted him and he trotted close. Several horses stood saddled in the yard Flash slipped to the door and sniffed along the crack. The tobacco smoke drowned the individual scent of each man within, but the general air of the place and the murmur of liking. There was something vaguely and unpleasantly familiar about it all; and sud- denly th his spine as he recalled the night at Two Ocean Pass when he had searched among the bald ; and heavy spruce for the phantom camp which he the voices and smells that had reminded him were not to his » hair rose alon ridge never found of Brent. He reared to his great height, rested his forepaws on the window ledge and looked inside. Three men sat there with Brent the face of one f1 sprouted at A ragged scar lined om ear to chin and his stubbly red beard ‘ angles along the line of it, lending a to his face. Another was a dark, slender- faced man with a hint of the Oriental in look and manner. The head of the third was wide and flat on top, slanting dewn abruptly to his pointed chin, which gave a foxlike cast to his triangular countenance At a sudden move from the man with the dropped from the window and as his feet ground the glass crashed above him and there was a jar- ring report from within. He ran muffled roar sounded twice again. Che man had leaped suddenly to his feet and at the look dropped flat to the floor as he shot eccentri inister twist scar Flash touched the November 29, 19/9 twice across them at the window. Brent swept the lantern from the table, and another from his prone position fired through the door,'then followed his shot and sprang outside. They scattered through the night and threw themselves flat upon the ground. Twenty minutes later Brent’s voice broke the silence ‘“*What the hell started you off that way, Hanlin?” he demanded. ‘I’ve made a circle round and there’s no one near.” “‘He was at the window,” Hanlin said. “Ask Harte Didn’t Harte open on the door at the same time?” ““Mere presence of mind,” a cool voice answered from the night. “I didn’t see a soul. When you started shoot ing I took it for granted they had jumped us and cleared the door fora break outside. You’re getting spooky, Red.”’ ‘I saw him, I tell you!”” Hanlin snapped. ‘‘He was looking in at us.”’ “We can easily tell,’”’ said Harte. He strode to the window and sheltered a match with his hand while he studied the ground beneath it. The others peered dowr over his shoulder at the big prints in the dust. “A stray dog,” Harte said indifferently. dently looked like a marshal to Red.” ““He makes a track as big as that beast Clark Moran had,” said Brent. He traced a finger along a ridge in his scalp and swore. “I'd like to have got a chance at that big gray brute before the Bar T outfit killed him off.” “It’s proof of a low order of mentality to let hate stew up the system until the fumes go to the head—especially anything so simple You had one fight over him with a man you couldn’t afford to have on your trail; but then you always were more or less of a fool, Brent,’’ Harte remarked dispassionately. ‘‘Let’s go in.”’ The fourth man had not spoken a word. Once Red Hanlin laughed hoarsely. “*Look at Fox,” he said. Fox Jarrat’s triangular face still twitched from the recent strain and his little wide-set eyes glittered dangerously. ““Nerves!”’ said Harte. ‘‘Without brains.”” He flipped a coin in the air, caught it deftly on the muzzle of his gun and balanced it with a steady hand. “You're a cold-blooded fiend for a fact,” with grudging admiration. ““Warm-blooded,”’ Harte corrected, “but cool-headed Let’s start. We can ride to the snow line and you bring the horses back.” They left the cabin, riding single file up a gulch that led away into the hills. Ten miles farther down the Grey Bull, Flash, too, was heading for the hills. Sut he evi- as hate for a dog inside, Brent grunted Continued on Page 145 They Had Not Yet Learned the Lesson of the HardsRunning Horses and Hard:Riding Men of the Open Range —and Most of Them Died as They Learned

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The Noncoms of Industry heat i ‘ i f re i ‘ ia pi ! ‘ ‘ i he { . tt t ! } ! ‘ il ” ‘ licer of he he one per lirect tact the kman and from m tl the lab« ; Isne pla ne impre method Phe cc compat ypt ome for instructed in the primary eco nomics of industrial manage ment. Success is thereby doubly i ured John Calder is a leader among those one-time manaye! who have embraced thi idea, He contends that there is great pe ril in permitting vital questions to be fought out between ignorant change on one hand and ignorant opposition to change on the other. As we become better in- formed we are demanding more and more that all progran of reconstruction be submitted to the teat of economi We can he longer live ally in isolation Employer ind workmen in one plant and in one industry must fuse their ef forts with owners and employee in other industries, There must be a plan that permits of self- expression and self-determina- tion on the part of the workman that industrial interest in everything touches hil Success can come only through rome of pecialized But to get this very « ential result we must first « tablish a prac- tical and satisfactory form of democracy in industry. We need never expect a certain amount the ecor large-scale production to get along without of economic friction; that is the inevitable price we must pay for a democratic basis of existence, and the cost Is not too high. However, the present time is a day of varied so complex what the and just ind that many bewildering theories oO numerous executives are uncertain as to average workman doe inrest in labor circles It is a mistake to attribute present to the great war The recent conflict did intensify our problems, but most of the ds now being put forward by emple yet ire based on old claims which heretofore had ot been genera recognized and almost never conceded. Workmen now want to be treated as intelligent partici k pators in industry and not merely as the sellers of a com modity. They want to be consulted, to have some things explained to them ithe l t instance, not merely thrown it them or arbitrarily imposed on them by bulletins or orders to which they were i party Though emmy ers have compre hended this new ittitude of ere are still a host of owners who WoOrTkKinie of the last century ‘an't we and say: ‘*¢ ver methods cling to the ide do anything we like and ad ypt whate we choose to us?” iw forbidding an owner an independent plan, but if he is wise he will in handling the things that belong The an to follow such wer is tha here ee the folly of playing a lone hand with the interests of thers, for no important busine -day is a one-man iffair the public and the state must be considered a well as the management and the me Basing his conclusions on studies in hundreds of plants in America and in Europe, Mr. Calder says: “It is abso- lutely necessary that foremen should bring economic edu- cation into the work of governing men. Many concerns DECORATION THE SATURDAY EVENING POST EVERYBODY By F loyd W. Parsons RICHTER WILMER J. have failed to sell company policies to their own foremen. Some of these minor bosses actually know less about indus- trial relations than many of their own workmen. How can such foremen reconcile labor differences at their inception? ‘This is not wholly the fault of the foremen. They are usually selected largely for their technical proficiency in their own particular branch and then are forgotten by the management so far as the engineering of men is concerned. The generous treatment of foremen and the steady draw- ing out of their capacities for leadership and for interpret- ing to workmen the policies and ideals of liberal-minded owners is the open secret of some of our most happy and successful businesses, that the workman often entertains fallacies and misconceptions about industry, to clings tenaciously and to which many of our foremen, who are frequently the sole source of enlighten- ment, are not qualified to mgke an adequate response. loo often during periods of industrial friction foremen are mere onlookers when they might be efficient leaders and molders of thought among the small groups which “Conferences have shown whicl he thev si pervise. ‘Here are a few ideas which guide the in judging his employer: average workman “He is all for the direct, the concrete and the personal. “He frequently believes that all his aspirations could easily be satisfied here and now out of present profits and with no more production. “He often claims that raising the sales price will settle all of his employer's difficulties, reward them both more libe ‘rally and possibly reduce the effort demanded of them. “When the obvious objection to this in its effect on all other trades and commodities is pointed out he says, ‘Well, let them pass the raise on also.’ November 29, 1919 workmen act on the conviction that to employment and labor “Not a few it is a distinct advantage to restrict output and that in doing so they are per- forming a moral duty to themselves and their trades Finally, the average workman is little interested in community or national welfare. Also, the pub- lic interest as a rule is too remote for him to be influenced by it. “These statements may be commonplaces in the industrial world, but let me emphasize that they are commonplaces to which several thousand foremen have no effective answer. It is my ex- perience that bosses ranging from twenty-five to sixty-five years of age can be sufliciently edu- cated in a very short time by intensive processes to appreciate the industrial and human engineering of their job and to apply such teaching with enthusiasm in their daily routine. “Education for leadership in handling men and things has usu- ally been concentrated on young men preparing for the higher po- sitions, but the workman makes and has his differ- ences with theforemanand judges his employer accordingly.” “That sounds like good logic, Mr. Calder,”’ said I, “but will you tell me in brief just what explanation you render to the foremen you meet in conference concerning the present high-cost- of-living problem? As I under- stand it, the foremen as a class have profited far less than labor inrecent years. The topic of high prices must be a popular one just now with salaried bosses.”’ ‘Here is the simple answer,” said he. “I will divide it into four parts: economics his contacts “Mankind can only have what it earns. The fifty-fifty dollar is due chiefly to the scarcity of goods and services. We must continue our war thrift and dili- gence until our debts are paid. “No juggling or jockeying by law, compromise or force with wages and hours of labor will bring the desired ease and comfort unless it is associated with greater effort or better directed effort. “The effects of proposed conscription of wealth cannot be confined to the rich. They spread everywhere and the poor are least able to beat them. Private industry can always produce more goods at-less cost than socialized industry. “The laws of economics are as rigid and immutable as the laws of physics. It would be just as easy to produce per- petual motion as to provide for a community which goes indifferently through the motions of production and then calls upon its government to divide something which it has not produced. **Let me add further that the workman will be contented if he obtains: Security of employment. A voice in fixing employment conditi A fair share of the profits. Working hours yielding reasonable leisure Prevention of profiteering Suitable housing and welfare provisior Economic instruction. Opportunity to rise. ne ‘The contented workman will coéperate if there is: Elimination of all suspicion of his employer. Creation of confidence between him and the executives, Recognition of mutual interest in industry. Creation of machinery for facilitating acquaintance. Absence of all paternalism in industrial relations. “In conclusion,” said Mr. Calder, “‘let us not forget that contentment in the workman is purely relative. In democratic industry and life a healthy discontent is the normal attitude of forward-looking people. Hence it is (Continued on Page 40

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST Sixty thousand Republic Trucks are daily doing not only extra- ordinary things—but positively heroic things, in every conceiv- able kind of hauling. The volume of proof back of the Republic is greater than any other truck in the world is able to present. REPUBLIG TRUGKS Republic Motor Truck Co., Inc., Alma, Michigan .~ ge * — REPUBLIG as ie 4 x ‘4

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Continued from Page 38 employers to aim at and plan for a ya ation of human units as some have ‘ slike should be encouraged in self- ifficient education about the nature elf-determination intelligently.” Experiments in Industrial Democracy TIist f rn ire no longer devoting their atten W t t iu ilexpedients, but are spending thought the J ertain industrial principle rhe causes of bu é efficic es and unrest are deep-seated. Expedi iy be | but they afford only temporary re ! Kiver pla thy of notice mu be founded on a lt e. It ta question as to whether a method ! i or @ year, but whether it is perma ‘ i rhe fundamental laws governing humanity ‘ is the primary law i phy ics or astronomy The la fy t till on the job notwithstanding the t that the airplane enables man to climb a few miles up ! t i t n busine the old natural laws con t i¢ to endure, notwithstanding the occasional adop- tion of freak methods or policies by numerous misguided dividua More than thirt ears ago there was quite a movement in the leading countries toward the establishment of profit- ’ i heme Phe plar then lost headway and on! in recent yea! has again come up for close attention, It is appropriate therefore at tl time to state briefly a few facts relating to employees’ profit-sharing plans that are taken from the experience of mar industrial concern First and fore most is the truth that no profit-sharing scheme can be ubstituted successfully for a proper and adequate wage puyt ent ter \ wvreat sutomobile corporatior recently adopted a lifty-tifty profit-sharing plar The compal pecified that ts permanent capital should get a fixed return of seven and i half per cent. An additional three per cent was charged off for depre i ind one per cent was or lered set aside for a rai lu Here we had one of the most carefully rked tt t haring plar ever devised, yet only ne eek before the ty} fit vere di buted the compar bourse iverted a trike and the workers demanded i twenty-five pe ent advances are Only afew weel later real st e did o r and conditions generally are not yet settled More } fit ng plar have failed tha have eoded, | mit es where tl here as d tinued the manager immed that ¢ | ot were pl i { the motive tn 1 the plat I'he Treque harged the compar h falsifying the bo ind nearl i n lean yea en no bonuses were distributed, charged the corporatior th holding back earning In several nstan the worke themsel ve reque ted | her wage nstead of a possible share in the company’s profits, Pra ill ilwa there was a spirit of “gimme mine now The Federal Department of Labor in Washington ir estigated twenty xX Cause where protit-sharing policies follow In ere abandoned he reasons given were as eight cases the plar lid not itisfv employees In five the men went out « trike In five more the men preferred in increase In pa In four the plan failed to increase efhimency In twe he scheme benefited undeserving em ployer I ne case the plan did not tend to increase the tability of the abor fe ( ind in another instance the cheme was ad ontinued because of the general upwa d trend of wage i petitior \ f which presents the general pla " ha na rather unfavorable light But most of the pla { rewarding employees depend for their succes por estment or thrift feature that sise the t of the f st tly} t-sharing scheme i eve f h plans have sh a tence to ed ea ‘ i ! legree of eff er based the } 1 the yeu t W e manage iow rea ‘ et 1 ot re ird for emp ees to tm et le | 1 proper re with of u | lual a ‘ If adequate wags are paid there is little nec for profit sharing. Shoulda company entoy nu " erit there ' h to be gained and little to be listribut in unexpected bonus among works vy} ar eady rece ny a wage that ts Just and Ir ent yea ve are hea y much about industrial democra here are a dozen different ideas concerning the real meaning i the te One such scheme that 1s ntere ‘ ‘ leveloped by John Leitch Variou ompanies have adopted deas and report satisfactory ident of one large corpora t iys of the pla ‘We inaugurated industrial demo ra n our plant nearly three years ago and it appears to he 1 solution for most of our labor problems The heme we use modeled after the Federal Constitution f the United State We havea ibinet composed of the THE SATURDAY EVENING POST executives of the company, a senate composed of the fore- men and heads of departments and a house of representa- tives elected by the whole body of workers. ‘“*Meetings are held once a week and such questions as wages, hours of work, holidays, quality and quantity of production, sanitation, labor turnover and similar prob- lems are thoroughly discussed by the senate and the house, which meet separately on the company’s time. The cabi- net has the power of veto, but during the two years or more that industrial democracy has been in operation at our never exercised this power, there having been plant it has no occasion for such action ‘The success of our plan is based upon the confidence and codperation of the whole body of workers. Our scheme provides for a dividend system by which the company and hare fifty-fifty any saving in the cost of through increased output The dividend is paid every two weeks in a separate envelope marked Employee’s Dividend.’ In two this biweekly dividend has never been less than six and a half per cent and it has been as high as seventeen and a half per cent. In addition to establishing a happy relationship between the employees production, whether gained or through a saving in overhead expenses. years management and workers the plan has enabled us to turn more and better goods, We than half a century and this is the best move we out have been in business for more r made rhe concern of its kind in I tion is the largest manufacturing the world and employs company in que about one thousand men The president’ picture however, does not complete the Let us get the employees One of who is a member of the house of | have seen this plan of industrial democracy in operation for more than two years and I’m for the scheme. through it I can always get a quare deal. Under the old system a man with cause for dissatisfaction would often keep his grievance to himself, Frequently he would trouble until it became so large he would finally job in disgust. But now this does not occur. story, ’ point of view the company’s workers, representatives, says because r tell other employee about it. nurse his throw up hi rhe big bosses in the cabinet if it should be necessary to go that far find that industrial democracy not permit little troubles to grow up to Nowadays foreman urging the need for it worker knows he can carry his grievance up to the to get Justice However, we doe be big one at our plant you never hear the There is no We all know that by doing our best all the men to get on tne job. time we are increasing our own dividends. At present when a man knocks off early, comes in late or takes a holiday it is not the boss who wants to know the reason why but the other workers whose dividends he is lowering. now it is all here twenty such a general desire to In the old days it and and never ha was every man for himself; ] for one one for all ! have worked there been cooperate “Our new plan of industrial proved that many of our men had valuable their minds. Some of these plans in- cluded practical suggestions for bettering the efficiency of but the owners of the ideas in the old days Said another employee: democracy ha ideas locked up in machine would not divulge their thoughts because they were not management would accord their all know that a good idea will not ly be welcomed but will be rewarded. As a result labor-saving machinery which has been invented by the men at the plant. This is lower- ing asing production and earning greater divi- der ds for all of u Industrial our in the management of the plant; it has given us insurance and a J sure what schemes reception the To-day we we and e adding more more a costs, inere democracy has given us say lunch room where we can get good meals for twenty cents; it has reduced our working hours per week from fifty- forty and is teaching English to our for- rs; last, but least, it has taught us that the man- the we have and that by all benefit.” three to eight elgme not ayement has worries just same as working and cooperating together we In most profit-sharing plans the workers never seem to understand the inevitable variation in the company’s percentage of profit It is also true that employees see an njustice in their being made to suffer for losses resulting from bad sales, poor financing and unprofitable merchan- dise investments, all of which are beyond the workers’ control, Men who labor want their share of the earnings indefinite When divi- dends come along with the pay envelope it soon happens ow; not some day in an future that the employee grasps the connection between what he gets and idle machine hirkers or inveterate holiday Only the future will tell to democracy can caused by eeKeTS industrial Cer- tain authorities say that the basic principles can be made to fit any organization. The disturbing question in the minds of many employers is: “ Will not such a plan under- authority?” In answer to this one manager “In our case industrial democracy has not in the slightest impaired the authority of the employer. On the contrary our authority has been strengthened by reason what extent be applied in the nation’s business. mine my replies: November 29, 19/9 of the fact that no important action is taken without the approval of the employees through their representatives. As a result of democracy we find that any one of our work- ers who is inclined to be troublesome has to reckon with the full force of the opinion of his fellow workers, and, believe me, this is a factor that possesses quite some persuading power.” Prices and Prospects ‘ee is the sparkle in the sapphire,”’ said a famous automobile manufacturer talking to a num- “Better methods come when the boss warms to his men—for then and only then will the men warm to the boss. The secret of advertising and goods is a thorough understanding of the action of what we Sight, feeling, smell, taste and hearing. To these we really should add a sixth sense, known as equilibrium, or balance. This latter sense depends upon certain little canals in the ear. Alcohol paralyzes them “In every advertisement there is a chance to satisfy two or more of the six senses. In selling the finished car to a prospective customer there is again opportunity as well as necessity to satisfy requirements. ‘““When the car is sold the sale is not complete by any means. In fact the chief transaction has just begun. If the manufacturer has not supplied quality goods; if the advertising has deceived; if the salesman has exaggerated; if the car offends —then look out for a little advertising of your product by the dissatisfied customer. Though the ads he prepares for you will be free of charge, they will be the most expensive and damaging announcements you ber of salesmen. el ing call the five senses: ever got out. “‘In every business in so far as it is successfully adapted to the needs of a cer- 4 man who gets a certain article or product succeed tain class of people a little money and i tired of walking aspires to own a car and generally buy the cheapest one made. When he perity which enables him to advance a step higher in the hes a degree of pro social scale he chooses a slightly better car. Then he want to pass his neighbor on the hills and he gets a machine wit} more power. Now the wife puts a hedge round the front yard and buys a phonograph and the family has to get a If he goes on up the scale, and buys the best motor made. price to do with car of style and individuality again he changes “‘Now what has sale of anything? the advertising and In every city there are three eparate and distinct merchandising street One where price is the sole governing factor; the second where both price and quality influence the sale; and a third where style alone Each manufacturer must first of all select ther predominates. a“ class of people to whom he is goin to sell and remember that no one concern can sell them all “It’s a good idea also to know just how large are the various classes of prospective customers. We have mort than one hundred million people in the United States, but last year only 437,036 paid an income tax. A great major ity of our six million farmers didn’t show up at all. A recent census informs us that there are 27,304,177 family in the country. Of these, 7,288,000 report an income of $850 or less. There are 15,542,000 with income between $850 and $1500. Only 2,798,000 get from $1500 to $2000 and 1,247,000 incomes between $2000 and $3000. Of the remaining families, 157,000 average up to $5000, while 150,500 get between $5000 and $10,000. Only 121,699 family groups receive an annual income of more than $10,000. Such figures indicate the size of field that exists for the sale of articles of different prices. “Many salesmen complain because they every prospect. The real truth is that generally speaking six out of ten possible customers are not the right peopl to own the particular car in question. Too many of us underestimate the importance of concentrating our efforts upon that class to which our merchandise is intended to appeal. “Again let me repeat that price has nothing to do with rr nD grou] annua have 1) cannot sell it above a specified class. Here is a cake of a certain famous soap. How much have I paid for it? A few women might be able to answer, but if they had to spend a few cents more to get this same soap they would gladly do so The fact is the article does not sell on price alone. The real salesman to-day talks price last, not first.” Men and Machines HILE I was sitting in a corner of the Engineers’ Club writing several letters two men occupied the seat just behind me. Both of them were noted in affairs of management. One of them was famous as the originator of celebrated factory methods and a leader of modern in- dustrial thought. What was said was not expressed i: confidence and so I betray no friendship in repeating a bit of the conversation that passed. The theme was the oldest and yet the newest that men discuss— management “Do you know,” said the elder man, “‘that our know!- edge of such things as chemistry and physics is running away with us? A lot of knowledge of one science is a dangerous thing if not accompanied by equal knowledge (Concluded on Page 157)

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_— — THE SATURDAY EVENING POST 41 —— Pathe Feature Photoplays reveal the Progress in Motion Picture Art, an Art which had its Origin with Pathé. HE first motion picture feature, a scant two hundred feet in length, but truly picturizing a written story and enacted by experienced actors, was made by Charles Pathé over twenty years ago. Never before had a story been put into a motion picture ! The frst comedy, the frst drama and the frst of the longer pictures were all made by Pathé. More than fifteen years ago Pathé was reproduc- ing in picture form the works of famous novelists and playwrights,—the very frst company to see the necessity for giving to the public for its enter- tainment the best work of the best minds. Thus each step in the evolution of the well written, well directed and well acted feature of t “lay was first taken by this great pioneer. And today, as yesterday, Pathé Photo- plays present the best in authorship, direction, acting and production. Among the producers are Frank Keenan, Hobart Henley, Edgar Lewis, J. Stuart Blackton, Albert Capellani, Leonce Perret, Edwin Carewe and Jesse D. Hampton. Man for man, measured by achievement, these producers have no superiors in the business. on - : ; ; ———__ Ask the manager of your favorite theatre when he will show Hobart Henley’s ‘“The Gay Old Dog’’, adapted from Edna Ferber’s story; Blanche Sweet in ‘‘A Woman of Pleasure’’, produced by Jesse D. Hampton and adapted from James Willard’s famous play; Albert Capellani’s ‘The Right to Lie’’, with Dolores Cassinelli; and J. Stuart Blackton’s ‘‘Dawn’’. They are first presented this month. me Pathé Exchange, Inc., 25 West 45th Street, New York City. oy, > > Charles Pathe

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[ fathe and tepmother came to meet Jim in | ma and bore him homeward in the power boat. enal em to land directly at the house on the point outside eattle without a passage through the t x hr , d stripes and the family’s eminence would ike things tediou But all the way up the chilly PAC f Puget Sound Mrs. Cre ey talked about the new English governe f } mall half sisters, and Jim wor dered, shuddering a trifle, if one of her matchmaking fits had seized his father’s wife. She was most voluble. Miss Robinson played splendid golf; she was pretty; people who came out to the house for dinner liked her. Jim finalls pri ned ‘Where did you catch this paragon?’ ‘Why,’ said Mrs. Crossley, ‘we had to advertise. Just by accident she saw the advertisement in the paper. She was staying in Victoria with her uncle, so she came over. She’s such a relief after the last one, Jimmy. I’m sure you'll like her. Won't he, dad?” “He'd ought to,"’ Crossley drawled. your coat, brother. This fog’s pretty cold for an invalid. There was a soft mist hanging low on the grim water, hiding the coves of the familiar shore. Jim sighed happily. The mist and the gray swells were as usual. His father seemed little aged in two years, though he had slipped Setter put on pust ixty ‘You haven't done anything to the house while I’ve been making a fool of myself, have you, dad?” ‘Painted your bathroom olive drab, brother. Thought you'd like it. Painted it all myself. Sort of streaky, but it’s dry, anyhow Have a cigar?” By this offer Jim knew that his father was inwardly jubilant. He expressed joy by offering infamous cigars of a brand sacred to retired sea captains and lumberjacks. Jim blinked into the mist ahead. It was much easier to endure battle and decoration to music than his father’s price I hope I’ve got some « lothes left,” he remarked. The lean boat lunged on through the swells and presently the great mountain showed itself for a moment, distinct as if painted on the colorle ky. Then the launch veered in toward the point of pines and dull turf. Jim saw the totem pole on the rocky beach below the red house and waved hi cap to it There’s Miss Robinson with the girls on the pier,” said No, don't freeze up, Jimmy You're hi tepmother always so icy to girl Jim resented Miss Robinson. A stranger had no busine at the house when he wanted to be alone with his father, but she receded skillfully after introduction and reminded Cora that it might be injudicious to hug a person with such a long hospital record, so he felt grateful “Oh, she ill right,”’ Crossley said later in the afternoon, tramping up and down Jim's room with a poisonous cigar. “Pretty nice girl. Had two brothers killed off, she says. She won't gush over you ne ther I expect she from nice people About this hole in your arm now?” Seattle ent out emissari and reporter to question Jim, and his friend bothered him for three das The latene of his return gave him a flavor of novelty, he im agreed, nodding his cropped white he 1a ‘All the other hero s have gone back to work or they're borrowing money oT they've got married and the weather ain't awful good, either, so peo ing for a long time, thoug! Mighty restful having you in THE SATURDAY EVENING POST the house. I’m kind of sick of female society and the gar- dener’s a bullshevik. I expect he’ll burn us out some night.” “Oh, about that, dad—have you made or lost? Some of the men in town talk as though they’d been cleaned out.” “*Made some and I don’t expect Liberty Bonds count for a loss neither. This girl says that lots of the rich By the way, got enough education left to tell what it means when you write ‘honorable’ front of an Englishman’s name?” “It might mean a lot of things—member of parliament, perhaps, or—let’s see—-oh, the sons of some of the peers are called the Honorable So-and-So. I think it’s the younger sons of an earl or the sons of a viscount—I’m not sure. Why?” “Been a heap of Englishmen in town lately,” said Crossley. ‘‘Come on down and caddy for me.” The small colony played golf on the rocky, grass- covered beach below the steep bluff. This was Sunday and people called down from the verandas to them as his father ambled along the makeshift course, playing with a monotonous badness enjoyable to watch and swearing gently. Crossley preferred this retirement to the house in Seattle and Jim thought of the red cottage as home rather than the white limestone modern dwelling used in winter. The point hid the city and the huge pines gave the bunga- lows an air of absolute shelter. Jim hoped that his father’s rheumatism would not return with autumn—he must begin to be careful. After sixty arteries harden. Crossley doubled his bulk over a putt and missed the hole by six inches. “This is the damfoolest game the Lord ever let folks waste their time over, brother. Miss Robinson says it’s Scotch. I thought better of the Scotch. It gets in your system, though. Good for old men, I expect.” Miss Robinson came down the wooden steps that ran obliquely through the brush of the bluff and announced luncheon. The hidden sun touched her hair info color and her tweed skirt blew a little. Jim admired her suddenly. She fitted the rough scene well and she laughed respectfully at his father’s last shot. ‘Oh, you'd better play with brother here when his arm's limbered up, young woman, then you won't be able to get sniffy about me any more. Got any history knocked into Cora and Grace this morning?” ‘I think I’ve convinced Grace that Queen Elizabeth really existed. But somehow the Tudors seem awfully dead in Seattle.” Jim wondered whether his father knew the difference in English dynasties. He read profusely and sometimes astonished the family with strange bits of knowledge. He did so now. ‘‘ Used to be a drunken Britisher in Leadville when I was a boy that said he was descended from old Charles First’s butler. Acted like it, anyhow. Well, there's another good ball knocked to smith- ereens. Come along, brother.” English are busted flat these days. “ Weuldn’t You be Ashamed if You'd Had Teid You Since You Were Old Enough to Understand That You Must Make a Good Match November 29, 19/9 Thomas Beer Leadville? The great mining town? What were you doing there?’’ asked Miss Robinson, and laughed. ‘* You never were a miner too?” “Oh, everyone that was footloose and free went to mining back then. I picked up enough to get to San Francisco on. I was sixteen. Chopping trees was easier than swinging a pick. Miners are born, not made, I guess.”” He looked at his big shapely hands and shook his head. “Awful stiff work, mining. I'd a heap rather play golf.” Plainly Miss Robinson enjoyed Crossley’s amiable, drifting talk about the lumber camps of the Coast and his holidays in the old San Francisco. “My grandfather went there about 1860. He thought it very shocking and rowdy, but I fancy he had a very good time.” “Well,” said Crossley, “it was rowdy all right. Course I wasn’t there when Miranda and his bunch ran the town. Used to kill off twenty or thirty men a week and no ques- tions asked. Some say Miranda was a son of Louis Napoleon, but I guess that’s a lie. They hung him and then things quieted down. Brother's grandfather helped get him hung. Brother’s grandfather was from Boston and he had ideas about morals and things. I expect he thought San Francisco was pretty rowdy too. What was your grandfather doing there?” “Just touristing,’’ Miss Robinson smiled. Jim’s shoulder permitted him to play golf soon and he beat Miss Robinson daily before breakfast. After some fugitive loves and a passion or two it was startling to find that he could regard this girl as peculiarly meant for him, and Jim was frightened into a childish shy state where the only topic possible was his father. “Tt’s charming to hear him eall you ‘brother’ con- stantly,” she said one morning walking to a green. ‘‘ That’s so American too."’ They holed in while she still smiled. She continued: ‘‘He talked of you incessantly before you came and he’s quite devoted to you. He’s astonishing really! Is it true that he never went to school? It seems quite absurd.” She drove off briskly and the ball flickered among the hazard flat rocks, struck one and rapped the base of the totem near the lowest carved head--a bird. They went to find it and the girl stared up at the thick pole, cracked and fading. Jim remembered its garish greens and yel- lows. It rose tifty feet ; “I’m quite ig- ‘ norant about In- " , dian things. Just f eu! >” what isatotem? Exactly the ame thing as a coat of arms. It’s , ee a2, the history of a if tribe, if you know how to read it. I don’t. This isn’t real of course. Dad had it made when I was a kid. Told me he'd give me ten dollars when I could climb to the top. That’s the way I got my arm broken the first time.” **But, of course, he was frightfully pleased that you did try to climb it? He would be. He’s sO very proud of anything you do. It must worry you a bit, doesn’t it, for fear you might dis- appoint him?” She said all this rather breathlessly, looking up at the totem’s ugly heads and intricate carv- ing. “I try not to dis- appoint him,” Jim assured her, sorry that the breakfast gong was ringing. Continued on Page 44

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a — “Horse Sense” Foresight is the searchlight of opportu- nity—Traffic owners possess it. ae A motor truck is easier to manage than animal power or man power—because it is always under your control—doesn’t need rest, nor talk back. a a If hauling is a need in your business, it’s good business to learn why a Traffic will fulfill that need. ) Just as the old stage-coach compares with the modern train for traveling, wagons and teams compare with the Traffic Truck for hauling. ) Do your hauling with Traffic Trucks and cut in half the cost of hauling with teams—you can’t make money any easier. ) Well told lies may overshadow truths, but never outlive them. ) Time is man’s greatest asset—the more time saved the more money made—a Traffic does both. ) Traffic Truck Specifications: Red Seal Continental 3°, x 5 motor; Covert transmission; multiple disc clutch; Bosch magneto; 4-piece cast shell, cellular type radiator; drop forged front axle with Timken roller bearings; Russel rear axle, internal gear, roller bearings; semi-elliptic front and rear springs; 6-inch U-channel frame; Stand- ard Fisk tires, 34 x 3'» front, 34x 5 rear; 133-inch wheelbase; 122-inch length of frame behind driver’s seat; oil cup lu bricating system; chassis painted, striped and varnished; driver’s lazy-back seat and cushion regular equipment. Pneu- matic cord tire equipment at extra cost. Chassis $1395 Factory The lowest priced 4,000-lb. capacity truck in the world. Built of stand- ardized units. oF Dealers, Attention If you knew the profits awaiting you in your territory, you would lose no time in securing the Traffic contract if available. It is Traffic policy to make direct con- nections in every city, town and village in the United States. Traffic production for 1920 will be quad- rupled and will enable us to take care of a few additional dealers. You have no time to lose. Fe 2 2 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST ran At Last! Mr. Coal Dealer— Contractor— Builder— and men in the hauling business: Here is what you have been waiting for—the Trathe Truck with a dump-body, at a price so low that you no longer have to wait to equip with this labor, time and money saving hauling unit—$1870 complete. (Painted and varnished, cab, hoist, dump-body and chassis, vo extras required, ) It’s another example of the skill and ingenuity of Traflic engineers and designers to furnish cheaper transportation by producing the lowest priced 4,000-Ilb. capacity truck in the world and equipment in one plant to meet hauling needs ethciently and economically. Write for catalog today Traffic Motor Truck Corporation St. Louis, U. S. A. Largest exclusive builders of 4,000-Ib. capacity trucks in the world ratfic lruck uffic lru MjC

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Continued from Page 42 ympathetic, took pains to tell how well M Robinson dressed and how good an j ng to the little girls. ‘And I’m sure she belongs to a very nice family, Jimmy. he told me that they'd be horrified if they knew she was governess, She send all her letters to this uncle in Victoria and they're mailed from there. When she came t to stay with him she found that he really couldn’t sup port he he ery proud, Dad wants to pay her more, but she says her salary’s six times as much as a governess would get in England.” Oh, that’s wl he gets those enormous envelopes from Victoria? Her uncle sends her her letters that way. I see ‘Jane,” said Mrs. Crossley. “‘Isn’t that quaint?” Jim failed to see that it was quaint. He knew that any ime wo ! have heen eq tally adorable. Hi symptoms were rushing with fearful speed. He could have borne Arabella if that had been her name, ‘I think it would be all right to take her to town, don’t ou? I've known her six weeks and there’s a play at the heater to-night —or couldn't we get a box?” Mr. Crossley formed a white-and-black background for the girl in the box and Seattle bowed civilly. Several oung men came to talk to her over his father’s shoulder ind Jim felt that he might reasonably grow to hate some f his best friends, who came along to supper at the Washingtor *‘Brother,”’ said h you won't get very father over a last dreadful cigar, far with that girl if you sit round and just goggle at her. Brace up! She’s a human being, isn’t he?’ ‘I didn’t think I was showing it as badly as all that, dad?” “You're as plain as a circus poster. What are you talling for?” “Oh,” said Jim, “it’s the money of course. She hasn't any. I suppose her people are stone broke or she wouldn't be out here. If she gets to like me enough she won't care.” “Hell,” yawned his father, ‘‘she likes you! What about You kids always worry about little things too It ain't such an awful thing to have an income, is it? I expect her folks won't mind at all. She don’t talk about them so darned much that it sounds as if she both ered a whole lot what they think. Her mother’s dead, she the old women that do the worrying You brace up, brother, or you'll have young the money? much “uy and it’s alway about money Sandon or some of these other pups climbing the fence on you. You're twenty-seven—time you tried matrimor It the ifest excitement there } inyway. I hope he won't want to trail off to England to get married. I’m getting too old to like traveling in cold weather.” But Jim was too awed for immediate attack, and if she was friendly it was an ingenious, fenced friendliness with a heart of reserve he seldom spoke of England, save in ome comment on the war, Seattle seemed to interest her ‘I suppose it’s insular provincialism and all that, but these cities in Canada and the States, which simply weren't rather frighten me. It's hard to realize that your father. Anything at home is a hundred times as old as any living man, You were born here?” “No, in California. Dad had a lot of lumber there and I happened in one of the camp try a brassy on that.” Miss Robinson used a cleek abstractedly, The ball bounded off into Puget Sound and bobbed away on the water, bright tl morning under a clear sky. The moun vast and white. The girl stared at filty years ago seattie younger than tain showed upert ly it, flicking the grass with her stick, It’s quite lovely here and everything’s so new. At home one feels that it’s all been thought about a million tine befor« Ever thing’s ticketed wit} the proper emo tion, You can look up a lake in Wordsworth and a ruin in cott and be quite ire you're feeling the correct thing 1 think that enough golf for this There vour father con morning, though. ng down the ste ps,” Crossley met them at the totem and leaned against it, He had just found the man burning waste paper in the rose garden. “IT guess he reads all the torn-up letters in the baskets ee if he can find whether I'm oppressing the laboring classes more’n usual. But it ain’t good for the roses to talking about the radical gardener have a bonfire the middie of them. Brother, d’you guess ve ought to have the family tree painted up some more He patted the carved eagle’s beak and smiled at Jim. Miss Robinson laughed “The family tre “Well iid Crossley it’s all the family tree I've got. Once when brothe mamma was alive we were in New York and she made me have my portrait painted and the fellow that did the work wanted to stick my coat of arms flown in the corne that is, the Crossley coat of arms. I mad to laugh! Jim knew what was coming and grinned. His father lit a rarette and went on in the most tranquil drawl \ ee, 1 f 1 parents didn’t have any use for me | wu ! was uncomf ble property or something, so they THE SATURDAY EVENING POST did me up in a red flannel shirt and left me on the door- step of an orphan asylum back in Crossley, Pennsylvania. Didn’t leave any name, neither. Well, the asylum folks called me Walter Johnson until I ran away and took to reading novels when I wasn’t milking cows on a farm. So I got to thinking that Walter Johnson was a dumb kind of name and I changed off for Oliver Wilton; but that was teo aristocratic for a lumberjack and one time I was down in San Francisco—I was eighteen then—and I saw a packing case marked ‘Crossley, Pennsylvania,’ so I thought that’d do and I changed to John Crossley. It’s a pretty fair name and I’ve got a kind of claim on it, you see, and anybody can call himself John without breaking the law. There’s nothing much in names, is there?” “Oh, so very little,” the girl said softly. “So you don’t know anything about your people? That must give you such a—a restful feeling!” She gazed at Crossley throughout breakfast, and for some days seemed to admire him mutely. Jim wondered if her own home was troubled with intrusive relatives and perhaps too much advice. He fancied a flock of aunts and podgy uncles—possibly clergymen. “Your father’s so perfectly honest,” she observed. “I admired him the other morning so much. Most men— most Englishmen—wouldn’t tell such a tale. I mean, successful men.” “I don’t think many Americans would, either,” said Jim. ‘Dad was trying to see if you'd be shocked, I think. He hates snobs. He likes you awfully, you see? He’s very anxious to—to have you for a daughter-in-law—and I am too, I mean—I’m anxious to have him have you for—oh, that’s all balled up! Won’t you marry me?” “You did mix things rather,’ she murmured, looking off at the water. The putter in her brown fingers shook faintly and her gray eyes moistened, ‘“‘Thank you very much, though. I’m awfully sorry.” A flight of sea gulls dipped down out of the mist and shrieked. Jim’s throat stiffened. “If—if you're bothered about the money end of it, that doesn’t matter at all really. I mean, you're frightfully proud, of course. Everyone likes you so much and no one will think about that.” “I'm afraid I have to think about that, Jim. Let’s not talk about it. I literally haven't a penny, beyond what your father pays me. And I am—rather proud. Thanks ever so much, though—your shot.” She was unchanged for the rest of the week, but Jim felt that his emotions were advertised whenever she spoke t him or looked his way. Mrs. Crossley gave two dinners and men roamed out to talk business with his father at trange hours. They appeared in droves when it was time for tea in the garden. Clouds of as many as four settled about the table near the high broom hedge and Crossley scowled warnings at his son. Mrs. Crossley let the girl play hostess and Miss Robinson filled the part charmingly without any sign of boredom, She was gay and friendly to all comers and did not flinch when young Sandon, attempt- ing toemploy English slang, used the fearful word “ bloody.” “The poor child knew no better,” she chuckled. ‘I fancy he’s been reading raucous novels. I thought you were about to assault him, Jim.” “I wanted to,” said Jim, chewing his lip. “Oh, come! I helped run a canteen for a bit at Euston Station and I heard some much worse profanity. You never swear before women, do you? That’s so very decent of you.” “I’m glad I’ve some redeeming features.’ “You've ever so many. Your nose is delightful, for She pulled a tuft of the morbid-smelling metallic broom toward her and sniffed it. ‘Almost makes one homesick—for Devon. Broom and—there’s your father coming back. He wants to talk to you, and I should write some letters.” Crossley stopped her as they met near the steps of the sprawling cottage. Jim could hear them laughing, then she vanished in the veranda and his father ambled over the turf to take her chair. “You look as if you'd lost your last friend, brother. That girl ain’t gone and refused you, has she?” “Last Monday,” Jim said. “Oh, well, try her again about Wednesday,” Crossley advised. “That'll be ten days—genteel wait.” “I don’t see much use,” Jim muttered. “It’s the money, of course ” “Oh, get out!”’ Crossley grunted. “‘She’s got too much sense for that truck. There’s no use in wanting things you can’t get. Maybe she'd like you better poor. She’s awful young and I guess she’s romantical in the head. Some girls think there’s something awful funny and cute about being poor. I should think a dose of governessing’d knock that out of her.”” But he moved uncomfortably and in a moment asked: “She said it was the money?” “Yes,”’ Jim said, and burst out: “Oh, I can see how she looks at it! She’s poor and she’s proud, of course. I dare say her people—her friends rather-—-would say she'd married for money. I don’t blame her for being proud.” I wouldn't like you to marry a woman that wasn’t proud,” Crossley remarked. “‘ Women that ain’t proud are ) instance,”’ November 29, 1/919 likely to stop wearing corsets when they lose their figures and that’s awful. But ——” He sat silent, erect and still in the gay, chintz-padded chairs. Suddenly Jim saw that he was angry. His brown eyes glazed and the lines about his mouth deepened. “Proud, is she? All right! You ask her Wednesday. She’ll take you.” “Oh, look here, dad,” Jim laughed, ““I—I’m not such a damned good bargain as all that!” “You shut up!” said his father, flushing. ‘“‘The best woman going ain’t worth any more’n a good man. You go tell Neilsen I’m going in town after dinner and I’ll want the boat ready at eight. Proud? Well, hell!” Jim was afraid that the old man would show his offense, but Crossley beamed on Miss Robinson at dinner and talked of Victoria, where he owned some property. “We'll all go over some day and call on your uncle. What’s he doing there? Government?” “Real estate, poor dear—Gifford Robinson and Com- pany. I think the ‘company’ is Aunt Eileen. She was his typist and I’m quite sure she knows more about business than he does. You'd like him, though.” She talked of her uncle during golf Monday and Tues- day mornings and it seemed that she must be very fond of him. He had been a great oarsman at Oxford and a cap- tain of yeomanry in the South African War. “‘He’s a dear, big, quiet thing and not at all clever. I’m sure you'd like him.” “‘He wouldn’t resent my being dad’s heir, then?” Jim smiled. “‘Ah, that’s not fair, do you think?” She drove a new ball into the Sound and shrugged. ‘‘ You’re not fair at all! Suppose yourself in my shoes? You took it so nicely last week and now you’re being gloomy about it.” “T thought I was being ironic,” said Jim wretchedly. “But it isn’t fair to tease you.” “It isn’t unfair to tease me,” she retorted, reddening swiftly, and before he could make a meaning out of this she strolled off toward the steps. Either she was offering something or it meant nothing, he decided. After all he had taken the first repulse most tamely. He had not urged. Jim ran after her, but the breakfast gong rattled and his stepmother was on the veranda watching the girl ascend. The little girls were chattering over their grapefruit and Crossley was already talking to Miss Robinson when he entered the dining room. “I’ve got a Britisher coming out to dinner to-night. His name’s Tellford. He’s a banker. Ever hear of him?” “My dealings with bankers are very few and far between. No, I don’t know of him.” “‘He’s a pretty nice fellow,” said Crossley. though. He’ll talk all night if he gets started.” Jim sat considering her through the flowers. It seemed hardly right to wait until to-morrow morning. He might try again after breakfast. He choked in his coffee cup when she looked at him. Mrs. Crossley was reading a New York paper and chose the dullest sections to repeat aloud Her cheerful, stupid voice filled the meal’s pauses. “*What pretty names some of the English families have,”’ she said. “*Maurevarne! How nice that is!” “Only they probably say it Jones,” Crossley mused **How d’you pronounce that, Miss Robinson?” “*Mavven,”’ she said, and bent her face over her plate Jim saw that she was pink and wondered if he had been staring too hard, as her shoulders were nervous. “Such a pity,” Mrs. Crossley sighed. “Listen! The sale of Maurevarne House in North Devonshire has been announced by the Earl of Corways—or do you pronounce that some other way, Jane?” “No, Corways is right,”” Miss Robinson nodded. “I suppose some profiteer bought it,” said Crossley amiably. ‘‘You English have the blamedest hankering for real estate! What's it say about it?” “One of the most celebrated English country houses,”’ Mrs. Crossley read. ‘‘ Been in the possession of the family since 1585. Famous for its gardens and the wonderful carvings in the great hall. Such a pity! A man named Wood's bought it.” “T wish him luck with it,” Miss Robinson snapped. “It’s a perfectly poisonous hole! It takes about a regi- ment of servants to keep it up. The gardens are simply deathly, they’re so run down, and there’s only,one bath in the whole ghastly place. How much did this idiot pay for it?”’ “Thirty thousand pounds,” said Mrs. Crossley “Oh, my word!” gasped the governess. “I wouldn't give sixpence for the thing! Cora, dear, don’t, don’t slouch that way!” “Ever seen the place, Jane?’’ Crossley asked. “Oh, yes, once or twice. It’s quite handsome if you like fossils and coat armour and bad drains. Personally I'd as soon live in Westminster Abbey. Cora, dear, you're getting in your brother’s coffee.” Decidedly he could not wait for to-morrow morning, Jim thought, seeing her color rise and wane. Her eyes were brilliant as if she might be a little angry for his tameness. He followed her out of tae room presently and up the hall to the stairs. Conctuded on Page 46 “Gabby,

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST Lima Bean Croquettes Beans furnish more protein for money thas ot Pie . Oe ae it A fet anc emacheriee nanan aie, meme te ARE SPELT Se put esaiin s+ Lima Bean Crogue urn Use the Large or Baby Lima Beans New Bean Dishes That Save Meat — Your Largest Food Expense HEN all women know that their largest food expense is meat, they will seek ways to cut it down. Let us show you twelve ways to cut meat costs in half while getting the same protein- value that meat supplies. Note three Meatless Menus printed on this page—balanced meals in which succu- lent /ma beans used in attractive new recipes take the place of meat. Then send the coupon for nine others. Note that these menus and recipes are compiled and tested by the School of Do- mestic Arts and Science, Chicago, recog- nized authorities on foods. Try them once daily for two weeks. See how all the family enjoys these delicious foods. Keep close track of your meat bills dur- ing those two weeks and note the savings that result. True Balance Lima beans are rich in protein, the main food element in meat. With the addition of fat they form a per- fect food containing all the nourishment you need. Fats, minerals, salts and starches are sup- plied in the other foods in the menus sug- California Lima Bean Salad gested so each menu makes a balanced meal. You lose no needed food value when you serve meatless meals like these. Send Coupon for All Twelve We send you all twelve menus (intluding the recipe for each lima bean dish) free when you mail the coupon below. Also six additional recipes for cooking lima beans. Send the coupon now. Learn how to cut down meat bills in a most delightful way. Get Real California Lima Beans Your grocer can supply you with genuine California Seaside Lima Beans, either the large or baby size. Either size is equally good in all these rec Ipes. They are tender, sweet and thin-skinned, the easiest beans to cook. Don’t confuse with ‘‘wax’’ and “‘butter’’ beans. Once you taste the Seaside Brand, grown near the sea, you'll always want these beans. CALIFORNIA Both sizes are selected from California’s finest crops. Both are equally good in all recipes Tender, thin-skinned, sweet, nut- EASID LIMA BEANS E BABY LIMAS like in flavor. Rich in building protein. The “protein beans that take the pla e of meat. California Lima Bean Growers Association Dept. C. OXNARD, CALIFORNIA Try These Now Note the Recipes Meatless Menu No. 4 ! Ihe fruit salad the meal and take tk ! Fruit Wal Recipe for Lima Bean Croquettes Cold water t eT ! Meatless Menu No. 5 , 4 I B i Mf Recipe for Lima Bean Salad Meatless Menu No. 3 Apy I I Recipe for Lima Bean Soup 7

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e al i put t er on the land face et and her tter? Pile ise p9 M Robinson, i ‘ far et me I erable. Please go t before noon and i eacn, f. H lhu f e- It to fault He had ' 9 fast. He had not f ! t eto! h and p the t ! int 1. They f er table, but Jim t e down in bla and 1 the living ule the | Da er stare Jim ered i low ! é What I > I’m frightfull rry, it { You didn't do anytl Can't I have ne t thing f I like? What's this name rellf | He eal ell He me he ever fall f e Eng h estate or ( Wi i ye out in the garden ilter al M | n drew her arm free In ’ Dinne is enlivened by Mr. Tellford’s pi of | ition: and the - Russian tuat I emed that half the Russian | ( 1 ts money, and lec ’ i } , The a t i hot water, huh?” sid Uh, dear es! Mr. Tellford delved in tuffed t and sn ! “Every here he war's quite finished me very 1 far ‘ Take the Mavver you'd prot ‘ t Maure irre They’ve had to Ma ‘ H ‘ Ez ‘ It ‘ ttoal nder called Wood for thirty tho nd pound Of « e that'll help the ¢ ( i bit, but ! wed rhey've nothing left 1 but the entailed estate n Hu ga t r} earl ught to go to wor Crossley iggested “Too idle id Mr. Tellford, ‘‘and I clare iy he is big a gambler as the rest of t The May have a iys gambled, f co T) late earl didn't H wife vuldn’t let him Ve decent sort of woman I} Mavver isuall mart waste That's the way the family started.” **How?”’ Crossley threw in (>) thers i rie wretched ¢ ] t Elizabeth’ rt. I forget the sad det but the g 1 quee married her off to a Mavve ind made him an earl, The ill mart re then get rid of it at t Ihe late earl married a cler an's daugl ter who hadn't a per but he was an eption r} chay ! brother in inutterable a "M lellford ar ur ! pping luret Both the last ea vere killed—very decent lads, I believe but endl fa ind frightf

Conctuded from Page 44 Mis ** After all, that Englis! but marry money in the e T nec Mav ‘ old women and all utterly useless. girls all hunt One of them married The Honorable Gertrude Mav- She married some lad abe hus last ven fror cou THE SATURDAY EVENING POST. There’ ked yut, you know, and bands hopefully week , I think it was the a perf ct cousins and second cousins and arT ny of They sit n Australia, with no end of money, of P ’ rse Jane, dear,” better?”’ var It’s quite all s Robinson fi it women of t le ty have

days they right, ngered he said Mrs. Crossley, “ are not eating anything. Isn’t thanks. [| you’re not quite fair to them, are you her water glass. s only been very lately that of ] ouk you your head Sut 9” the Mavven been allowed to do anything if they could find things to do. i Of course It’s inexcusable that the men shouldn’t do something, over his cl T ’ I admit lered aret and sho ‘ellford cor to show themse her k h ‘Hereditary conceit and pride good-looking people and they brains lves we moment They *ve enough ll. I know re some of them by sight, but it’s unhealthy to know them better than that, they say at drain on their go back to Ru to the czar and his folk her and angle. ford off acré snow glistening under the moc in her company. I brother. You don’t have to sit up all night, our own concerns, brother, He talkee through the rest astonishing yarns, but Miss Robinson little herself after de her in the garden room Dinner had been tedious since he see her well from an xr boat carried Mr. Tell- the bright water at ten and Jim il er “I’m afraid Jane's feverish,” ther steadily and never laugh and hoped that it was hard to The mote frie ed. sh nds’ . y’re altogether too proud to pay their “What d’you think did hap ~ e res ources sia,’’ said Crossley en 9» in his best vein of dinner and told some said excused ert and Jim could not find saw the light in her bed- was not ill. sat beside

wished that the mountain had chosen } night to " : ore adm rable ley through a alone,” he blue yu look Ye yawn. Crossle y show itself fully, Di all its It would said Mrs. ordered. Better go to bed, lown in the mouth too.” “What about your going to bed, too, dad? ‘You mind } either.’ and pike off to bed! You have to get up at Six t and I don’t. into the veranda and hoping 1 ne wir lawn until they father’s feet to creak upstairs. f or hil

m sat in he lig! ts The low from tr To-morrow’s Wednesday he added coolly, and took his cigar <4 watching the mountain would be kind in the morn- living-room ; made a blur of glow on the damp were put out, and he waited But as no sound came he assumed that Crossley ad ler asna gan visit ome

shed his shoes belo we and red « in him—not qi , though there w ed of up to d m ite, to fade upon his W yn lite a the justified, not much to be for the sake of old man’s he The mountain be- peech for to-morrow thing clicked again t eyes and he lay mo f rning when lock of his door and he heard the handle turn. But nothing followed except a vague noise of garments rustling and after an instant a board of the landing creaked. Jim jumped out of bed and went swiftly into the hall where the stairs were visible. Whoever it was going down must cross the wide living room, and the safe let into the wall by the fireplace held his stepmother’s best pearls. He slipped on the cold treads, and the shadow moving ahead was lost in the black hallway. It might be a servant hunting something left downstairs. He did not wish to shout, and the living-room lights shot up as he came to the heavy tapestry shutting the room in. “IT thought you would,” said his father genially. ‘‘Sit down and let’s talk a bit, Jane. Drop your bag and sit down.”

ve nothing to say,’’ Miss Robinson panted. ‘Please let me go!” Jim drew back from the curtain. There was a long crack of light, but the figures did not “‘Go where? How in time are you going to get to Seattle this hour of night, child? Walk? It’s near twelve miles round the bay! Don’t bea chucklehead and don’t get hysterics, neither! I don’t want brother waked up. He’s losing sleep enough on your account. Sit down!” “Oh, why did you do that? I didn’t think you could be cruel! Is it my fault? I can’t help it, can I? It’s unfair!” Her voice swayed into sobs and came clear again. ‘‘And poor father was splendid, even if he wasn’t clever. He spent years trying to make money. Everyone can’t, you know. And Jack and Ronny were the best lads in the world.” “I’m sorry Tellford spoke of your broth- ers, Jane. I’m damned sorry for that, child. And I hear your dad was all right. But you needed a lesson. I’m not going to have any girl go and get sniffy about marrying brother just because she’s a Mavven. You ain’t played fair with brother, neither. If you’d come here and said you were the Honorable Jane Mavven—hell of aname! and turned him down I wouldn’t have any kick coming, but you said you were Jane tobinson. You ain’t honest! If you're ashamed to be Jane Mavven and work for a living you’d ought to quit being Jane Mavven and be Jane Robinson and stick to it—that’s all! Now you go back to bed and don’t get sniffy any more or I'll coach some other damned Englishman up on your family tree and you'll have it all over again! I'll be hanged if I see what you’ve got to be proud of except being a nice kind of girl—and brother’s mother was a Tres- cott from Boston, anyhow.” There was a sound of water spilling and glass smashed on therug. Crossley grunted. “There goes that vase he fetched back from Paris for Mrs. Crossley. Mind what you're ad **Doyou mean totell me,” “that you dare—dare think idiot enough to be proud of Mavven? Oh, how dare you?” In the pause Jim rallied. He should interfere. He put a hand on the curtain, then took it back. His father was fighting for him under a mistake, but his father must not know. Crossley chuckled. show. ?

shestammered, I’m—I'm of being a

November 29, 1/919 “Well, don’t at me like I was a tiger, Jane. If that’s not what’s the what is?” “Oh men are horrible!” she cried. “Sure, we’re fierce!’’ Crossley agreed. “But you ain’t telling me anything. If you didn’t turn brother down on account of my being a foundling, will you come out of the bushes and tell me what you did it fer?” **How on earth can I marry four million pounds?” she wailed. “You can’t,” said Crossley—‘‘at least not yet. Jim’s only got about five hundred thousand of his own and I mean to live a Don’t you be silly! I’m the only person entitled to kick, ain’t 1? I started looking you up the day we heard brother’d landed. If I wasn’t satisfied, then, you'd have been hunting another job, Jane. You think for a minute I'd have had you round where he could see you if I hadn’t thought it was all right? You go to bed. I never heard ng damfool in my life. Can’t marry brother because he’s got money! Get out! That’s right, sit down and let’s have some sense.’ “How did yi she demanded. “Damned gardener throwin’ torn-up letters all the garden. Honorable Jane Mavven, care of Gifford Robinson, f you don't look ”

week or so. r } anythi yu find out over Victoria, B. C. That’s ea want your folks to know what you're doing - ‘ , —— , If you kne my peop sne said “you'd quite under The only earthly reason the le come out to

Uncle Giff was that they thought some lad would marry me—for the name. He’s my mother’s brother and he’s just an ordinary gentleman, you know, and not : a walking totem pole like Un Oh, wouldn’t you be ashamed to marry Jim if all you'd had told you sir old enough to understand anything ws that you must—must make a good matcl Proud of my people? I loathe the whole gang! And the minute they knew I'd married well you’d hav sula and Bea-

Walking le Roderick.

trice and all Uncle Roderick’s sons coming out on the first liner! The wasters!” “I’m luckier than you, ain’t I?’’ Cross I guess havir Z Hadn't ither’s a poor t of hungry until ley meditated. ‘I’m safe a lot of folks is kind of danger you better write home that br bank clerk? I don't ar Mavvens all over the prices come down.” She giggled and there was an amused pause inside the curtains. ““You really are a dear old t!} didn’t Jim understand at dinner?

v W not

I’m not

at all sure he’ll ask me again.” “Oh, shut up!” said Crossley. “He'll ask you about the fifth hole to-morrow morning. He wouldn’t care if you were concentrated essence of Mavven. good to mind junk like that. You go to bed, sister. You won't be fit for anything in the morning, and brother hates poor golf. No, he didn’t catch And don’t you tell him about this, either. I couldn't stand having brother sore at me. You ain’t any "s too on. too good for him, neither.” “T know I’m not,” she sighed. Jim blushed and stole off upstairs to wind his alarm clo

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST 47 The New- Allen Touring Car Five Passenger (Series 43) $1395 f. o. b. Columbus, OF What they say— r NHE ALLEN is all we said it was,—and more \s pretty a car as T have ever seen India At first, we stated our case conservatively, pr Phe most perfect automobile Lhaveever drives Aa ferring to let the car itself tell its own story. Such pep and go LT ne ver saw belore many Cal A non l ” , : : With nearly a season's production of thes« new \llens ‘Has the appearance and riding quualitic of a much hicher now in action, we are getting the verdict of the conti priced car Louisville , » ST) S inl Ts | ' nent,—the spontaneous opinions of owners and dealers. * ee ae oe ee ° 1 Here Is What they say: * Imopre ed with the excelles LOpcaralce Ca operat ind we . power Vew York Cit It is a hundred percent car lkron, Ohio , , , : . ‘In twow ks’ arcl have found nothing ood ( ah Came over the mountains in fine shape, and on the hills passed In » weeks search | everything.’ — Baltimore. Phe performance of our « ve would expre with the word , , i s ‘ , worn ful iltsbu We are convinced ol the wonderful ability ol the Ven ‘ ler - ! ; Bu Falo Driver over a thou and milk ine not out of high ve ir] ill ie ‘ * aver () 1] to the lon R } Sun, I The Cal could not work better oes Is Causinpy quite a CTES« . iged p mile . F . . tion.’’— Camden, N. J. It sure is a comfort cat Paul, Mino “The car sold itself to us completely.””-— Cleveland Phe little things, overlooked on most cars, seem to have been Phe power and acceleration surpass anything I ever witnessed Sanen Save 4 l | | Des Moines So unanimous an endorsement may safely be relied “The car performs wonderfully.’’— Detroit. upon. Just off the press, a rich, five-colored booklet about Allen, fe printed by the novel “offset’’ process It AX, really tells the story of this unique car the TI | kK ALLEN MOTOR COM PA NY Nee f sectional view, for instance, has been referred fo by many as one of the most graphic illus COLUMBUS, OHIO, U. S. A. trations of actual car construction ever pub- lished. Any Allen dealer will give you a copy, or it will be sent to your address, on request, direct from the factor,

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i8 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST November 29,1919 ompare Shese Iwo Washways Youw il] agree that the elec tric W ashing machine method is better than the old-time washway. But do you know how much easier the Gainaday will make your work? The Gainaday Way The Old-time Way | ¢ H W \ ployment agency ( u t mpetent W ages j t - H i th rh { vu Rubs ¢ t 4 i tear fashion, Y t ; wit! p ‘ wr ver that wit to Oy 5 tak mor time, It's n back If you want a simpler, better washday, you can save time, hard work and money with the Gainaday. Interest- ing, instructive folder sent on request. PrrrspurGH Gace & Superty Company, A/anufacturer 12 Liberty Avenue, Pittsburs P ’ > ~ xe Washer Wringer

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——— What surprised me most, however, was the readiness with which the average Ger- man admitted defeat. There is a wide- spread impression that the German does not know he is licked. Having talked with hundreds of Germans it is almost incon- ceivable that any such eg ssion should have gone forth. I ran the German range from Erzberger and Noske, the two strong- est and most powerful individuals in the government, down to cabmen and labor- ers. At every stage of this interviewing performance I got the same reply, — summed up was: ‘We pe not only beater but badly beaten, and all we want is a chance once more to lift our heads.” One feature stands out: In some re- spects democracy—and Germany to-day is just about as democratic as France was between 1871 and 1878— is not altogether a name. You can, for example, discover an unoccupied chair and not find it marked ‘ Besetzt’’—engaged. You can also, and for the first time, undertake to walk across the grass in a park and not see a signboard bearing the word “‘ Verboten’’—forbidden barring your passage. If you knew Ger- many before the war this state of affairs indicates that a miracle has been wrought. Germany’s more or less half-baked de- mocracy asserts itself in various illuminat- ing and sometimes startling ways. Some months ago a conference was held at Co- blenz between an American Intelligence of- ficer and representatives of the German civil and military authorities to establish passport regulations for aliens who pro- posed to visit the unoccupied areas. The military representative was an officer in the old Prussian Guard, which represented the last word in German reaction. The conference finally resolved itself into the question as to whether Americans should provide photographs for the ersatz—sub stitute— passports, as they are known. The German civil official argued in favor of the photographs but the American objected and, of course, prevailed. After the meeting broke up the Germa officer took the American aside and said *‘T am glad you didn’t let that civilian im- pose all that red tape on you.” This, from a Prussian officer, shows that in at least one direction Germany has seen some light. Watch Your Baggage But the most astonishing human, or rather I should say unhuman, revelation in contemporary Germany is expressed per- haps in the general moral let-down. In the summary of German conditions elsewhere in this article I said that her morals were at lowest ebb. This manifests itself in count- less ways. Let me illustrate: If you are so foolish as to put your shoes outside the door of your room in a hotel in Germany —and it is just as true of the hotels in Berlin as it is of the smallest Gasthaus in Essen—you will be minus footwear in the morning. Likewise, if you should leave your bag unlocked in your bed chamber the chances are that you would discover your socks or underwear gone when you return. On the wall of every hotel room in Germany is posted the warning that the management will not be responsib le for shoes left in the hall or for articles stolen from unlocked bags, and wardrobes. Right here you can see evidence of the whole German moral break-up. Putting aside her war lust, superego, and all those other evils that tainted Germany before the war, > was in other respects more lr corruptil than many other Europear countries. Life and property had certair rights which were always resr-e¢ h closets a thing as the theft of boots in a hotel wa unheard-of. In addition to this the German official, with the invariable pride that he felt in his post, especially when he wore a uniform, was far from venal. To-day nearly every person in Germany who serves you in any way has his pric: You can bribe a hotel clerk to give you a room, fee a customs official to pass your luggage unopened, subsidize the cab by to give you the vehicle that was engaged by another. So it goes. Money as never before is the key to all things I discovered this to my cost at Frank- fort. I had a choice in making the trip to 3erlin. One was a day train that left at average seven-twenty-five in the morning and ar- capital at rived at the eight-thirty at THE SATURDAY EVENING POST GERMANY IN TRANSITION Continued from Page 7 night—a long, hot, tiresome trip. To tal a chance of getting a first-class seat re- quired my presence at the station at six o'clock. This was not inviting. The alter- native was the sleeping car—there is only one on the train—which left at nine and arrived in Berlin for breakfast. When I asked the hotel porter if he could get me a sleeping-car compartment he said that it was not only impossible but that all berths were booked for the next five weeks. I thereupon tried the porter at another large hotel, with the same result. At the sleeping-car offices nothing was to be had. I then began to bargain with the por t the hotel where I lived. I bid in units of ten marks. At every stage I only got a negative nod of the head, Travel Demoralized Finally, when I reached the hundred- mark stage, which I had decided was my limit—and which in American money on that day represented only about four dol- lars and fifty cents—I realized that I had scored, for the autocrat said: “I may be able to get you a second-class berth.”’ Needless to say, I spent that night in the sleeper. There were no towels on the train and I had to wipe my face in the morning on the pillow slip. When I remembered the good service and equipment on the German Schlafwagen—sleeping car — before the war I realized that here as elsewhere Germany has gone back a great many years. This episode of the hundred-mark fee for the privilege of buying a second-class berth is typical of what is happening throughout Germany. 1 Frankfort, for example, the hotel porters have a sort of unwritten agreement by which this natural scarcity of berths and compartments is intensified. here are so many profiteers bulging with wealth in Germany that there is no lack of victims. The whole railroad situation reflects the moral looseness of the country. A waiter at the Hotel Bristol in Berlin, who had served me in former years at the Carlton Hotel in London, told me this astonishing story: He was caught in England at the out- break of the war and interned. A few months after the signing of the armistice he was sent back to Germany with about fifty of his colleagues. All went well with him until he got beyond the German frontier. The baggage of th e whole party was checked and placed in the b RE age car attached to his train. After they had traveled about fifty miles into Germany the train was stopped by a company of soldiers, who cut off the baggage car. That was the last the waiter or anyone else saw of his luggage Such brigandage is no uncommon occur rence on the German trains. If you want your baggage carry it along with you where you can see it. This brings me to still another evidence of the collapse of German order and s) tem. Before the war the German railway service was a model of efficiency. A late train was such an unusual event that it wa written up in the f ¢ newspapers and formed the subject of conversation for a week. A German crowd, whether on the street or it line at a theater box office or a railway ticket window, kept its place with almost nilitary precision. jost liz 1g. Take a railway journey in day, even under the most favorable con tions, and you think that you are full bac} n a rough-house , tar There was never al Germany to game you want to get a sea ves at eight o'clock you on a train compelled to be in the stat 1on at ita hour and a half before the time of de parture, and even ther you take a long chance with the crowd that has preceded you by several hours. are reserved, The favorite device of rict Ge t a corner in a railway ar » is h a man to remain in the tation all night. He grabs a place the mo- nt the gates are opened. Clothes, hats, skins are all bruised in the frantic rush to travel, There are fusion. definite reasons for this con- So far as traffic is concerned, there is, of course, a shortage of trains. In the second place, internal travel was much restricted during the war and now that the German, of the world’ travelers, has the opportunity to about he is doing it with a vengeance, re- gardless of trouble and inconvenience But even this would not explain the absolute disorganization and almost utter disre rd of all decer in present-day who is one prize move Ge rman crowds. The fundamental cause thes Garma y has no tradition of | tary public service, All the old mucl vaunted order, which was nothing more than amiable docility, that you saw in Germany before the war was entirely due to the fact that it was literally pounded into t Once there, it was maintained by what was practically armed force, as expressed by imperialism, No matter what any German can say to the contrary, he de lighted to be bossed about and kept in his proper place. It was as much a part of his daily life as were his meat and drink. The whole German idea in this respect was expressed in those three magic words: “Es ist befohlen’ it is ordered. And the German's middle name was obedience. Only the common people have joined the general scramble, however. Your regular army officer or reactionary—and they are synonymous still sticks to the old habits, as this story willshow. At the Adlon Hotel in Berlin, as in many first-class American hotels, there is a separate office for each floor, where the guests leave their keys, One day when I stopped to get my key I found the attendant absent, so I walked behind the counter and took it off the hook. An erect military-looking German whom I saw there then emulated my example. I asked him in German how long he had been waiting and he replied: ‘‘I have been here fifteen minutes,” He did not round and get he saw me do it it gave incident explains the whole mind, Almost overnight the mailed steward ship of public morals and actions ceased With the overthrow of the Hohenzollerr nd the advent of arepublican form of 5 ernment the German suddenly found him elf without a master. He was like a trained animal, taught to perform to the lash of a whip, which sudder ly lost his rand was left to his own resources Quite naturally he fumbled. The lack of rt se ete now finds expression in what prac amounts to demoralization. The themselves must discipline them- , and it cannot Sc oneennaiied in one month or one year. Putting this demoralization in voiur he people. initiative to go but the moment an idea, This German reac have the his own | tically pe ople SELVES another vay—formerly the German bully wa machine-made and was turned out by the government in quantity output. If } t bullies remains a republic the self-made. In a sub- you will see German) henceforth will be juent article in this series an example of this development as per- nified by Gustav Noske, the ol Defer e soni Germar Minister Germany Changing Do not get the idea, however, that Ger lany in transition 1s a disorganized mass ol disillusioned and despondent people. They know that they must live, and in order to ve they must carry on with their da task The German workmar and you vill hear much more about him in the next articl which 1! deal with German in dustry does not expre the entire mood f the count: vnen ne i het ‘ ] K the more we have ft pa tiie \ it theref t it a ? i tne tu ft il rl et ant ’ : ‘ ind Germar t lee 1 in her heart that tl rh op 1 ty meat they Pin Aon tig ane he Hence ou nificar 1 it oO i Germa that the mali shopkeepe NNO ¢ ! ne } ‘ 1 Who Was ! f erned about t ! 1 ! t t yr ul brar na Tet pp hler a in Germany Outside these shops you ee these signs in E : “Have your shoe shined here’ and * “This is the best place in Coblenz to have your shoes shined.” ii stolid indifference. This expar ion it iall business is dupli cated in attitude of the people. rhe first unoccupied ently of I portance that I visited wa Frankfort which is just beyond the French lines of occupatior I creat omething of a ser ation as I swept up the main thoroughfare in an American army ir driven by a The whole populatior the speech and stalwart doughboy paused in its this almost unprecedented labors and travels to gaze at pectacle Ex pt for a few scowls I was regard Soon after the posited me at my hotel it started back to Coblen Up to this time I had been under the friendly protection of Allied troops up and down the Rhine. Now | was isolated in Frankfort and I t! at that moment I was the only American in the ( believe place. ‘‘Alonein Frankfort’ summed up my situation. I knew one man there. He was the brother of a well-known Wall Street broker I had wired him from Coblenz to obtain a room for me. He did so and it was a real act of mercy because in Frankfort, as in every other German city that I visited, hotels are literally jammed to the roof and the struggle to find a bed is almost as acute as the contest to get a seat on the trains I often wondered as I watched the long lines waiting for accommodations in Ger man hotels where the mob came from The moment I met this Frankfort manu facturer I got a glimpse into the state o mind toward America. It is impossible to get this in the occupied section because the Allied troops are the censors of both speech and action and the tactful thing among the Germans there i ” friendly and English if they know how I marveled therefore just how spear ree Germa English Often Spoken I said to th Frankfort citizen in Ger nan: ** Whiel lang laye shi : He at once replied in English speak English by all mear This i country now and we can do as we please The result was that with him and wit} many of his friends I spoke English, not only in the privacy of their offices but in the public restaurants, where everybody stared at us. Being stared a Germany no new sensatior The people there “rubber more than in an ther counts with the possible exception ol Holland Wherever I went throughout Germany I found that the individual who knew how English sought every opportun 0 Speak to use it, When I entered a nop to buy something I invariably poke German. Again and again the response came in Eng lish. Curiously enough the German to-day pride In Knowing how to He refuses, takes a certain speak the Anglo-Saxon tongue however, to employ French except when it is absolutely necessary Phe one deep and abiding hatred in Germar to-day for the French How y professed friends} ip for America 1 cannot ay, but I do know that | wa t much sinceri ourtesy throughout my sta rt i particularly irprising he 1 discovered in Berlin that a complete record of my ir activiti with particular reference to 1 exposures of German ¢ ! ropaganda n neutra our t i ’ t the For eign Otfice and e government had done me ep ia ) ’ if ¥ 1 y vie ia is ere UO! rr g the tele ‘ ing room Be ! I Ca (serma ‘ i | t M M if } I re N M \I , New ¥ \ e the ‘ inged | Lu giad to ear an Ame ‘ ! me ence al i nt hat I ad ow one Gern Lo-da Every p eff eing {ie ) ( ite A ericar ‘ eu (af il . i | i yr it p hin I ted ate ] © flatte e At tor ne te m that the Ame in doug! mn the df e he tells the 4 l man that Haig fore turned the tide and whet ne Loe hae t to have a conversation with a Frenchman he tries to put over the fact that Foch, : ible the made pos

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of the ta hat Germany yed in her former well-organized cam- iign of world ief-making peaking of the German’ | me of mise! employment f English remind omething that obler When I went to the office to get my permit to appened in ( ‘ I spoke German throughout the e transaction. The man in charge had m t dier and I felt that he would be e at ease if I spoke his own language. He used a word, however, that I did not inderstand, whereupon a demure young oman who sat near by suddenly spoke up English and defined it ‘I see you speak English,” I said. “Oh, yes,” she replied; i of Wellesley College and I want to get back America as soon as I can.” Wander round Germany and you have this sort of experience wherever you go. Moreover, practically every waiter who erved me—and nearly all had worked in England or America— wanted to go back is soon as possible. ‘‘ How soon will they et us in?"’ was asked me a hundred times. I had some astonishing revelations of the ew German attitude, especially toward America. At Frankfort I dined one night vith a group of eight business men. They epresented a half dozen large interests and as many important communities, One member of the party, who happens to be the head of a pe werful iron and steel made thisremark: ‘‘ Economic con Germany could not be so bad that, and my associates, l willing to see Germany provided that we were tie French re- group, ditions in they are worse, peaking for hould be per Indeed myself fectly American guaranteed protes venge and rapacity Of course it wa become an colony, 1 against for my particular benefit and to create a good will for Germany. But it did have the germ of a half truth in it, certainly as illustrating the Crerman feeling France The e two nations will do busine together be they must, but so long as time lasts will be bitter hatred between them, And France has good reason to hate Another phase of the German conciliation Americans lies in the widespread and absurd explanation as to why we went to war. As usual, the German is trying to do the other fellow’s thinking for him. The German believes, astounding as it may that we were grossly deceived about actual conditions by the French and the British a flattering commentary on our intelligence ‘But why did you provoke asked scores conversation about cause there with seem, not America into going to war?" I of Germans of all degrees, Invariably the reply was: ‘‘We did not expect America to enter the struggle. The unrestricted submarine campaign was a desperate effort to end the war At this point you smile and realize that vyhen it comes to discussing the war with a German you are up against an absolutely hopeless proposition, The Kaiser Not Quite Friendless If you can persuade a German to do the well-nigh impossible and be frank, he will tell you that America gave Germany the urprise of the war, The government ma chine got over the impression that weshould he a negligible quantity in the field and that we could not send over a big force and keep it supplied. Chateau-Thierry, St.-Mihiel and the Argonne smashed this illusion, When it crumpled the German hope of any kind of battle victory was gone, I heard only one German express the lightest repentance over his nation’s mis deeds in the war. When I asked for justifi- ation of the Lusitania, of the Sussex, of any one of a hundred horrors, the reply would be: “‘At that time Germany was uffering from mental illness.” This is as good a place as any to write about the status of reaction, for it is part of what might be called unrepentant Ger many. There is still a considerable group of officers and statesmen of that departed day who cling to the delusion that day they will come back, They are moving about on gum shoes, however. } some They hire private rooms in the restaurants, put on all their medals and toast the old régime. But that is about as far as they get. Every once in a while you get some pic- turesque evidence that discredited as he is the Kaiser still has friends. While I was in Germany the school children in a small town went on a strike because his bust was removed from the chapel THE SATURDAY Though the present government dis- claims even the slightest royalist tendencies Count von Bernstorff still has a strong pull at court. His secretary is one of the links between the Foreign Office and the news- paper men at Berlin. Until the present cabinet came into office he was quite a power behind the president’s chair. Writing about the reactionaries reminds me of one of the favorite indoor sports in Germany to-day. It consists of what we in America would call passing the buck. Everybody of importance who had any connection with the Kaiser or the conduct of the war is trying to put the responsibility on some other person’s shoulders. Luden- dorff is putting it up to Mackensen, and Mackensen in turn is laying it at the door of Hindenburg. In the same way Von Jethmann-Hollweg is laying all the blame on Michaelis or some other victim. It has gone so far that Germans with a sense of humor, if such a state is possible, are asking, “Who will be the next goat?” The Attitude Toward Mr. Wilson One of the industrial princes of Germany showed me a letter that he had just received from the Crown Prince. If that exiled ex- potentate really wrote it he must be given credit for more sense than the world has credited him with, In it he said, among other things: ‘‘I told my father after the First Battle of the Marne that the German cause was hopeless, but he would not be- lieve it.””. Elsewhere in the letter he wrote: ‘It appeals to my sense of humor to see all our late associates trying to put the blame on someone else,’ Be all this as it may the Kaiser business is doomed. Germany may have a military dictatorship or a constitutional monarchy, but so far as a Kaiser is concerned there not seem to be the slightest chance for a resurrection of an All Highest. 1 found ome sentiment in favor of a regency, if one is ever established, by the Crown Princess Cecilie. One reason is that she is attractive to look at; another is that, having been the wife of the Crown Prince all these years, she is entitled to some compensation for having served such a martyrdom, Now comes one of the many curious in- consistencies that you encounter in Ger- many. Though the word ‘* Welcome” is on the doormat and the glad hand is extended to the American generally, President Wil- son is to-day the most abused and reviled individual in Germany. This procedure, which involves the abrupt chez inge in na- tional sentiment toward America’s chief executive, is an illuminating example of the way the German mind works, When the Armistice was signed Mr. Wil- son was looked upon as little less than a redeemer, for he was hailed as the maker of a new world. The celebrated Fourteen Points hung with German hope. They con- tituted the creed of regeneration— asecond Teutonic Bible. Mr. Wilson's speeches, published in book form under the title of Wilson Reden, sold by the hundreds of thousands of copies, No German household was complete with- out Nearly every business man had the volume on his desk. He did everything but use it as collateral at the bank. When the Peace Terms crashed into the German consciousness the little red-white- and-blue book that contained the Presi- dent's utterances suddenly found itself in the was stebasket or on the garbage heap, The President’s name became a hissing and abyword. Mistead of being hung with hope he Fourteen Points suddenly bristled with hate. To mention them in polite society constituted a breach of etiquette almost as bad as professing love for a Frenchman. Germany stood appalled and horrified at what she considered a breach of trust. How she got the idéa that the President had obligated himself to a peace without fangs Iam unable to say. One reason perhaps is that the German, once he sets his mind on having a thing done or convinces himself that a thing should be done, immediately assumes that the performance is either already achieved or in the natural course of events. In this way he deluded himself during the war in thinking the crimes of the German Army and Navy were part of organ- ized and accepted warfare. The very fact that he believed a thing was right made it right in his eyes. He has not changed his mental processes, But after all is said and done our chief concern in this article is with human in- terest, so we will move on to Berlin, once the fountainhead of empire. To-day it is does one, eee EVENING POST merely a city trying to forget the war with every device that money can supply. Here you get the best and the worst of Germany, almost in a single street. Orgy and penury dwell almost side by side. The whole panorama of the nation in evolution is re- flected in its life. As my train slowly passed through Pots- dam in the early morning and 1 got a glimpse of the church where the former Kaiser used to commune with the Deity, whom he claimed as intimate colleague, I thought about my last visit to the capital. It was late in the autumn of 1913 and Ger- many was at the high tide of her prestige and power. The world was yet to know the madness that lurked behind the Teutonic prosperity. I remembered that one after- noon I journeyed out to the immense Temperhof Field and saw what was per- haps the last great military maneuver be- fore the troops that there marched so proudly plunged the world into horror with their advent into Belgium. On a knoll William Hohenzollern sat astride a milk- white charger, surrounded by his staff. He was then a king who could do no wrong. Now I returned to that same city after four years of war had ravaged Europe. The name of a German had become synonymous with excess. The once exalted ruler who smilingly reviewed his army was a broken fugitive, shorn of authority, with all civil- ization clamoring for vengeance upon him. Time indeed had not stood still. Outwardly Berlin seemed the same com- munity, with its neat clean streets and the linden trees that were once the Kaiser's pride. Gayly dressed women still drove in the Thiergarten; the florists’ windows were filled with gorgeous flowers; the jewelry shops glittered with dazzling displays of precious stones; the restaurants were crowded. There was opera every evening; dozens of cabarets contributed to a hectic night life; the town had even turned to boxing matches as its newest fad. Life apparently moved on apace, just as if these people had not recently emerged from ordeal and suffering. It was only when you saw the mained wreck of a soldier ina doorway begging for alms that you got a hint of the human havoe wrought by the colossal struggle launched in this very environment. When I went for my first walk, however, and saw the populace at close range I realized that much of the animation and show was a thin veneer. Scrape the sur- face, and anxiety, even desperation, are revealed. The Berliner is no longer the cocky self-asserting German of five years ago. There is something furtive in his look; even his stomach band has shrunk. For- merly the corpulent German was the rule; now he is the exception, No More Swanking Officers One evil is conspicuously absent — you no longer see the swanking monocled officer. In the old days life was one salute after an- other—a continuous click of heels. When a Prussian officer entered a restaurant he was not only the cynosure of all eyes but got the best table and the quickest service. His glory is dimmed, for he has practically vanished from the map. The officers visible look and conduct themselves like human beings. Though Berlin is still under martial law you see few soldiers as compared with the immense number you saw before the war. Formerly there was an elaborate guard mount twice a day at the Brandenburg Gate. The only signs of it that remain are the unused gun racks. No external change in Berlin, however, is more significant than is expressed in the bullet-ridden pile of brick and stone which housed Herr Hohenzollern. Once it was ointed cut by the natives with a pride that Ceomed on piety; to-day you hear it designated by civilian and soldier alike as “the house where William lived.” By an odd piece of mockery the balcony on which the former emperor was wont to stand and receive the cheers and plaudits of his sub- jects is now ashattered wreck. Whether by accident or design it was the particular target of the machine guns during the spring revolution, Upon inquiry I discovered that prac- tically all the Kaiser’s belongings—medals, uniforms, college degrees, unpublished mas- terpieces and all other—had been removed from the structure and that it is likely to be converted into a museum. The first relic will probably be the battered remains of a misguided and self-hypnotized autocracy. November 29, 19/9 No less striking in some respects is the evolution of the famous Brandenburg Gate, round which much pageantry centered. To-day you can see those once sacred walls plaster ed with posters announcing meet- ings of the Independent Socialists. Until the abdication of the Kaiser the central arch was scrupulously reserved for royal equipage. A policeman always stood there to keep off the vulgar vehicle. That arch is now wide open and the ice wagon and the milk cart rattle through with the same ease as did the kingly chariot in the days gone by. In connection with the Gate is one impressive piece of irony. mediately Brandenburg Im- adjoining it is the open plaza known as the Pariser Platz. It is one of the most commanding sites in Berlin. Here the Kaiser received addresses of welcome and also greeted his guests with pomp and splendor. A reformed government official told me that so convinced were the Ger- mans of an easy triumph in October, 1914, that the palace authorities had reserved all the windows in the Platzso that the Kaiser’s guests could there review the return of the victorious armies! ways a city of statues, two Berlin memorials stand out with peculiar interest these overturning days. One is the heroic bronze figure of Bismarck that has long stood in front of the Reichstag Building. As I looked at it again in the light of what has happened these past five years I won- dered what the Iron Chancellor would have said to the wrack and ruin of the empire he reared, and more especially to the deluded imperial coxcomb who brought it down. Bismarck had no love for William and my guess is that he would have compressed his whole opinion in four eloquent words: ‘I told you so.””, He never would have plunged his people into a war against the world. Instead he would have picked off his enemies one by one. Headquarters of Conspiracy Within stone’s throw of the Bismarck statue rises the huge wooden figure of Hindenburg, reared by a grateful populace then in the throes of a temporary rejoicing. As most people know, it had a useful pur- pose in that it was used as a rallying point to raise war funds. The citizenry bought nails and then paid for the privilege of driv- ing them into the old warrior’s body. The Allied armies did a better job and drove them figuratively into his coffin. The Hindenburg statue has becomerather a sad spectacle because the pressing needs of Germany have provided a more practical use for the nails, which have all been re- moved. Hence the immense figure looks as if it were moth-eaten. No Berlin experience of mine was more dramatic than my visit to the Foreign Office in the Wilhemstrasse. In this grim gray building the whole devious web of German world-wide social, economic and political penetration was spun. The great banks that stand almost within its shadow were the box offices of Teutonic sabotage and corruption. All through the war I had seen the evidence ‘of its cunning in Spain, Switzerland, Holland, Sweden; indeed wherever the German could get his foot inside the door. Within these walls were hatched the conspiracies that Bernstorff and Dernberg executed. It was the stamp- ing ground of German diplomacy, and th 1 meant that its rooms were soundproof and its mysteries deep. You had to give a double password to get in and half a dozen to get out. A rather strange illustration of the way Germany is forgetting her war animosities toward the Anglo-Saxon was the presenta- tion early in. October of George Bernard Shaw’s play Arms and the Man in English at a little theater in Unter den Linden. It was given by members of the English literature class in the University of Berlin. In the audience were a number of the actors and actresses in the professional company now playing the piece in German at a well-known local theater. To turn to practical matters, Berlin, and in fact every other city in Germany, has a serious housing problem. During the war it was anteseee Fo to erect any structures because men and material were mobilized for the conduct of the conflict. Meanwhile the living needs of the people have ex- panded. The result of the scarcity of family as well as industrial buildings is little short of acute. The value of improved realty has soared skyward, In Cologne, Frankfort, (Continued on Page 53)

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52 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST November 29,1919 Christmas Eve! Stockings filled... . tree all decorated — children fast asleep (?) ... At last—a little peace and quiet Two fond parents wrapt in happy revery. The one thinks of the morrow; the other too unutterably COMFORTABLE in his GIFT FROM HER to think of anything. Leta Royal Easy Chair thus add pleasure to YOUR Xmas Eve. Know Royal Comfort yourself. | SROM an upright position you can, in a twinkling, desired angle — without moving from chair. Re/easing be stretched out, fu//y relaxed, with every part of the button 4cks the back in any desired position. your tired body comfortably supported in one of these | | wondertul chairs. And to make the transformation, A leg rest, concealed when not in use, is another Royal | all vou do is ‘Push the Button!” refinement. It supports the limbs, enables you to | . s-t-r-e-t-c-h f-u-l-] l-e-n-g-t-h and rest, rest, REST! Lhis tamous Royal ** Push Button,’’ concealed in the ; ' right chair arm, is a simple, troubleproof, exclusive, Royals are highly artistic, correctly designed, luxuri- | patented Royal feature. A finger pressure on this ously upholstered, and splendidly constructed and fin- button enables you to lower or raise the back to any ished. ‘hey will grace amy interior. Made in attractive Modern and Period Styles. Handsome tapestries, velours, genuine or imitation leathers. COdak or Mahogany finish. Fully guaranteed. Every genuine Royal has the name stamped on the Push Button The two SPECIAL Royal Easy Chairs shown herewith are splendid values They are now being offered by fur- niture dealers everywhere at spec ially attractive prices. If you haven’t a Royal see your dealer today. Mean- while, write for illustrated free book, ““Conscious Rest.”’ ROYAL EASY CHAIR COMPANY Showing Lea Rest Peanentnd Sturgis, Michigan a Showing Leg Rest Concealed

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(Continued from Page 50) Leipsic, Hamburg, Munich and Dresden the assessed valuation is four hundred per cent higher than it was in 1914. A man in Berlin told me that he was offered a government subsidy of one million marks if he would erect an apartment house the total cost of which was only three mil- lion marks. In other words, he was offered a bonus of one-third. He refused because of the difficulty in obtaining raw materials and the inability to get labor. So desperate is the need of living accom- modations that Frankfort has established a law of commandeer. No residence in the city is now permitted to have a spare room, A survey was being made while I was in Frankfort to find out how much living space is available. If a householder has an apartment of six rooms and there are only four members in the family he must sur- render one to the authorities, who assign him a lodger Berlin is a study in contrasts. On one hand you have what might be called the despair of wealth. Fearful of loss on ac- count of revolution or excessive taxation the rich seek to purchase forgetfulness in wine, woman and song. The Rome that burned while Nero fiddled had nothing on Berlin fox-trotting and gaming while un- rest stalks about. On the other hand you have the acute desperation of poverty, ex- pressed in large families pinched by want, oppressed by the high cost of living and wrecked by the loss of the bread-winner. I repeatedly walked through the poor dis- tricts of Berlin and saw an almost endless procession of pallid women and wan im- poverished children. During the war the Germans conducted a considerable propaganda about the lack of milk for their babies. For once their claims held some truth. There are thou- sands of children in and about Berlin two years of age who have never even tasted milk. One woman told me that all her children born since the war had been raised on spinach soup. At the time of my visit to Germany the milk supply of the country was about one-fourth of the normal. The inevitable by-product of these last years of insufficient nourishment is the lowest birthrate that Germany has ever known. Before the war eight hundred thousand pairs of tiny hands were added to the population every year. This is one reason why the war-mad government felt that it could afford to hurl a world at peace into confusion. There was no worry about human renewal. German Profiteers That criminal government, however, did not reckon with overwhelming defeat such as has been imposed upon the nation. In the dwindling birth rate therefore you see one insurance against a recurrence of the lust and insanity that drove the old Ger- many to suicide. You have only to observe the wasted jumpy humanity to realize that a considerable part of the next generation will be anything but cocky. It will be glad to be able to lift its head and earn a liveli- hood. Defeat and disintegration have left their indelible marks. The sins of the mili- tary masters and those who served them have indeed been visited upon the people. Unless I am much mistaken they have had all the war they want for many decades to come. The striking extremes of life in Berlin that I have just pointed out are equally true of every city of importance in Ger- many. Everywhere the rich have become richer and the poor poorer. One definite reason for this is that in Germany as perhaps in no other country that went to war has the evil of the profi- teer flourished so mightily. This, universal curse, which knows no section and whose maxim is greed, is one aggravating source of the widespread Teutonic—indeed the whole European—discontent. It has made the campaign of the revolutionaries much easier than it would otherwise have been. Preach special privilege and you get the ear of the masses. The German word for profiteer is Shieber. Thousands developed during the war. They made immense fortunes in munitions and also in surreptitiously buying up needful articles like cotton and copper in Switzer- land and Holland. They were usually in league with the frontier customs officials. One branch of this gentry conducted a con- siderable business in counterfeit ration cards. Some even went so far as to set up printing presses and turn out Russian and THE SATURDAY Rumanian bank notes. They hoarded gold and they broke every law in the calendar of self-respect, decency and ordinary pa- triotism. They waxed fat while Germany hungered. You can spot the Shiebers because they are about the only persons in Germany who have rubber tires on their automobiles, Rubber is worth its weight in gold. The average taxicab has a tire made of steel springs. When you hear a flock of cars thus equipped on a cobbled street it sounds as if a boiler factory was in operation all round you. Incidentally I might add that it costs not less than one hundred and fifty thou- sand marks a year to run a car. How do the Shiebers get their rubber tires? One unfailing source of illicit sup- ply —whether for sugar, tires, 7 gays silk stockings, silks, French brand cigars, cigarettes or fine perfumes lie ss in the elaborate system of smuggling which is one of the erying scandals of Germany. French and Belgian luxuries instead of actual necessities are pouring into the country. The Reds Bid for Ludendorf The German profiteer balks at no price. He pays five thousand marks for a bottle of brandy, and he would willingly give up fifty thousand for a French frock for his wife or lady love if it were available. He argues that sooner or later confiscation or revolution will get his pile. Most of them have smuggled nest eggs in actual marks out of Germany into Switzerland, Holland or Sweden, so they say, “‘Why worry?” This is one reason why the mark is down. The carnival of corrupt extravagance is readily capitalized by the Bolshevist group in Germany in the same way that it is being capitalized by the radicals in England, France and Italy. Every time a Shieber js caught with the goods it only adds fuel to the flame of unrest that is sweeping the country. While the profiteers guzzle they simply hasten the red holiday, Com- munism may be the result. The revolutionaries are on the job day and night, despite their overthrow last spring. A member of Ludendorf’s staff tol i me that his late chief had been offered five million marks to join the reds. Prumien officers out of a job and who must earn a livelihood are being daily recruited for the Spartacus forces. While I was in Berlin the brother of one of Germany's air aces went over to the reds at a salary of fifty thousand marks a month. ‘Where do the Bolshevists in Germany get their money?’’ you may ask. They get it in precisely ‘the same way that Lenine Trotzky & Co. get theirs. They make it, and there is no limit to the output of a well- oiled printing press. Once the reds let loose in Germany there will be no half-hearted business. It is a well-known fact that German Communist murder centers have been organized in Hamburg, Munich, Berlin, Erfurt, Eisenach and Halle. Assassination has become a fine art. It isan interesting commentary on the results of the war that the German radical, who was formerly rather an amiable person, has developed into an extremist who hesi- tates at nothing. He has his full mate in madness not only throughout Europe but right here in America Throughout Germany I found conserva- tive men getting ready for what they con- sidered an inevitable revolution this win ter. I noticed, for example, that one man’s house was peculiarly bare of furnishings. When I inquired the reason he replied: ‘T believe that we are going to have serious uprisings and that some of the cities are likely to be sacked. When the despoilers come they will at least have something to destroy or carry away. I have deposited all my valuables in a safe place in the country.” We now come to the one feature of Germany in transition of largest general interest. Everybody eats, therefore every- body is interested in the cost of living, whether it is in the land of our late antag- onists in the field or elsewhere. Food is the universal leveler of all rank. Immediately after the signing of the Armistice the food scarcity in Germany was acute. Thanks to America the shortage was relieved. When I arrived last September there was apparently an abundance. In Germany as elsewhere you can get what you want to eat if you are willing to pay for it. I discovered this in both the bellig- erent and neutral countries during the great war. Unfortunately not everyone is able to buy this way. As a consequence there is EVENING POST considerable suffering among the great mass of the German people on account of the excessive rise in the price of commodities. The increase ranges from one hundred to four hundred per cent. I must confess that when I looked at the menu cards in unoccupied Germany which is the only place where you can make an adequate measure of actual conditions I was amazed at the variety and the price. At Frankfort I had an excellent luncheon of meat, vegetables, salad and dessert, with a bottle of mineral water, for forty-five marks. At the rate of exchange that da it represented only about one dollar and fifty cents in American money. When you compare this with our present prices it is almost worth while to take a trip to Ger- many and save money. At Frankfort I touched a real Germar traged) It concerns that well-known and time-honored Teutonic institution, the sausage. The lowly frankfurter got its name from Frankfort, yet when I sought to order some in a restaurant there the German who accompanied me said: “I advise you not toeat any sausages, Most of them are made of horse meat and they are unsanitary ge ‘*Where are all the dogs?” I as ked, Whereupon my companion re plied, ** The edible ones have gone long ago.”’ Hence it was a case of no frankfurters in Frankfort! It reminded me of war day: when I could get no Swiss cheese in Switze1 land and no Edam in Holland. The decline and fall of the sausage is worth more than a passing mention. For hundreds of years the sausage has figured in German song and story. In Konigsberg, for example, at the New Year the butchers presented the bakers with a giant sausage sack in the year 1558 this annual if unro- maritic gift was one hundred and fifty feet long and was carried by forty-eight per- sons. It has almost become a curiosity One of the contemporary German joke about the 1919 sausage runs like this \ man bought a sausage in a Berlin meat shop. The butcher had no paper, so the customer used a subway ticket as a wrapper. When he got home he found he had ‘« the

sausage It had slipped through the hole punched in the ticket by the train cor ductor! This is a sample of the Germat brand of humor, as applied to the wiener wurst Yet it shows tional staple has ceased to be a bulwark of Fritz’s stomach. The sausage of the food tragedy. inspiration of German contentment a scarce as is morality among the Bolshe t The beverage that made Munich famou has practically gone out of the market on account of the of malt and hoy I drank beer only once in German ind that was in a restaurant in Berlin. It wa bitter stuff and absolutely unlike the beer that one got before the war. that a one-time na represents only one phase Good bee r, once the scarcity Hotel Living Costs other Europeat food regulatior In Germany as in any country during the war melt under the magic of money. To 1 trate: I took three Americans to a fashior able restaurant in Unter den Linden, where I was told that I could get the best food ir the city. The menu was elaborate but cor tained no beef. When I called the waiter’ to this fact he leaned over and whispered, ‘Would y beef?"’ I said that such was my desire, and he remarked, “It will be all right, but it must be served to you as chicken.” That dinner, which included} d'wuvres, some filet of sole, steaks minute, pastry for two, Mocha coffee and bottles of German champagne, cost exact three hundred and forty marks. At the rate of exchange that day, in American money it represented simply, plus a ten per cent tip, about thirteen dollar Minus the champagne it would have been onl; two hundred and sixty marks. When you consider that this was for four people it astonishingly cheap. At this point you must remember, however, that I had a great advantage over the German in buy ing because I had exchanged American money for marks at the lowest rate of ex- change in German history. The vagaries of the mark, I might add, which will be dealt with in more detail in the next article, constitute one of the real adventures in Germany to-day. When I was across the Rhine it had ebbed to a valuation of a little more than three cents. Before the war it was worth over twenty- three cents. Convert a hundred-dollar bill attention t oO have mnie ou lke two

53 into German marks and you feel almost like a millionaire Bills for food and lodging whose totals startled the Germans, who can think of the mark only at its prewar value, were as jokes to those who use American and British money. My bill for lodging, breakfast and many incidentals, ineluding laundry fot nine days, at the Adlon was approximately five hundred marks. Before the war that would have amounted to one hundred and twenty-five dollar At the rate of ex change when I paid it it was considerabl less than twenty dollars. The collapse of the mark is eloquent evidence of Germany’ decline. When you eat table-d’hote Berlin, Frankfort, Leipsic, Hamburg or Cologne the overhead cost is not excessive, even from the German point of view You for example, a satisfactory lunch eon consisting of soup, fish, meat and dé sert for eighteen marks at either the Adlon Hotel or the Hotel Bristol, the two best known hostelries in Berlin and at. the Atlantic Hotel in Hamburg. The two rarest things in the German bill of fare to-day are butter and milk. I went for six days without butter for breakfast Adion. On the seventh morning my waiter showed up all atremble witt ment When I asked him the he replied, ‘‘We have butter this morning.” The great scarcity in milk and butter is due to the shortage of livestock, There was a wholesale slaughter during the war to feed the —— and under the terms of the Peace Treaty Germany has been compelled to hand over one hundred and forty thou sand milch cows to the conquerors. The whole milk supply, as I] have already inti mated, is reduced three-quarter What cows remain are improperly nour meals in can get, at the floor excit CAUSE about

hed, on account of the absence of oil cakes . Atrocities of Peace ne of the real atrocitie of peace in Germany lurks in the coffeepot Ask for plain coffee in a German restaurant and you are served with a brown mixture that tastes like a cross between gasoline and bilge water. In order to get something that has the faintest semblance to coffee y must demand Mocha, and even ther you get a denatured and highly sterilized pr miuct, , Do not get the idea from thi wit glimpse into the menus of expensive hote that my experience 1 the experience of the great ma of the Gert people Ihe not ind restaurant ! t have f t ‘ yee feverything t,o int th Crermat housenoids and there you tind a stinted diet and a tlat pocketbook, because the price of food nthe shor hitthe short of appalling 4 pound of ham cost nine and a half ma vhen it is obtainable; a pound of bacol el 1 pound of collee, four ter marr e cocoa sells for seventeer marks @ po i Fuel g food one better, « 1 should i one worse, The pr f coal has uw ered ed ! a} ‘ lo i Lie { ‘ tyl id At Kiel manufacturers are paying seven hur ‘ i mar tton for coal that early in 1914 brought twenty mark a tor This is one reason why industr paralyzed, wh homes are cold, and wh with this lack of one of the essentials of life, the CGe«ermar winter will be one of hardship and possib ‘ | one i! oal output on the da I left was le than fort per cent of tie norma I} te the hole tor No less prohibitive are the prices of other nece ‘ A pair of shoes costs from one hundred and seventy-five to two hundred and tifty mark An ordinary ready-mad 1914 now bring Though German wages have not risen In proportion shirt that cost ten marr t eighty mart gone up they have to prices, and a mark to the German still represents the prewar value Nor must we modity like soap, which during the war was literally as rare as a jewel and almost as costly. It is still searce and expensive. In 1917 and 1918 so keen was the demand for soap that men risked their lives and reputa to smuggle a few cakes frontier More than one Allied prisoner of war escaped by bribing his jailers with oap. Very litthe was manufactured in Germany until recently, of the shortage of fats I cannot leave this whole problem of food without dealing with a picturesque condi- tion not without its lesson for America. When you receive your bill in a restaurant in Berlin, Bremen, Hamburg or Munich you overlook a humble com tion across the on account

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54 will find that ten per cent has been added to the price of what you have consumed or bought his is the so-called Trinkgeld, which is the German word for tip. Since the war the German cooks, waiters and other restaurant servants have formed such an effective organization that they have dictated this compulsory fee. Not ‘only is ten per cent added to your bill in the restaurant but twenty-five per cent is also idded to your room account at the hotel, which is supposed to cover the gratuities for valet and chambermaid. his automatic tipping would be an idmirable thing if it ended there, but unfor- tunately the patron who merely pays his bill, automatic fee included, and leaves the restaurant need not expect gilt-edged serv- ice when he returns. According to the rules of the union no waiter or hotel employee has the right to accept a casual or extra fee, but German servants, like all others, are human, and they expect a small gift in ad dition to the prescribed amount on the bill This extra fee, which is added to the bill, is paid to the employees in the shape of an increased wage, and does not go, as the average man would think, into a common pool shared by the help The German servant and by servant I mean all employees of hotels and restau- rants is now the autocrat instead of the meek subservient cog in the work machine that he was before the war. If a waiter, for example, makes himself distasteful or be- comes unpopular among his associates they have the right under the new union agree- ment to demand his dismissal by the employer. No matter how faithful or effi- cient or popular he may be with the patrons, once the union bans him he must go. In discussing this situation with me the manager of one of the largest hotels in Ber lin said: “ The conduct of our establishment, so far ds any control of the employees is concerned, has been taken entirely out of our hands. From scullery maid up to our head waiters we must pay the wages prescribed by the union scale and abide by every decision made by our help. A few weeks ago the waiters’ committee informed me that one of my oldest waiters must go. When [ remonstrated [ was told that the whole staff would strike unless Lsubmitted.” The Horrors of Tobacco Famine kind Here you ge L Militipese of one of democratization which i spreading throughout Germanys As never before the worker has a voice in the conduct of all activity that works for a wage In the for example, there is a of employees, hotel organizations general advisory committees which consists of a waiter, a porter, a cham bermaid and the cook. This body really rules the establishment In other words, the autocrat has left the breakfast table and sits enthroned in the kitchen Closely allied to commodity costs is an other really unique situation. I refer to the searcity of cigars and cigarette Germany is suffering from a genuine smoke famine So keen is the hunger for cigarettes that you can bribe a baron with a package of American army cigarettes, It is no longer necessary to use money to buy your way into the presence of the elect. Hand the watchdog at the door a cigarette and he is your slave for life. The brother of a former “So [ asked every agent one question ‘Have you a list of your trucks that have run more than 100,000 miles?’" “What did they say?’ The purchasing agent laughed * A few of them tried to talk me out of at answer. The big majority of them just walked out and never back Of the forty or more who had been trying to sell me eight came through with an answer Four answered that they had no such list came The other four had a roster of trucks that met tne test-the Grand people gave me the names and addresses of more than minety American firms or individuals owr ing trucks that had run more than 100,000 miles. Some had gone as high as 300,000." ‘Um-m-m! Where did the Mileage get off in this test of yours?” ‘To tell you the truth, the Mileage agent was one of those that dropped out without another word.” ‘Isn't that because they've making trucks a few years?" only been THE SATURDAY member of the German cabinet and himself a financier of high rank asked me if I could sell him two packages of cigarettes. When I made him a present of a packet he said, almost with tears in his eyes: ‘Command me for any service.” A package of cheap British cigarettes, known in the army in France as the ‘“Tommy’s delight” and which sells in England for ten cents, brings four marks in Germany. This is typical of all cigarette prices. Offer a bell boy in a Berlin hotel a piece of money for his service and he will answer, “IT would rather have a cigarette.” It is hazardous to leave your boots outside your door or your wardrobe unlocked. This in- vites ordinary theft. The knowledge that you have cigarettes concealed in your room, 1owever, almost marks you for murder. It is no unusual sight to see a long line of men and women outside a Berlin cigar store waiting for a chance to buy the ration of cigarettes Like New York and other p> ee ey cities, Berlin has various chains of cigar stores. One of these groups spe- cializes in che “ap goods. Stocks are so low that cigarettes are sold only between nine and ten in the morning. Each customer is allowed only ten cigarettes. Hence the long queues, which begin to form as early as seven o'clock. This regulation is not con- fined to the cheap shops. On the door of the establishment de luxe of the most ex- pensive tobacconist in Unter den Linden this sign is displayed: ‘‘This shop is open only between nine and twelve and three and four o'clock. Cigars and cigarettes are sold only on Saturday between nine and twelve.” Though cigarettes in considerable quan- tities are made in Germany— the center of the industry is Dresden, where it is con- trolled by Greeks—the average German prefers a foreign cigarette. Such American and British goods as find their way into the country bring six to eight times the price that they fetch in the United States This matter of cigarettes discloses an- other startling change caused by the war. Before 1914 Germany was essentially a cigar and pipe smoking country. Whenever you saw a portrait of a contented Teuton he was pulling away at a long meerschaum. The war, however, set the German, just as it set the Briton and the Frenchman, to moking cigarettes. This was natural. Millions of men went into the army. Dur- ing the long waits in the trenches or behind the lines a short quick smoke became the thing Men smoked cigarettes who had never touched them before, and they ac- quired the habit. Last year thirty billion cigarettes were sold in Germany It is almost double the former consumption. Good cigars are and costly. Be- fore the war the well-to-do German liked an imported weed, though he did smoke large quantities of Dutch and native cigars. Some cigar prices are almost ridiculous. If scarce you seek a certain premier after-dinner ( r made in Cuba, which sells in the United States for sixty cents, you may pos exclusive sibly be able to get it at a few The restaurants for seventy-five marks. prewar price in Berlin was four marks. In one Berlin shop I saw a box of Ameri- can five-centers that were part of a large consignment of excess A. E. Quarter- masters’ stores sold to the Germans. It still had the American army label on it, EVENING POST which included the army retail price of one dollar for the whole twenty-five. The box was selling in Berlin for exactly fifty marks. Of course there is still a tremendous con- sumption of German-made cigars. Most of them come from Hamburg. The native cigar that sold for half a mark or a mark in 1914 now brings six to ten marks, according to size. In connection with these German cigars I can relate rather an interesting in- cident. I took a German financier to lunch at a well-known restaurant in Berlin. When the coffee was served I handed him an imported cigar. It was out of a box that I had bought in the American canteen at Coblenz. We talked so long that our cigars were exhausted and I asked the waiter to bring a box of the best German cigars he had. To my astonishment the box he brought was labeled ‘Graf Bernstorff.””. On the cover was a picture of Bernstorff, flanked by the German Embassy at Washington on one side and the White House on the other. At the bottom was the reproduction of an American flag. The late German Ambas- sador to the United States was at least not without honor in his own country because he had had a cigar named for him. Maximilian Harden Up to this time I have dealt with Ger- mans in the abstract. Now for the final phase I shall present a concrete personality in Maximilian Harden, the militant jour- nalist whose denunciations of William Hohenzollern landed him in prison on more than one occasion back in the days when lese majesty was full brother to arson or murder in Germany. I felt that any study of the nation in process of evolution would be incomplete without a talk with the most interesting of all contemporary Teutonic figures. Harden is the editor of Die Zukunft The Future—a pugnacious weekly which was suppressed a number of times during the war. The son of a Berlin merchant, he became an actor after his graduation from college, and then turned to writing. There are many people in Germany who think that Harden has never ceased to be an actor. In any event, once he dipped his pen into ink he began to write strong stuff. Harden was among the first to get, as we would say in America, the right dope on the former Kaiser. He arraigned him as a weak self- willed near-degenerate, and was imme- diately put behind the bars for it. It was Harden who exposed the nefarious ring round the Kaiser, back in the nineties, which led to a whole moral reform at the German court. Largely because of his criticism of the Hohenzollerns there de- veloped a close friendship between the litor and Bismarck. They agreed on one thing, which was that the deposed Emperor was a royal false alarm. On an afternoon late in September | motored out to the Grunewald, loveliest of all the Berlin suburbs, to have a look at the man who had so long and so consistently defied the imperial iightning. He lives ina neat flower-embowered villa surrounded by trees. In the library, whose walls were lined with books from floor to ceiling, I got my first glimpse of Harden. He is slight and wiry of figure and nervous of move- ment. His face looks like a cross between LET THE SELLER BEWARE! Continued from Page 10) ‘Probably. But that doesn’t interest us, does it? What we want is a proved truck. My idea is to let the other fellow experi- ment.”” 1 don’t think it would be an experiment with the Mileage true k, " the president said with some asperity. ‘To be blunt, I'd like to try at least two Mileage trucks.” ‘Is that an order, Mr. Baker?’ ‘N-no,” the president said hesitatingly. He was unaccustomed to this sort of cheek from subordinates and frankly disliked it. On the other hand he had a good deal of respect for his purchasing agent. At last he ~—— “No, | won't give you any orders. But I'm stating my pre ferences to you. We'll let it go at that.’ The purchasing agent rose “You can depend on my using the best judgment I have, Mr. Baker,”’ he said. “ Remember that I'm buying the trucks for the company not for myself. If we had an engineering expert in my depart- ment “An engineering expert?” the president interrupted testily. “I suppose that’s the next thing we'll have to buy you, eh? But what for?” ‘Yes, you'll have to come to that,” Wiley said, smiling. ‘‘And when you have one I'll pass up tests and experiments to him and be able to get you better mate- rials as well as better prices. But as long as we haven't an engineer I'll have to go ahead on judgment. L'll let you know what I find out With this information planted to be cul- tivated later the purchasing agent left. He was in a disagreeable position. He liked the president and the company. But he had been looking for something like this to develop and he rather welcomed the chance to have the thing over with one way or the other. What worried him particularly now was his own mental balance. He knew from experience and the teaching of his former chief, old John Greer of Sharp Steel, that he had not only to resist the appeal November 29, 1/9/19 an actor and a scholar. His forehead is broad and his eyes are deep and searching. He speaks in a low, gentle and almost musical voice. Though Harden understands French and English our conversation was carried on entirely in German. With whe as with many other Germans I demonstrated the efficacy of one of the cardinal selling points in big interviewing, namely, that a man is always more at ease and imparts more readily when you talk to him in his native tongue. I found Harden eager to learn everything possible about the state of the American mind. He not only has a tremendous ad- miration for President Wilson but declared himself unreservedly in favor of a League of Nations. He designated it as ‘“‘a vast force for good, part of the hope of the world.” Unlike the rest of his countrymen Harden is of the opinion that the Versailles treaty is a just visitation on Germany. He was the only human betng I met within the con- fines of that former empire who expressed regret over the misdeeds of the German Army and Navy. He believes that the arch criminals who outraged every law of de cency should be brought to book, and his list of culprits includes the captains of in dustry “‘guilty of attempted destruction of competing wealth.” ‘How about the trial of the Kaiser? I asked Harden. “To try the Kaiser now,” was the reply, “would be mistake, because it would simply make a martyr of a real culprit.” He feels, however, that “‘the German people should not be held responsible for the deeds of the military masters who deluded and fooled them.” “Has real democracy come to many?" was my next query. Harden pondered a moment and then answered, “Not yet, but it is coming. At the present time there are many Germans who want some of the old order as well a some of the new. They cannot have their cake and eat it too. I believe, however, that real democracy is bound to come.” *“*What has Germany learned from t! war?” I asked. ‘That she must think of others as well of herself,’’ was the swift retort. When we spoke about the future rela tions between the United States and Ge many Harden said, “‘Though the wa hatred must burn itself out 1 am convince that in time a new and real relationship will , Ger- de velop between the two countries. For merly Germany ruthlessly cultivated the United States as a weapon against Eng Now she will undertake to cultivate land. America for her own sake. To summarize the situation in German: is tosay this: The end of the war found the nation still possessed of a tremendous po tential strength. A year of unrest and indecision finds this strength unimpaired but trembling in the balance. Through radical political upheaval it may develop into a serious menace to rehabilitation and permanent peace. Aided but kept under drastic stewardship to prevent abuse of power, it can be converted into a construc tive force for world stabilization. This is the first of a series of articles by Mr. Marcosson dealing with conditions in Germany. The next will be devoted to the industrial situation. Ex litor’ s Note the president’s wishes made to him in the truck matter but he had also to resist any unconscious tendency in himself toward being antagonized and doing the Mileage an injustice. It would be easy to be in- fluenced toward buying the Mileage by the fact that the president urged it so strongly; it would be even easier to lean backward and adopt an unfriendly attitude that had nothing to do with the merits of the question. As he had ten days in which to make up his mind he took on a short lecture course on mechanics, read text books omnivorously and almost ruined his eyes pursuing the academics of motor- truck operation. But everything he learned strengthened his early preference for the Grand and he decided to order four of them Just before the order was to be given the president sent for him and introduced salesman. “This is Mr. Motor Car Company, Mr. Wiley,” (Continued on Page 57) Knibbs of the Mileage he said.

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST OMPARISONS reveal visible advantages in Fisk Cord Tires—uncommon in size, good looks and workmanship. But only the travel test of thousands and thousands of miles can reveal the sturdy integrity built into them. The Fisk Ideal makes Fisk Cords inevitable. It is— “To be the best concern in the world to work for, and the - et graner [ eet squarest concern in cxistence i to do business with.” ; \\ ¥ | Next Time—BUY FISK From Your Dealer Time to Re-tire® '

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST November 29, 1919 ~y he y ) oS Bee | MINUTE MAN Sik =" re of | > F h “= : , 4 i . P 4 - 4 } Df *, s Previous Successes controlled, getting fu// light for passing New Model S, Overshadow j wort? It +} —> f t} incr owe! d saving of fuel re I t | t] | and perfected be sulting from our exclusive Moore Mul cars without blinding others. 1 Say e of their relat to each other tiple Ex! t system and a wond rful It will be a pleasure to acquaint you \ S na f supe new manittold, to hanale low grade el, thoroughly with Model S--write us or that they vuld operate our new Cable lo ae Tag pete: i tes eaenl eeeiineaten ddais see a Lexington dealer. \\ evel r owner could ex not affect the pedal, and how equally Its moderate price, $1885, is possible Det e thrill of its powertul, fluent it grips both wheel that thev could only because of the vast manufacturing that the ild realize the use the new 2-Way head lamps, vacuum facilities allied with Lexington. Lexington Motor Company, Connersville, Indiana, U. S. A.

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Continued from Page 54 “T’ve been talking to him about his truc ks and he has me more interested than ever. The purchasing agent looked the presi- dent in the eye. “Are you buying the trucks then?” he asked. “No, that’s why I called you in. I thought you'd like to get into touch with Mr. Knibbs.” “All right, sir. I'll talk to Knibbs.” And he started toward his own office, beckoning to the salesman. The president intervened. “You don’t need to go, Wiley,” he said. “T have a little time to spare and I'd like to hear this truck matter threshed out right here.”’ Wiley turned round abruptly. “Then let me make the first talk, Mr. Baker,’ he said quietly. “I was going to take Knibbs into my office and tell him that we didn’t want his truck. Now I'll have to tell him here.” The president bristled. “What's that?” “I’ve decided that the company can’t afford to buy Mileage trucks and I’ve made up my mind on an order to another firm.” “What kind are you going to buy?”’ the president snapped. “T’m not ready to tell Mr. Wiley smiled. “Go ahead!” the agent said stiffly. ‘Don’t mind me!” ‘But I do mind you, Mr. Knibbs. Sup- posing that I were negotiating with you and another salesman came to me for in- formation—would you like me to name you and your line to him? Honestly, now?’ “Well, no,”’ the agent replied after a moment’s hesitation. “I suppose that if you did he would immediately focus on arguments that would show you where h is truck beat mine. And the debate might give him a lot of information I'd rather he didn’t have.” ‘Exactly! I make it a rule, Mr. Baker,” the purchasing agent said, turning again to his president, ‘‘never to discuss one agent or his commodities or his prices or any- thing about him with a competitor. The boys know that is my rule and they all like it. It gives everyh« dy an even break and it saves comp licatio “It’s a good rule, Mr. Wiley,” the truck salesman interjecte 4. “And I believe I'm in the way here. If you decice to reopen the truck question, let me know.” And he walked out. Meantime the president had been fidget- ing in his chair. When the visitor was gone he turned rather snappishly to Wiley. “You'd better clear up this truck ques- tion now,” he said rather testily. “I’m ready, Mr. Baker. I don’t find a single feature about the Mileage to recom- mend it to us—-there’s the long and short of it. I’ve decided to buy four Grands— in fact, the requisition is written and lying on my desk now.” ‘Then you'd better tear it up,’’ the presi- dent said. He was headstrong and a trifle tempery and this flat opposition galled him. ‘I had decided to have you buy four Mile- age trucks, but I will compromise W with you an d let you take two of each.’ “No, you won't, Mr. Baker,” the pur- chasing agent said. “You'll accept my resignation. I will go back and dictate it Knibbs.”’ at once The president stared. “Do you mean that, manded ‘I mean just that, Mr. Baker, and I'll tell you why. Don’t think that my trouble is wounded vanity or hurt pride, because I haven't any of either commodity in my system, so far as I know. I think perhaps you've overlooked the importance of some- thing I said to you the first day 1 was here. I said then that I wanted full authority in my own department. Remember that?” “Yes, perfectly. But you have practi- cally full authority.” “Practically isn’t enough, sir. Let me show you what would happen if you or any department head could tell me what to buy and what not to buy. Understand, I’m always open to suggestion and advice. I don’t pretend to know it all. About a great many things the department heads, or even some of your employees, can give me cards and spades. But when it comes to the final decision I’m the lad who has to make it. If you can take details of my work Wiley?” he de- out of my hands, the treasurer can, or the shipper or the factory superintendents. Don’t you see? to buy trucks To-day you are wanting they would want to buy THE SATURDAY pencils or account books or tires or cans or machines or something. And pretty soon we would be back where we were before I came—without a purchasing agent except in name. And that’s what I meant when I first came here and said that I could be of service to the company if I was given authority and backing.” “But I am merely insisting that we have at least two Mileage trucks in our fleet,” the president interjected stubbornly. “Tam certain that you would regret it if we bought them,” Wiley said instantly ** And if we could both take the time I could prove it to you. I've been studying noth- ing but trucks for ten days and I've learned quite a little. But even if 1 thought there was a chance that the Mileage might prove a good investment for us there is a second and very strong reason why I would resign before accepting dictation from you or any official on such a matter.” “I suppose I might as well have it, young man,” the president sighed. “It is this: If the salesmen found out through one isolated instance that the offi- cials of this company could use their in- fluence on me in buying I wouldn’t be worth a clerk’s salary to you ina month.” The president leaned forward. “What do you mean by that?” “T mean that my principal value lies in my buying advantageously and economi- lly over a long period of time, and that ability rests on my complete independence of all kinds of influences. If you are going to pick out our motor trucks you will be the man the motor truck salesmen will set out to sell. And not only that, but the word will go round and tire men, accessory agents, body builders and others will be trying to get to you. That opens the door. And the same thing applies to every de- partment of the company.” ‘But I wouldn't let them see me.” “You let Knibbs see you.”’ “Y-yes, but that was because I was in- terested in Mileage trucks.” “Quite so—this time. But you would have to convince them all of the fact that this was an exceptional case. And as I said before, you've opened the door now. That, however, is not the principal point. The important thing is that salesmen would lose confidence in me at once, and confidence in me is what I have been trying to build up ever since I’ve been with you. If they thought I was a figurehead they would treat me as a figurehead—and they would be right.””. He broke off and studied the president for a moment. “Shall I go and write that resignation now, or do you want to hear something about my methods?” The president smiled. “We'll let the resignation go for the present. I'd like to have this thing out.” “So should I.” The purchasing agent sat down. “I’m not going into the pur- chasing process very deeply,”’ he said, “but I want you to understand how important it is to you—not to me—to give me free rein. To begin with, there is no depart ment of your business where the personal equation enters so largely as it does into my work. Under the method John Greer taught me every salesman who hopes to do business with this company thinks of only one man here. That man is the purchasing agent. They ‘have t to sell that man and they have to do it on terms and with such treatment of him as to keep him sold. The ones who don’t operate that way don't sell anything to us and, what’s more, they know the ‘re is no use in trying. “I'm in the market all right, provided they've got what we use, that it comes up tostandard quality, ata fair price, promptly d just as it is represented to me. Ob- viously I can’t go out and buy—the sales raen have to come to me, Those salesmen have to interest me and convince me. ‘They know it. If I am a crook they find it out in a week. If I’m bull-headed and ignorant they have to think up tricks for getting round me. If they can flatter me into buy ing they will doit. If they can frighten me or get me panicky they invent wild tales and come in on the run. In other words, they play me like a fish. If they don’t sell me they don’t sell the company. So I'm the man the salesmen study. “That puts a big responsibility on me, as you can see. Perhaps you haven't thought of that before. I know that com- paratively few business executives realize the extent to which their buyers must be trusted to get the best results. A good many of them would faint if they knew what was going on in their purchasing de- partments. But every little while there EVENING POST comes a show-down like this one and then the executive has to learn and to decide for himself which system he is going to follow. The question is: Are you going to have a clerk at the head of my department who is a cog in your mac hine and nothing more, or are you going to have a real department chief who ranks with the other executives? It isn’t a question of honor and glory-—not a bit of it. It’s a question of cold dollars and cents.” “I think I see what you are driving at now—-the matter of initiative. “Absolutely! The matter of making a job that is worth holding and then getting the right man to hold it. Maybe I'm not the man in this case. But whoever he is he must have authority to match his responsibility and—-and his load, we'll call it. I have to be keen, up on the markets, familiar with conditions in a thousand lines of trade, quick on decisions, watchful, easy to get along with and hard to fool. ‘But there is another thing I have to be and that is honest. If I were crooked I could make ten thousand dollars a month in graft right here under your nose. But how long would my graft last? About one month! Because the moment I began to accept bribes or presents or favors from salesmen this company would begin paying for those favors in hard cash and in poor goods, In the second month, moreover, it would begin to pay in increased prices, be cause the salesman who bribes a buyer ex pects to get his bribe back in the form of graft for himself or his firm—with interest I’ve been at this work ten years now and the only three crooked purchasing agents I have known in that time are now down and out—ruined It's worth thinking about from your point of view.” ‘That's true,” the president agreed. ‘1 can see that. Go on with the lecture.”’ Wiley smiled. “TI don’t mean to make it sound like that,” he said. ‘But I believe it will pay to thresh the whole thing out and give you my angle on it. ‘I've said that salesmen, when they think of selling anything to this company, think only of selling it to me. That means that there is an immediate and fairly close connection between the salesmen and my- self. Those fellows are human. In the past buying was Cone in a very slipshod fashior The successful salesman was the good fellow and mixer, the shrewd and clever man, the bright and compelling talker—or the crook. The sales manager's idea of a good salesman was one who could take a stock of she spworn or inferior goods or a line in which the house was heavy and clean it all out by his slick methods. *Now that is all being changed—by pur- chasing agents by the buyers, It is more true every day that honesty and fair deal- ing are the best policies in business. The men I do the bulk of my buying from are plain, straightforward, quiet fellows who know they can trust me to keep my word with them, who know what I want in the way of quality and who don’t waste any time offering me poor goods or making me high prices. On the other hand, they are the kind of fellows I know I can trust. Mutually we are on this basis ing, fair prices, prompt deliveries and ready accommodation on their side; fair treat- ment, an even break, prompt payment and friendly interest and appreciation on mine. *My experience with Sharp Stee lta ight me a lot about the salesmen one has to avoid. When I came to you I met most of my old acquaintances and a good many new ones. In the last few months I have found only four men I couldn’t trust. They don't call any more. But not a single salesman or agent has quit me yet because he couldn't trust me. That’s the extent of the human equation in buying. Am I talking too much?” The pre ident shook his head “Go on,”” he said; “I’m listening “I'm about through I had to lay a foundation, as the lawyers say. If you are willing to concede the correctness of m system you will have to go a step farther and agree that the whole thing falls to the ground if the salesman has reason to believe that lam only astraw man. Once or twice department heads here have tried to order goods or induce me to, but I’ve put my foot down. They don’t try it twice. And now the salesmen never think of trying any other method of selling than the direct one of walking into my office and stating their proposition showing their goods, “Can't you see, Mr. Baker, that I must do the buying or else get out? If Knibbs 57 here thought that you were buying truck instead of me he would not only come to you for business but he would pass the word outside that I was only a straw buyer If I told Wentworth of the Sellit Paper and Box Company that I would pay only two- fifty a thousand for cartons, his first hunch would be to appeal to you. If he couldn't get you he might try Meekins or Short or some of those fellows in the producing de partmert. And my grip would slip. Now | can say to Wentworth, ‘I'll pay two-tifty a thousand for butter cartons and not one penny more. Take it or leave it.”. And the chances are that he will take it. But if he thinks a final answer can be got somewhere else he will hedge a while and then slip out to see how best to build a shootly track round me ‘The whole thing comes down to thi more than anywhere else in your business you can’t split authority in buying.” The president leaned back in his swivel- chair “| begin to see, Wiley,” he said frankly “And I think we'll buy four Grand truck Does that satisfy you?” Wiley flushed. “Don't misunderstand me, Mr. Baker,” he said. “It isn't for the sake of satisfying me that I want you to pull out on the truck matter I haven't even touched on the relative merits of the two Fe The president broke into a laugh ““No, you haven't,” he cried, “and you're not going to! You're too fast a talker for me. Run along and operate your own de partment in your own way And whe I want your resignation I'll let you know Good afternoon—and good luck to you! So the truck incident was closed — almost Parenthetically it may be remarked that about a year later the president found on his desk a clipping reporting that the Mile age Motor Car Company had suspended its truck line because they had not been successful in bringing trucks up to the standards they had set and maintained for their passenger vehicles. President Bake smiled a little and sent for the tran porta tion manager. *‘Doane,” he said, “we bought four Grand trucks about a year ago. I've bee: wondering lately how they have stood for you - The hard-boiled manager grinned ‘I'd hate to have you think I was getting paid for boosting,” he said, “but the truth is that those (¢ > ire the best invest ment we ever made Or ly one of the four has ever been in the shop and that one wa hit by another car—and dented. All four of them have run round tifteen thousand miles and they look to me to be good fur ten years’ more service.” ‘Thanks, Doane,” the president said That's what I wanted to know President Baker picked up the clippi and wrote on the margin, “ What’ the matter someone monkeying with your authority again?——J. B. B.”’ rhen he sent it to the purchasing agent’ desk He thought he knew where the « lip ping had come from In the meantime, however, many things had happened to increase the president respect for his buyer. Shortly after the latter's threat to resign he walked into the ottice of the president with an anxious face and said abruptly, “Chief, do you know that there is a big labor strike coming that may tie us up tight ten days after starts The - president laughed ‘That's a little off your beat, isn't it, Wiley?” he inquired good-natured! **What sort of strike are you prophesying?"’ and he was right. ‘Railroads. Jt may blow over, but looks ominous to me now.” ‘You are making a mountain of trouble out of the molehill of labor agitatior If we believed everything we heard “No this time it’s the real thing “What makes you think so?” “| get it through the purcha ing agent association. I’ve just heard this morning that the New Iron Works have ordered and tored coke and pig iron enough to rur them for three months.” *Well?”’ ‘Who owns the New pl ints, chief? ‘The Jacksons, I uppow sig “Backed by therailroad that, haven't you?” ‘Um-m-m! I see! You think they have been forewarned?” y ‘I'm sure of it. And I want to stretcl a little and buy for a year ahead if necessary.’ ‘A year is a long time, Wiley.” You've guessed my authority

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November 29, 1919 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST ewe ee — MINUTE MAN Sik —=—"_— . Model S, Overshadows Previous Successes | +} : tot f all t] ' Vil ot tuel re controlled, getting fué/ light for passit cars without blinding others. ! fort is inadequat t ts tu mot that they could realize the use tl Lexington Motor Company, Connersville, Indiana, U. S. A. QIROOC SERIO IFIROO HFRIOC HR IDOFIFROC ISR IC IF ROCHW ROC IAF ED oe iS : y New HOSE w e eved wortl It e sum total of all these eased power and sa T: , +] eived d | ted be ilting our exclusive Moore Mul ‘ e of their relation to ¢a ther tiple | lust system and a wonde rful It will be a pleasure to acquaint yi that Model S its margin of supe new manifold, to handle low grade Tuc I; thoroughly with Model S—write us or that the ild operate our new Cable rn Ves Deake and one how toad tounhness dost see a Lexington dealer. \\ é \ 1 eX ot affect the pedal, and how equally Its moderate price, $1885, is possible { its powertul, fluent it grips both wheels; that they could only because of the vast manufacturing { e the new 2-Way head lamps, vacuum facilities allied with Lexington.

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oa Continued from Page 54 ‘I’ve been talking to him about his trucks and he has me more interested than ever.” The purchasing agent looked the presi- dent in the eye. “Are you buying the trucks then?” he asked. “No, that’s why I called you in. I thought you'd like to get into touch with Mr. Knibbs.” “All right, sir. I'll talk to Knibbs.” And he started toward his own office, beckoning to the salesman. The president intervened. “You don’t need to go, Wiley,”’ he said. “T have a little time to spare and I'd like to hear this truck matter threshed out right here ” Wiley turned round abruptly. “Then let me make the first talk, Mr. Baker,” he said quietly. “‘I was going to iake Knibbs into my office and tell him that we didn’t want his truck. Now I'll have to tell him here.” The president bristled. “W hat’ s that?” “T’ve decided that the company can’t afford to buy Mileage trucks and I’ve made up my mind on an order to another firm.” “What kind are you going to buy?” the president snapped. “I’m not ready to tell Mr. Knibbs.”’ Wiley smiled. “Go ahead! _the agent said stiffly Don’ t mind me!” ‘But I do nied you, Mr. Knibbs. Sup- posing that I were negotiating with you and another salesman came to me for in- formation—would you like me to name you and your line to him? Honestly, now?” “Well, no,” the agent replied after a moment's hesitation. “I suppose that if you did he would immediately focus on arguments that would show you where his truck beat mine. And the debate might give him a lot of information I'd rather he didn’t have.” ‘Exactly! I make it a rule, Mr. Baker,” the purchasing agent said, turning again to his president, ‘never to discuss one agent or his commodities or his prices or any- thing about him with a competitor. The boys know that is my rule and they all like it. It gives everybody an even break and it saves comp jlications.” “It’s a good rule, Mr. Wiley,” the truck salesman interjected. *‘And I believe I'm in the way here. If you decice to reopen the truck question, let me know.” And he walked out. Meantime the president had been fidget- ing in his chair. When the visitor was gone he turned rather snappishly to W iley “You'd better clear up this truck ques- tion now,” he said rather testily. ‘I'm ready, Mr. Baker. I don’t find a single feature ‘abou t the Mileage to recom- mend it to us—there’s the long and short of it. I've decided to buy four Grands— in fact, the requisition is written and lying on my desk now.” “Then you'd better tear it up,” the presi- dent said. He was headstrong and a trifle tempery an d this flat opposition galled him. “T had — 1 to have you buy four Mile- age trucks, but I will a with you and let you take two of each. “No, you won't, Mr. Baker,” the pur- chasing agent said. ‘You'll accept my resignation. I will go back and dictate it at once.” The president stared. “Do you mean that, manded. “I mean just that, Mr. Baker, and I'll tell you why. Don’t think that my trouble is wounded vanity or hurt pride, because I haven't any of either commodity in my system, so far as 1 know. I think perhaps you've overlooked the importance of some- thing I said to you the first day I was here. I said then that ] wanted full authority in my own department. Remember that?” “Yes, perfectly. But you have practi- cally ‘full authority.” “Practically isn’t enough, sir. Let me show you what would happen if you or any department head could tell me what to buy and what not to buy. Understand, I’m always open to suggestion and advice. I don’t pretend to know it all. About a great many things the department heads, or even some of your employees, can give me cards and spades. But when it comes to the final decision I’m the lad who has to make it. If you can take details of my work out of my hands, the treasurer can, or the shipper or the factory superintendents. To-day you are wanting they would want to buy Wiley?” he de- Don’t you see? to buy trucks THE SATURDAY pencils or account books or tires or cans or machines or something. And pretty soon we would be back where we were before | came—without a purchasing agent except in name. And that’s what I meant when I first came here and said that I could be of service to the company if I was given authority and backing.” “But I am merely insisting that we h: ive at least two Mileage trucks in our fleet,’ the president interjected stubbornly. “T am certain that you woul . regret it if we bought them,” Wiley said instantly. “And if we could both take the time I could prove it to you. I’ve been studying noth- ing but trucks for ten days and I’ve learned quite a little. But even if I thought there was a chance that the Mileage might prove a good investment for us there is a second and very strong reason why I would resign before accepting dictation from you or any official on such a matter.” ‘I suppose I might as well young man,” the president sighed. It is this: If the salesmen found out through one isolated instance that the oifi- cials of this company could use their in- fluence on me in buying I wouldn't be worth a clerk’s salary to you in a month.” The president leaned forward. ““What do you mean by that?” “T mean that my principal value lies in my buying advantageously and economi- cally over a long period of time, and that ability rests on my complete independence of all kinds of influences. If you are going to pick out our motor trucks you will be the man the motor truck salesmen will set out to sell. And not only that, but the word will go round and tire men, accessory agents, body builders and others will be trying to get to you. That opens the door. And the same thing applies to every de- partment of the company.” ‘But I wouldn't let them see me “You let Knibbs see you.” “Y-yes, but that was because I was in- terested in Mileage trucks.” “Quite so—this time. But you would have to convince them all of the fact that this was an exceptional case. And as I said before, you've opened the door now. That, however, is not the principal point The important thing is that salesmen would lose confidence in me at once, and confidence in me is what I have been trying to build up ever since I've been with you. If they thought 1 was a figurehead they would treat me as a figurehead—and they would be right.””. He broke off and studied the president for a moment. ‘Shall I go and write that resignation now, or do you want to hear something about my methods?” The president smiled. “We'll let the resignation go for the present. I'd like to have this thing out.” “So should I.” The purchasing agent sat down. “I’m not going into the pur- chasing process very deeply,” he said, “ but I want you to understand how important it is to you—not to me—to give me free rein. To begin with, there is no depart- ment of your business where the personal equation enters so largely as it does into my work. Under the method John Greer taught me every salesman who hopes to do business with this company thinks of only one man here. That man is the purchasing agent. They have to sell that man and they have to do it on terms and with such treatment of him as to keep him sold. The ones who don’t operate that way don't sell —o to us and, what’s more, they know the ‘re is no use in trying. mi m in the market all right, provided they've got what we use, that it comes up tostandard quality, ata fair price, promptly id just as it is represented to me. Ob- viously I can’t go out and buy—the sales men have to come to me. Those salesmen have to interest me and convince me. They know it. If I am a crook they find it out ina week. If I’m bull-headed and ignorant they have to think up tricks for getting round me. If they can flatter me into buy- ing they will doit. If they can frighten me or get me panicky they invent wild tales and come in on the run. In other words, they play me like a fish. If they don’t sell me they don’t sell the company. So I’m the man the salesmen study. “That puts a big responsibility on me, as you can see. Perhaps you haven't thought of that before. I know that com- paratively few business executives realize the extent to which their buyers must be trusted to get the best results. A good many of them would faint if they knew what was going on in their purchasing de- partments. But every little while there have it, EVENING POST comes a show-down like this one and then the executive has to learn and to decide for himself which system he is going to follow. The question is: Are you going to have a clerk at the head of my department who is a cog in your machine and nothing more, or are you going to have a real department chief who ranks with the other executives? It isn’t a question of honor and glory——not a bit of it. It’s a question of cold dollars and cents.’ ‘I think I see what you are driving at now —the matter of initiative.” “Absolutely! The matter of making a job that is worth holding and then getting the right man to hold it. Maybe I’m not the man in this case. But whoever he is, he must have authority to match his responsibility and—and his load, we'll call it. I have to be keen, up on the markets familiar with conditions in a thousand lines of trade, quick on decisions, watchful, easy to get along with and hard to fool. **But there is another thing I have to be, and that is honest. | were crooked | could make ten thousand dollars a month in graft right here under your nose. But how long would my graft last?) About one month! Because the moment I began to accept bribes or presents or favors from salesmen this company would begin paying for those favors in hard cash and in poor goods. In the second month, moreover, it would begin to pay in increased prices, be cause the salesman who bribes a buyer ex pects to get his bribe back in the form of graft for himself or his firm—with interest I've been at this work ten years now and the oniy three crooked purchasing agents I have known in that time are now down and out—ruined. It’s worth thinking about from your point of view.” ‘That's true,” the president agreed. ‘I can see that Go on with the lecture.” Wiley smiled. “IT don’t mean to make it that,”’ he said. ‘But I believe it will pay to thresh the whole thing out and give you my angle on it. ‘I've said that salesmen, when they think of selling anything to this company, think only of selling it to me. That means that there is an immediate and fairly close connection between the men and my self. Those fellows are human. In the past ay ing was done in a very slipshod fashior The successful salesman was the good fellow = mixer, the shrewd and clever man, the bright and compe Hing talker—or the crook. The sales manager's idea of a good salesman was one who could take a stock of shopworn or inferior goods or a line in which the house was heavy and clean it all out by his slick methods ‘Now that is all being changed—by pur- sound like sales chasing agents—-by the buyers. It is more true every day that honesty and fair deal ing are the best policies in business The men | do the bulk of my buying from are plain, straightforward, quiet fellows who know they can trust me to keep my word with them, who know what I want in the way of quality and who don't waste any time offering me poor goods or making me high prices. On the other hand, they are the kind of fellows I know I can trust. ge we are on this basis—truth tell ing, fair prices, prompt deliveries and ready accommodation on their side; fair treat- ment, an even break, prompt payment and friendly interest and appreciation on mine. ‘My experience with Sharp Steel taught me a lot about the salesmen one has to avoid. When I came to you I met most of my old acquaintances and a good many new In the last few months I have found four men I couldn't trust. The y don't ones, only call ar iy more. But not a single salesman re rage nt hasqi lit me yet because he couldn't ust me. That's the extent of the human prea so in buying Am I talking too much?” The pre ident shook his head “Go on,” he said; “I'm listening “I’m about through. I had to lay a foundation, as the lawyers say. If you are willing to concede the correctness of m system you will have to go a step farther and agree that the wi g falls to the ground if the salesman has reason to believe that lam only astraw man. Once or twi¢e department heads here have — to order goods or induce me to, but I’ve put my foot down. They don’t try it And now the salesmen never think of trying any other method of selling than the direct one of walking into my office and stating their proposition — showing their g« oods, “Can't you see, Mr. Baker, that I must do the buying or else get out? If Knibbs har here thought that you were buying truck instead of me he would not only come to you for business but he would word outside that I was only a straw buyer If I told Wentworth of the Sellit Paper and Box Company that I would pay only two fifty a thousand for cartons, his first hunch would be to appeal to you. If he couldn't get you he might try Meekins or Short or some of those fellows in the producing de partmert. And my grip would slip. Now I can say to Wentworth, ‘I'll pay two-fifty a thousand for butter cartons and not one penny more. Take it or leave it.”. And the chances are that he will take it. But if he pass the thinks a final answer can be got somewhere else he will hedge a while an d th 1 slip out to see how best to build a shoot track round me ‘The whole thing comes down to thi more than anywhere else in your business you can't split authority in buying.” The president leaned back in his swivel chair ‘I begin to see, Wiley,”’ he said frankly “And I think we'll buy four Grand truck Does that satisfy you?” Wiley flushed ‘Don’t misunderstand me, Mr. Baker,’ he said. “It isn’t for the sake of satisfying me that I want you to pull out on the truck matter. I haven't even relative merits of the two The president broke into a laugh “No, you haven't,” he cried, “and you're not going to! You're a talker for me. Run along and operate your own de partment in your own way And wher I want your resignation I'll let you know Good afternoon--and good luck to you!” So the truck incident was closed—-almost Parenthetically it may be remarked that about a year later the president found on his desk ac lipping re navi iw that the Mile age Motor Car Company had suspended its truck line because they had not successful in bringing trucks up to the standards they had set and maintained for their passenger vehicles. President Bake smiled a little and sent for the transporta tion manager touched on the too fast beer “Doane,” he said, “‘we bought four Grand trucks about a year ago. I've beer wondering lately how they have stood up for you.” The hard-boiled manager grinned. ‘I'd hate to have you think I was getting paid for boosting,”’ he said, “* but the trut! is that those Grands are the best invest ment we ever made. Only one of the four has ever been in the shop and that one wa hit by another car—and dented. All four of them have run round fifteen thousand and they look to me to be good I nh year ’ more service.”’ ‘Thanks, Doane,” the president said ‘That's what [ wanted to know,” President Baker picked up the clipping and wrote on the margin, “What's the matter--someone monkeying with your authority again?——-J. B. B.’ Then he sent it to the purchasing agent desk He thought he knew where the « hip ping had come from --and he was right. In the meantime, however, many thing had happe ned to increase the president’ respect for his buyer Shortly after the latter's threat to resign he walked into the oltice of the pre sident with an anxious face and said abruptly, “Chief, do you know that there is a big labor strike cominy that may tie us up tight ten days after starts?” The president laughed ‘That's a little off your beat, isn't it, Wiley?” he inquired good-natured! ‘What sort of strike are you prophesying? ** Railroads It may blow over Tt) looks ominous to me now.” “You are making a mountain of tro out of the molehill of labor ayitatio If we believed everything we heard **No, this time it’s the real thing.”’ ‘What makes you think so?” “| get it through the purchasing agent assoclatior I've just cary sherds morning that the New Iron Works have ordered and tored coke and pig iron enough to rur them for three months.” ‘Well?” ‘Who owns the New pl ints, chief?’ ‘The Jacksons, I ippose.” ‘Backed by therailroad. You've guessed that, haven’t you?” ‘Um-m-m! Isee! You think they have been forewarned?” ‘I’m sure of it. And I want to stretch my authority a little and buy for a year ahead if necessary.” “A year is a long time, Wiley.”

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ro ~* s Not long, if we are running at full capacity, as a month would be if we were ' OW there omething in that.” And if we were cut off from our raw- iterial supplies, even for a few days, we hould be hamstrung. Another thing that I've figured is that most prices are going to go up-—at least they are not going to go low! You know the state of the labor irket. Wages are up to stay for the pres- ent. Everything in the world of business points to high levels And so I figure that we couldn't lose much by buying, even 1 the transportation strike doesn’t ma- terialize.”’ “T’'ll leave it to you, Wiley,” the presi- dent said. “ But I think you are mistaken about the tie-up.” The purchasing agent went out and took off his coat. In ten minutes his office was humming like a top. Three weeks later a local railroad yard strike began suddenly and spread over the whole state. Manufacturers who had been caught nap- ping went into the air. Purchasing agents everywhere began running for cover. Sales- men, jobbers, importers and producers of raw materials had to lock themselves in their offices to keep importunate buyers from mobbing them. The big manufactur- ing centers of the city were practically paralyzed But Purchasing Agent Wiley sat back and smiled at their woe. His own com- pany was running to capacity. On the econd day of the strike President Baker returned from a week's inspection trip by auto and the first man he sought was Wiley. “Well, you were right!” he boomed, “Rut that doesn’t make me feel much bet- ter. It was all right to order ahead, but how about deliveries? How long can you keep us going with the supplies on hand?” Wiley leaned back in his chair. “At capacity you can run for three months,” he said calmly. ‘At our normal rate of production you could keep going without a pound of essential supplies com- ing in for five months.” “But, good Lord, man,” the president cried, “where are you going to get the raw stuff? Where are our cartons and boxes and containers coming from—not to men- tion other supplies? How about chemicals? And tins? And the thing that worries me most is fuel oil!” Wiley still smiled ‘You remember my asking you for more authority a little while back?” “Of course ldo! But that was for long- contracts it doesn't help deliveries on those contracts.” “I stretched my authority a little. Maybe I cheated, but I took the chance.” He pulled four large photographs from a drawer and laid them out. ‘ Do you recog- time nize those buildings?” “Yes—the Stone & Garrett warehouses and the one at Mission Street and the Delta. What about em?” ““We have a year's lease on these ware- houses. For almost a month I’ve been cramming stuff into them by the carload. That's where our working supplies | will come from as long as the strike lasts.’ The president dropped into a chair and wiped his forehead, Well, you do beat time!” he ex- claimed admiringly. ‘ But what would you have done if there had been no strike? You would have been stocked up with ne “On five minor lines yes— I would have been stung. But compared with the whole list my losses would have been as a bag of peanuts to a shipload of wheat. Every- thing I have in those warehouses except the five small lines I mentioned has gone up a few notches since | bought and most every- thing is still climbing. I was figuring just the other day that I could sell any time now on a rising market and net $25,000 on the deal,” The president shook his head mournfully. “You youngsters are too fast for me,”’ he complained — ‘altogether too fast! There's going to be a new president some day the directors will pick up one of you youngsters and I'll be shelved! No, you're too speedy for my time! As it turned out the strike was broken ir a few days and Wiley did sell a part of his hoarded supplies. But after a conference with the president it was decided to hold most of the materials as a sort of industrial insurance against strikes, tie-ups, disaster and delayed deliveries, and from that time forward there was always a_ sufficient amount of material on hand to prevent a impediment in production in the son, soon seThous THE SATURDAY factory. And the important thing was that not a moment was lost by the company and all its many employees went steadily on with their work at high wages when thousands of others were laid off for a few days or weeks before their employers could read- just themselves to the situation. It was after that experience that President Baker began to refer to the purchasing agent's office as “‘the heart of the plant.”” And that, as he always insisted, was exactly what it was. “Wiley keeps us going facture, raw materials, sales force and even the executive offices, he would say. ‘And when the rest of us are marking time or are held up he keeps right on storing up energy for our next spurt. His little office is the heart of the business and when he wants anything I’m going to see that he gets it.” One day at his club a big paper jobber crossed to him, holding out a hand. “T want to congratulate you on shaking us down last week, Baker,” he said laugh- ingly. “‘How was that?” the president asked guardedly. “You don’t mean to say you haven't heard of what that smart young buyer of yours did tous? It’s the talk of Paper Row.” “I’m afraid I’ve missed something,” Baker said. “Is your house in the habit of buying a hundred thousand dollars’ worth of paper without a conference on it?” the jobber asked incredulously. “We're in the habit of buying about a million dollars’ worth of goods a quarter without a conference on anything. Wiley buys for us—carte blanche. So you will have to tell me the story.” The jobber sat down. “T didn’t know that any purchasing agent in this city had that sort of authority except John Greer of Sharp Steel, Oh, I remember— your man Wiley came from Sharp, didn’t he? Well, that explains that. About the paper—the story is that the six big paper men of this territory had a meet- ing a while back and talked over prices. We didn’t fix them, you understand— just had a sort of gentlemen's agreement about throat cutting.” “T understand,” Baker said dryly. “Well, I don’t suppose you believe me, but we'll let that go. At any rate we heard that your man Wiley wanted a big lot of paper. I sent a salesman over to see him and told him to quote our best price as round $115,000. Of course the other five dealers got in with their bids in a hurry. But nothing happened. **A week went by and I sent our man up again. Heasked Wiley what had been done about the paper order and Wiley just looked him in the eye and said, ‘I can’t tell you much, Summers. But I will say this your firm is too high!’ ‘Summers tried to get him to tell him more, but Wiley closed up, The salesman came back and I began to scratch gravel. I concluded that you had got a better bid from some of the other fellows and that made me sore. I figured the job all over again and finally sent Summers back to quote your buyer a price of $100,000 for the order. Wiley shook his head. “That's still too high, Summers,’ he said. Summers asked him if that meant that someone was underbidding us and Wiley refused to talk. To make a long story short, I finally de- cided that one of our competitors was knif- ing us and I shaved clear to the bone and offered Wiley the paper for $96,000. “The deal was closed last week with the People’s Paper Mills—at a price round $92,000. Afterward I happened to meet some of the other men in the Big Six. We were all suspicious of each other, but we got to talking things over and presently we found that we had been ovtbluffed by the best poker player in the city—your man Wiley President Baker smiled. ““How do you mean, Nixon?” he asked. “I mean that Wiley had forced us into showing our hands just by standing pat. We discovered that he had taken our bids as fast as they came in and stuffed them into a drawer. He had kept his mouth shut and waited. Pretty soon our salesmen began to drop in on him one after another, and he told each of them exactly what he had told my man, Summers— ‘You're too high.” And that’s all he would say. Of course each of us thought that the others were cutting prices and each of us edged down a shade. When he had us at bedrock he took the lowest offer. And then he operation, manu- finished product, ” EVENING POST laughed at us—laughed in our faces. I sent our salesman over to ask what the game was and he came back with this message: ‘Tell Nixon that I’ve been suspecting for a year that you jobbers were in a combine = now I know it. Give the Big Six my ove!’”’ President Baker laughed heartily. “Busted you wide open!” he exclaimed. “T’ll bet you haven’t spoken to one an- other since! And it serves you right! You were busted, weren’t you? The other man nodded gloomily. “Yes,”’ heacknowledged. “The combina- tion, or gentlemen’s agreement, or what- ever you want to call it, is no more. It’s defunct, deceased, dead and buried! Each of those other fellows is sure I’m a c rook and I know all of them are—and so we've just quit playing in the same back yard. But that buyer of yours must be a wonder. If you ever get through with him, Baker, I wish you'd let me know. I'd like to have him on my payroll.” Later President Baker made an occasion to speak to Wiley about the paper deal. Wiley laughed. “Oh, I knew they were jockeying with prices somewhere,” he said. ‘The raw- material market, as I get it from trade journals and other sources, has been fluc- tuating a good deal; but the prices these road agents were asking were too uniform. That made me suspicious and I laid for them. I’m glad they smashed.” The president agreed. ‘But won't this incident make hard feel- ings among the paper salesmen?” he asked. “Will they ever forgive you?” “Why not?” Wiley demanded promptly. “T’m buying paper and they are trying to sell it. I didn’t deceive them, even by implication. The trouble with ‘them was that they were in a crooked deal and their consciences hurt and they suspected one another. As a matter of fact, I've made two stanch friends—the salesman I finall bought from and who had never had such a big order in his life before, and Mr. Nixon’s salesman, Summers, because Summers hated the combination and was being kept out of some of his best business by it. Don’t worry about paper, Mr. Baker—we'’ve got them eating out of our hands now!” “You talked to me once about your buy- ing methods, Wiley,” the president said. “Tell me what your experience has been lately. I'm interested.” Wiley thought a minute. “There has been some change in the last year or two,” he said then. ‘‘Salesmen are getting easier to handle—more reasonable and businesslike and less shrewd and smart. They know me and my ways now. They know my three hard-and-fast rules.” “What are those?” “One is—give me your best price first. Only in exceptional cases, like that of the paper deal, will [ buy from a man who tries me out with a high price and then allows himself to be beaten down.” “I see. But don’t they take advantage of that rule to hold you up?” “Not more than once. I've been trimmed once or twice, but the men who did the trimming don’t come back for more busi- ness. And one sale doesn’t make a sales- man.” “There’s something in that. Go on.” “Rule two—if you sell me poor goods or fool me on price or quantity or deliveries don’t come back into the office.” “That’s a good one—if they respect it.” “They do. I'll tell you a story about that in a minute—about soda ash. My third rule is—if you want me for a steady customer convince me that you are a de- pendable source of supply.” “What does that mean—exactly?” “This: Every purchasing agent has an ideal—to find sources of supply on which he can depend year in and year out, un- failingly and without interruption or trouble. By that I do not mean only a source of supply that gives us good goods at fair prices; I mean a source that has the organization and machinery and reputa- tion and a tradition that will keep it being dependable continuously. Of course I'm a talking about an ideal condition, be- cause the biggest and strongest concern in the world will have its dependability inter- rupted once in a while by strikes, transpor- tation troubles, a shortage of raw materials, or something that no human agency can foresee or prevent. Nevertheless there are a large number of big concerns—and an increasingly large number of smaller ones— that depend for their success and standing on keeping the supply coming steadily. November 29, 1919 That's the first thing the purchasing agent asks about. “There is another factor that enters into dependability of supply source. Of course there is fair dealing and good faith—but the thing that is often overlooked is intelli- gent business. For instance, there is a certain national corporation handling goods that we need. On one item—something like fifty thousand dollars’ worth a year for us—IL have never been able to buy a pound from them. That is because what they are offering me is very close to what I want in- stead of exactly what I want. I’ve looked the matter up and talked it over with en- gineers and they say that the big com- pany could make a slight change in their mixture and meet my specifications with- out a dollar’s expense. Do they do it? They do not! They have been trying ever since I've been here to sell me, not by doing what I want them to do but by arguing me out of my position. They have had more experts and smooth salesmen up _ here for that purpose than I could give time to. They are just determined to convince me that I don’t know what I want. That doesn't go. I happen to know what I want, and why, and I’ve demonstrated that I can get the commodity and that it does all I de- mand of it. And yet my friends of the big company are still arguing. So far they've failed to get anywhere and they are going to continue to fail as long as I keep my health.” “But you buy other goods from them?” “No, that’s the point. In many lines they have what I want. But I don’t con- sider them a dependable source of supply for anything—because they are an unin- telligent source. Consequently I am preju- diced against all their goods.” The president grunted. ‘‘What was it you were going to tell about the salesman who violated your second rule?” “Oh—if you double-cross me don’t come back for more business? That was French with his soda ash. Last July I bought a small order of soda ash from French of the Awon Chemical Company. Two months later French came in and urged me to take on a large contract. He said the price was going up and that I had better get in while I could. The price he named was three cents a pound on five hundred barrels. “I objected that I didn’t want that much ash—that all I cared to sign up for was enough to carry me to the first of the year. “*That's all right,’ French said, ‘you take what you want under this contract ay we'll take off your hands any you have eft.’ “I took him at his word and when the first of the year came round [ still had about ninety barrels of soda ash coming to me under the contract from the Awon people. I wrote them, reminding them of French’s promise and telling them that I wanted the contract canceled. My reason was that the market had broken in the meantime and I could buy cheaper soda ash. The Awon flatly repudiated French's agreement, so I took my extra soda ash, paid up and shut up.” “What happened then?” ‘*What happened in connection with my rule is that French came in shortly after- ward with a dandy price on chemicals that we needed, but I wouldn’t even listen to him. “He couldn’t understand me. ‘Do you mean to say you'd hold a grudge over a little thing like a hundred barrels of soda ash?’ he asked me. ““*No, French,’ I said, ‘life is too short to hold a grudge over soda ash in any amount at any price. But a grudge is a cheap bargain for me if it reminds me that a man or a company thinks more of a little thing like a hundred barrels of soda ash than it thinks of its own word.’ “French didn t have another remark to make on the subject. As it happens, that wasn't the end of the incident either.” ‘“What happened?” the president asked. ‘**T put my extra soda ash in storage and within a few weeks the market took a sud- den upward slant. I happened to hear at the Purchasing Agents’ Association rooms one day that Morton of the Tinker Cannery Company wanted soda ash. I told him that I might spare him a hundred barrels if he would let me know the best price he could get from the salesmen. A day or so later he called up to say that French was offering him what he needed at three- twenty. “sold Morton at three-ten, which shaved the market close, and French is still wonder- ing what hit him. Some day I'l] tell him.”

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in A eee HI } ‘ h j i | i # 1 | | 1 iW { ’ ’ \ | { | ; } i i i ratios - anil THE SATURDAY EVENING POST 59 HE need of business today—and for years to come—is greater production. With world necessities greater than at any time in history—with man power depleted as never before—Machinery must come to the rescue—must do more and more of the work hitherto performed by human hands. Over 100,000 of the leading manufacturing plants of the world depend upon ‘‘Clipper’’ Belt Lacing to keep the wheels of production constantly in motion. The speediest possible belt lacing service is now more than ever imperative. Che Clipper Belt Lacer | Laces a Belt in Three Minutes The “Clipper” makes a joint that is smooth, dependable, safe, and one that lasts as ong as the belt itself. “Clipper” laced belts hug the pull Any shop workman can use the “Clipper” the instant a break occurs, without waiting for expert help. Its cost is slight and its saving beyond calculation “a, TRE va: . . ev and develop maximum power Te all L £ , ; : : : + pe Many manufacturers make their belt lacing service 100°) efficient by keeping 4 “Clipper” lacers in various parts of their plants. my The “Clipper” is the solver of belt lacing problems. Tt goes to Manufacturers for a tree trial in their own plants, and ts backed by a perp tual guarante “Clipper” distr bution . world “ le thr wh mill suppl house De Lier tt t wi representation has not been arranged will tind the “Chipper” proj t rofitat - \L OF TER, OO LACING IN wO.3 —— 6 IN “Clipper” hooks are made from steel Clipper”’ hooks are pr into wire of great tensile strength. Actual he belt as show / tests have praved that each hook will ma t stand a pulling strain of 60 pounds, a equal to over 400 pounds per inch of N } ray i ; belt. There are jive S1ZeS.

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60 ‘*T mean opportunities, openings, chances to do better for myself than I’ve ever dreamed of doing before. Oh, I’ve got ns in a fire, don’t you worry! Inci- dentally,”” he added with marked gratifica- mn, “the thing I’m thinking about, the ne I think I'll take, will bring me right here to live in little old New York my His eyes beamed upon her. She thrilled with his news “Oh, Russell, that was makes me happy!

You don’t know how much I've thought ibout that wondere “d if it was going to be hard for you to ‘Not on your life! It’s one of the easiest things I do nowaday Why, Fanny, I’m %t quite the callow youth, without in- fluence or position and never knowing where his next dollar was coming from, that told you good-by in 1917 Things have happened to me You'll see!” nd then, leaning forward under the eye of hovering said movingly in a hanged tone: ‘“‘ How would —wouldn’t you like to live in New York?” ‘I? My dear! It’s something I’ve never thought of.” waiters, he “I’m asking you to think of it now. Fanny, you haven't forgotten the last con- versation we had before I went away?” Coloring, she answered lightly with some loss of fuse ‘*‘Women have long memories for son things, they say. Never breathe a word to them that you aren't prepared to stick to! jut now your iro! I'm simply dying to hear about sin the fire and how you got them and ever ything! He accepted the gentle postponement; glanced at his wrist watch, cautioned t! waiter to show more celerity and went on with happy absorption ‘Well, you see, it was bull luck from my standpoint, Fanny, because I hadn’t pulled any wires, but just went where they sent me-— but the 300th was full of the most wonderful fellows Everybody used to comment on it. Sons of some of the biggest men in the United States were my me mates-— Sterter, Bradford, Fielding, Honey kamp and so on-— and everyone a prince W hy, I was about the only officer in the ! regiment that had less than a million dol- a it’s a fact! ‘Well, naturally we all got thicker than thieves before we were through and, of ourse, it was an awfully good thing a broadening thing—for me I'd simply had the chance to associate with men evel like that vefore, the life I'd led in Cale- onia, and | tell you it was like opening up i new world! And yet at the same time, Fanny, it was like finding myself too. I think you understand what I’m trying to ay. And then when | was banged up and got the ribbon-- well it looked as if people couldn't do enough for me It certainly was gratifying the way all my friends stood by me and came right up to the scratch, But the thing that attracts me most—-the proposition | was speaking of —comes from Tom Bradford, who's one of the best friends I've got He’ - “Oh, Lremember Tom Bradford! You've often mentioned him in your letters.” ‘Well, you know who he is then— only son of old Joshua himself and a perfectly wonderful fellow. Incidentally Tom has a wad of his own from his grandmother she was a Hardcastle from Butte. Well, Tom was in my company through it all from the camp days and we took a shine to each other from the start. He and I us sed to Well, for crime’s sake! If there isn't General Wattrou Lock, Fanny!” His stare directed attention to an elderly officer, who with a party of women was just being seated at a flower-decorated table some distance away. Very short in stature this eye-catching son of Mars could hardly have tipped the beam at less than two hundred pounds. His figure was a hogs- head's, his walk a waddle and he had a face that reminded Fanny of nothing so much as a gargoyle painted red. Nor was his case helped in contrast by the fact that the three women who accompanied him were all young, tall and beautiful Russell, I never saw such a little Gila monster!” Captain March, putting down his nap- kin, looked mildly shocked “Sh! Why, that’s the great Wattrous! That's G-20! They call him the brains of the Army.” “Well, I'm glad to know he has brains! THE SATURDAY EVENING POST BIG PEOPLE (Continued from Page 5 But the young man said: “I must pay my respects, Fanny—excuse me a minute. I know the old boy personally.” And he went away among the gleaming tables, limping badly without his stick, yet by no means robbed of his lean young grace. Many eyes followed him besides her own. Fanny watched her soldier come smartly to attention at the elbow of his general. It was noted that the obese hero was in no haste to recognize his caller. When at last he glanced up from the menu he was study- ing his face wore a visible scowl, which was not observed to soften as the little pig-eyes rested upon Russell. Plain as day that look said over the spaces: “‘ What the devil do you mean by speaking to Me?” Apparently Russell, handsome and smil- ing, had to recall himself to the brains of the Army and apparently it took time. At length the old gargoyle was seen to nod a time or two and his look lightened a little or rather his air of utter loathing relaxed by a mere trifle. Fanny considered that Russell should aa have turned on his heel with the coldest dignity. On the contrary he stood there, soldierly and respectful but quite at ease, for several minutes, making a series of obviously amiable remarks in which by polite glances he seemed to in- clude the ladies of the party —to whom he had not been introduced. The general ap- peared to respond to these civilities almost <clusively by jerking motions of his close- aven poll. His attention remained with morning coat who was order. officer was not unfamiliar with the ways and manners of military caste, Still when Russell came back to her, having withdrawn from his respects with unruffled ease and perfect bows, she could not forbear to say, “I never saw anything that little monstrosity in my 2} the official in a receiving the noble The chief petty as rude as life!” Russell laughed unaffectedly, and yet it was clear that her point of view surprised him too couldn't be ‘Why, Fanny, that man rude to me if he tried. I once heard a colonel say that to be kicked by Old Watty was an honor.” ‘I don't care! I think he’s horrid!” ‘He's got a right to be! What he says goes along the Front, let me tell you. Why, you know how it is in the Army, Fanny! The younger men all plume themselves if they have even a speaking acquaintance with any of the general officers, the really big men. It’s considered an honor to say how-de-do to them — and incidentally it helps you sometimes, you bet! Asa matter of fact, by a stroke of luck I was able to do General Wattrous a mighty good turn once ad “Oh, were you? He nodded with a full mouth. “Found a bed for him one snowy night when his car broke down and when you might say there wasn't any bed. Just back of Dégremont, it was. He remembered about it just as soon as I reminded him of it.” ‘Degremont? Wasn't that where you first went into the line, Russell?” “It was that—just out the night I met Old Watty. Brigaded for three weeks with the British in what they called a quiet sector. Whew!" Fanny prompted fearfully, and yet eag- erly too: “Was it so—so very bad? ‘ll say it was!” said Russell, and laughed. ‘ Half an hour after we got in the first night my company was gassed all to pieces. Evacuated twenty-two men before morning. Second night the boches pulled a fierce raid to get acquainted—killed seven ind grabbed four. Third night they bom- irded an . charged us three times. Fourth ight they gave us large-caliber shells right aon may dark to dawn. That's where Fritz Honeykamp got it, poor chap. Lying right next to me in the dugout, he was head blown right off his shoulders. Jimmy Sterter got a nasty slash that night too. By the way, Bill Jaspar told me that Jimmy’s in town with his new wife. I was sort of hoping we might run into them here or somewhere—I'd certainly like you to meet him. He's Sterter Steel, you know—a regular prince and one of my best friends. Rush along the dessert, waiter. My time’s short.” Fanny splendid

9, thought his matter-of-factness , and was ready to hear more; nay, she thirsted to hear more. But the talk inevitably slanted into more personal fields and flowed discursively. Bolting his arti- choke to make up for lost time, Russell presently recaptured the thread where Gen- eral Wattrous had broken it. “It was this way, Fanny—you'll be so interested: You know, they gave me four days’ leave last month as soon as I began to hobble round. Well, I have a little influence in the right places, the boys say—my op- portunities were pretty good, you see, and I didn’t neglect them—so I arranged for Tom Bradford to get leave at the same time. He and I and Harry Brooks went up to Paris together and I'll admit we had a time! Well, you see, Tom would never have had the nerve even to ask for leave, he’s had so much, and so he felt awfully grateful to me. Insisted on paying all ex- penses — wouldn't let me buy a newspaper and that’s another reason I’m so flush to-day! “Well, one night we got to talking about the future and the boys asked me what I was going to do, I told them I had several irons in the fire—from Jimmy Sterter and Johnson Fielding, for instance—but noth- ing absolutely definite had materialized so far, so I didn’t know. Check, waiter! And then Tom spoke up and said, just as if it wassomething we'd often discussed: ‘That's all settled, Russ. You're coming with Bradford and Vermilye in New York. "My old man will fix you up. You leave it to me.’ Tell the truth, I had sort of looked for something of the sort and maybe had thrown out a feeler or two, but I hadn't expected it and you could have knocked me down with a salted almond. “Well then, Fanny, I asked him frankly what kind of position he had in mind, and he said, with my record as a soldier and my bad leg, I had a right to expect something pretty good. Said trust him for that —said he’d write to his father as soon as he got back to billets. Think, Fanny! Bradford and Vermilye!”’ “It’s glorious!” “Check, waiter! Yes—right away! And you expected me to go to counting pay rolls again in Caledonia!” The luncheon was over; they must hurry on upon the soldier's lively schedule. Draw- ing on her gloves and glancing over the glittering scene, Fanny thought of Was! ington and reflected that this first leave together was all too short. She also sud- denly surprised the dim thought floating somewhere by: “Goodness, what a lot of social activity there is in the Army! I'd no idea!” But she brushed away that fancy as somehow vaguely disloyal. “What are we going to see, Russell?” “Best musical show in town. Almost impossible to get in. Bill Jaspar had to bribe the agency to find me tickets.” The check came on wings. Inadvertently catching sight of the red-ink notation scrawled in strange, Frenchy, hardly legible figures as it was—Fanny was mildly stag- gered. The host for his part disdained to glance at the items. On the contrary he won actual gratitude from the blasé waiter and rewarded the codperating captain with a second bank note, saying carelessly, “Everything was very nice.”” Then at her round gaze he added gaily: “It pays, Fanny. Remember, I expect to live in this town. Next time that fel- low'll know me. We'll take a taxi.” She had been conscious of grudging to the theater solid hours that might have been spent in a hansom cab or on a bus top or even in the hotel library —just talking and talking. But this, of course, was Rus- sell’s day and she was happy in his good pleasure. The best musical show had run to packed houses all summer and seemed good for another year or two at least. Its title was, Gh, Maria, Why Did You Kiss Him? and to its composition nine musicians, lyricists and librettists had contributed their hard technique. Moreover the story to begin with—so the program said —had been ‘‘adapted from the French of Philippe Novére.”’ The cast included six beautiful show girls, thirty-two not quite so beautiful damsels of the chorus and twelve chorines for whom beauty would scarcely have been claimed by their own mothers. It also had a prima donna with a piano limb and aa interestingly mobile diaphragm, and a co- median who relied largely on humorous November 29, 1/919 paint and facial exploits for his fascination, and demonstrated his success by saluting all the show girls twice in each act. Only this morning Fanny had feared to find her soldier over-sobered and saddened; she saw him now in the highest spirits. He was boyishly pleased by everything; the damsels delighted him; even the chorines, in the act in which four of them danced together, drew a word of cordial praise. His infectious laughter rang through the place. At one point—the scene in which the co- median, intoxicated upon a patent medicine, mistakes the prime minister for a donkey and tries to ride him into the women’s quarters of the palace—he became so con- vulsed that the great actor himself noticed it and remarked to the conductor: ‘ Don’t make me laugh like that, doc. My mother- in-law is alive and hearty.” In the darkened house the girl looked often at his merry bronzed face. Her heart warmed to him. The last intermission proving a long one, conversation about other matters than the play became possible. Eager to have him understand everything, to catch up fully on these fifteen months, Fanny turned the talk upon herself, supplying neglected de- tails of her life and work in Washington; of the office routine and Mr. Charles; of her scorn of men who had chosen desk work and kept happy; of the boarding house and the lonesome evenings and the girls in the house, fellow war workers, some of whom went to lengths to escape that lonesome- of Harold Barstow from home in the Administration, a nice man—though stupid —who usually ‘‘took her out” on Sunday afternoons. And Captain March listened to everything with unaffected interest. “You'll laugh, Russell, but I’m really doing more and more responsible work all the time. It makes me feel sometimes almost as if I were helping a little. That keeps one up. And personally, of course, the whole experience has been a wonderful one for me. I feel—it seems to me—that I must have gained a lot from it. And then ——”’ “Just how do you mean, Fanny? “Well,” said she, little embarrassed, “‘vou see, I'd never worked before, done anything real; never even thought or felt very much in a—-a grown-up way; neve! had any experience at all. I think I've learned a lot and may be grown a little wiser. Anyway—for better or worse —I sometimes feel that I’m simply not at all the same person I was two years ago.” He looked so unsettled at that, as if-he sensed a personal implication somewhere that she explained at once gently: * Just as you can never be quite the same, Russell dear, or anybody who has really been through it —if only in their feelings.” “Oh! I see! Yes, you're right there. I know I've changed a lot. I look back sometimes — A wild blare from the orchestra an- nouncing the opening ensemble for the act drowned out his words. When the curtain fell again, terminating Maria, Fanny noted with a start that it was five o'clock. Russell's train left at ten-twenty-five. He expected other leaves; in fact once his hos- pital connection was established and his knee duly reéxamined and docketed—for the wounds from the operation had never yet healed—he hoped to find himself free to come and go pretty much as he wished. But their time of remeeting, which she had anticipated with so peculiar a poignancy, was fast running out, and she was troubled with vague dissatisfactions. And then as her thought jumped forward to the quiet téte-a-téte over the tea table, when at last Russell would really begin to talk to her, there came a new digression and an unlucky one. Emerging into the jam and jostle of the lobby, they ran full into a fellow officer of Russell’s, a stout young man with a simple red countenance and notable vocal cords, who cried aloud with starting eyes: “Jumping Judas! Ethel, Rusty March!” Fanny’s heart instantly sank. Curiously enough, just such a contingency had flitted across her mind at the lunch table. She knew who this officer and Ethel were with- out introductions—none other than Jimmy Sterter of Sterter Steel and his expensive- looking young wife—married, Fanny soon (Continued on Page 63) ness; Fuel here’s

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(Continued from Page 60) learned, since Lieutenant Sterter’s return, invalided, in October. The two officers, who had not met since spring, were obviously delighted to see each other. It was only too clear that they would not separate easily. After the first burst of ‘When did you get over?” “‘How much leave you got?” “Where're you staying here?”’ the inevitable question fol- lowed: ‘‘What’re you ym 1g now?” Lieu- tenant Sterter, having put the query, answered it himself, as it were: ‘‘ Trotting on to the Biltmore for tea. You come right along!” ““No, we’re going to the Plaza,” laughed Russell with a glance at Fanny. But he was obliged to add: ‘‘Why don’t you come with us?” **“Can’t be done—asked you first! You'll do us the favor, won't —~ Miss Hardy? Course you will—make her, Ethel.”” The intriguing-looking girl stated briefly: ‘Oh, surely, you will join us,”’ while Mr. Sterter was heard to chuckle to Russell aside: “Better not say no, old cockalorum! Got something werry good for you upstairs.” It was so settled, of course. The four young people bowled away together in a taxi, which— it seemed — the prodigal Ster- ters kept chartered by the day. The best that Fanny could say for the improvised square party that followed was that it didn’t last very long. Oddly the attitude of the others seemed to be somehow the same— as if this were generally recog- nized as but the necessary dull interlude amid much merrier possibilities They sat at a table too small for them in a room which—though large—was too small for the people packed into it, and sipped tea which nobody wanted. For inevitably they took tea in the literal sense; the uniforms eliminated choice and chance, and Jimmy Sterter cast constant sheep's eyes at more exciting petables beckoning on every hand. However, hope lurked indefinably in his limpid black eyes; doubt- ws his inner eye was turned upstairs. To Fanny he seemed an open and sanguine young man, jolly enough, though faintly inclined to overbearingness when argued with. The new wife roused reflections of a different sort. She was a warm sleek crea- ture, all done in browns—skin, eyes, hair, costume—and her manner was marked by a strange languid insolence sugi gesting con- fidence in a charm, which in fact she did mysteriously exude. To Fanny’s common places she responded monosyllabically, if at all The two men had the conversation vir- tually to themselves. It consisted chiefly of gay reminiscence, of brother officers and of times they had had separately and together in France. Despite her pleasure in Rus- sell’s enjoyment of the reunion, Fanny was not sorry when the moment came for guests to take their leave. The Sterters indicated the moment, by unmistakable signs. Russell walked with her to the elevator. It had been agreed that she should have an hour to rest before dinner, and now he im- pressed it upon her ardently not to take a minute longer. ‘I hate to give you up for a whole hour especially as we’ve had to share our time. Don’t forget now—seven o’c wong *k exactly! I'll he standing right there by that palm tree, Fanny smiled and promised, and the lift hot her away upward. She had meant to pend half of the rest hour in dressing, half > writing to her mother—no less—giving news on the spot, as it were, of Russell's arrival and her own exploit in journeying to meet him. Once in her own small eyrie, however, and the door shut, the girl became conscious of an unwonted lassitude. Hav- ing partly undressed, she stretched herself on the bed for just a minute—with the not infrequent result. When she woke, with a sharp start, it was quarter of seven. She bathed hurriedly, changed into the ‘little’ evening dressshe had brought along for this dinner and descended at speed, sweet apologies on her lip. However, Rus- sell was not at the meeting place. There seemed to be thousands of people in the lively foyer, but the tall figure of her war- rior was nowhere among them. Then in a minute or two she descried him hurrying from the direction of the elevators. From afar she saw that his pleasant face bore open signs of trouble. ‘ Awfully sorry, Fanny—awfully! I can’t tell you! I just could not get away. The Sterters simply hung round my neck.” “Tt’s all right, Russell. too.” I was very late THE SATURDAY **But here’s the devil of it: The Sterters insist on our dining with them. Just wouldn’t hear of anything else, I —— “Oh!” She must have looked very blank at these tidings, for his face took on an access of worriment which immediately softened her. “I mind it more than you do—I’ll bet on that! It simply knocks our day, that’s all—it’s a nuisance! But, Fanny, what’re you going to do? I refused a dozen times point-blank, but it didn’t have the least effect. I never saw people so insistent.” Laughing down—not easily—her sense of all but childish disappointment, Fanny became the comforter **Why, I think it’ll be ve ry nice, Russell. He’s so—so jolly. And we'll still have a little time afterward—and more, let’s hope, later on when you're out of the hos- pital.” Russell said gratefully: ‘‘ You’re a brick, Fanny. Nobody could be sweeter. . . . Of course I don’t want to offend Jim. He can help me in lots of ways—has helped me in fact. His people own about all of Herki- mer, Pennsylvania. They'll be down in a minute.” They found seats in the small alcove which makes an inlet in thronging lobby and sat down to wait. Undoubtedly Russell was conscious that the Sterters had rather overborne him and that Fanny so understood it. Possibly also there was in his mind her attitude of affectionate dis- paragement in years gone by —that attitude which—beyond his knowledge —she had so recently deplored to Mr. Wollaston. Having briefly described his visit in the Sterters’ sitting room, he was impelled to expli iin himself a little further: ‘Jim’s a wonderful fellow really. But for the fact that we simply haven't got the time to-day I'd be glad of the chance for you to see something of him. You ought to see the fuss they made over him on the other side—whew! Colonels, generals, dis- tinguished visitors, big people in Paris I tell you everybody was tickled to say they knew Jim Sterter. And still you know, Fanny — well, when it came to getting some- thing you wanted—to putting a thing I don’t consider .- “ had any thing on me, if I do say it. In fact—well, you see Jim’s got a little aap with him at times that people don’t like. He's a little quarrelsome —sort of truculent, you might call it—especially if he’s had a drop too much, and that offends a good many peo ple. I think I can honestly say that while I know most everybody I haven't got a single enemy inthe Army. After all, it was I and not Jimmy who was going to be put on the divisional staff. And that was my own oo “On the sti aff? — that! Captain March said with an air of mingled feelings: ‘“‘I was keeping it as a surprise. Of course—it didn’t come off, First I got sent down with this broken knee and then the blooming war ended on me, But I’ve good reason to think it was prac tically settled. Colonel Enright was pull- ing hard for it. He said that while he'd be sorry to lose me I had exactly the right qui alific ations sg ‘And would you have liked that on the staff?” “I should say so! No more trenches! Like it? Why, I consider it about the softest thing there is in the Army. And besides there’s the association with the higher officers—the big men, the picked minds of the Army. Why, socially you're simply in another class!" He told at some length of his meeting with Capt. Sir Eric Parmlee in the town of Bailleul, and of a good deal that Sir Erie, himself a staff officer, had said on this point. And gradually, as he talked on, the girl’s gaze upon his unconscious face be- came marked by a curious fixity, at once scarchiais and introspective; and her hid- den thought turned backward. All at once she had remembered vividly some large words she had used one day in the office of a personage. She became aware that she regretted those phrases. It was clear that she had been rhetorical, overemotional that day, and the memory embarrassed her. Precisely at that moment Russell —havy- ing caught the sudden strains of the dining- room orchestra—touched her abruptly and profoundly by interjecting in his anecdote: “There's Smiles again, Fanny! Gad, I'd like to trip the light fantastic once more!” Her heart fluttered within her. The Sterters did not come down in a minute—or several minutes. In the end acToss Why, I hadn't heard being EVENING POST Russell had to go up for them. It was after eight when the four young people sat down to dinner. To one member of the quartet that meal seemed to pass in a kind of cloud. Table talk was copious and lively enough in all conscience, but seldom indeed was it of the sort that you could remember and take home with you, as it were. etleas once naturally continued to be the prevailing note; only among the recurring names of officers other names—names feminine and Frenchy—began to drop from the lips of Jimmy Sterter, vastly to the interest of his young wife, whom Fanny—womanlike had early conceived as having a deteriorat- ing effect upon the whole conversation. Mrs. Sterter still talked exclusively to the men—she had learned to call Russell by his name upstairs, it seemed—but she talked much more than at the tea table. She spoke chiefly in French and her running observa- tions, rarely more than a sentence in le ngth, drew frequent guffaws from her spouse, in which Russell readily joined. She herself produced an odd staccato laugh like a rather pretty bark, which attracted some atten- tion from neighboring tables. Asfor Jimmy, his rubicund countenance seemed rosier than ever, his manner more jocund. But he was quite severe with the Slovene waiter, whom he addressed as Peanuts, and re- vealed a desire to talk continuously. Even Russell, after his second ascent to the sitting room, seemed somewhat freer of tongue, He told the Sterters about Tom Bradford and Bradford and Vermilye, and Jimmy Sterter’s interruption was: “Point is, was he sober at the time? Bet you a dinner at Maxim's he’s forgot he ever said it.” “Well, I'll admit he was a bit spiffy,” laughed Russell. ‘‘We were in Paris, re- member—but he won't forget it, not if I know it! In fact I happened to be writing to him on the boat about another matter and I P: “What do you care if the rotter bacl out?) Jumping Judas! You come to me! I'll attend to you—fix you up sor »mething be ‘tte r’n you ever had in your life “T'm listening, Jimmy + Who knows but I may call on you? “That's right, Fanny—Miss Hardy, I mean,” said Jimmy, turning to her with immense gravity and reassurance. ‘Don't you worry for a minute. nee Judas! Rusty March's my friend—my very good friend! I'll never let him lack for ; a job no, sir, not as long’s my grandfather stands there and waves. D’ you get my figure? Comparing my grandfather to The Star Spangled Banner—understand?”’ ‘I got your figure instantly And a ver) ingenious one it is too, in my opinion.” ‘Think so? Shoo! I think up those little things all the time. No trouble to me — it’ a gift. Say, you seen this show the missu and I’re going to to-night?” “Probably not. I've seen very little And I don't know what you're going to.” ‘It’s called Combien, Yvonne Name suggest anything to you? Hey?’ ‘It doesn’t seem to at the moment.” “Ho, ho! Just what I thought. The sly rascal’s keeping things back from you. I'll make him come through—don't you worry! Listen tohim! Bet he’s telling Ethel about the time he lunched at the emba what'd I tell you? Here, Rusty, you dog, what do you mean not telling Fan— Miss Hardy here—about Mademoiselle Yvonne? Come on now! Come through right on uncle’s knee! Feel better when it's off your chest.” The episode was typical. Allusion this time was to a Mademoiselle Dufrance, a: irl of excellent family in Ségneville, who, ‘t seemed, had been kind to Russell when he was in hospital the first time —‘‘as she was to everybody,” he explained with @ par- donable air of annoyance at having to explain at all. Jimmy, however, noisily in- sisted upon a peccadillo and in this he had the loyal support of his wife, who said in sum: “Tell me all, Russell—I was never shocked yet.” “How about that hot letter she wrote you afterward?” insisted Jimmy. “You know darned well what I mean—meal baissays!"’ And finally, disgusted with/his inability to get a successful rise, he said something sotto voce to Ethel in French which threw that amazing young person she was just nineteen, it seemed—into a fit of strange merriment. Halfway through the banquet, talk did turn for a moment from the personal to the general. Russell, telling the Sterters about

63 his last leave in Paris and the people he had met there, happened te mention John Ames Fordyce—from his own home state Fanny, who had known and admired the famous publicist as long as she could member, was interested at once. ‘But I thought he was in Russia.” “Just back from there-—got to Paris the day before | saw him. Seems he'd got some sort of appointment with the big conference they're going to have there aut id “The Peace Conference? Vh, I’m so glad!” “Ves yes. He just iid the conference but that must be the one. Said we had our work cut out for us to see that we got what we'd been fighting for I member tha Gave us a lot of inside information on the whole situation. This is Dr. Ames Fordyce I'm speakir g of, Ethel probably the great est living newspaper editor; one of the biggest men in the country. I've known him ever since I was born—great chum of my father’s. We ran into him in the Place de |'¢ Jpera is At the first opportunity Fanny said eagerly: “‘ How interesting, Russell! What else did he tell you—about the peace, | mean?” “Well, let’s see. He said he was afraid some of our Allies weren't converted . think that was the word he used—-and wer going to try to grab everything they could Said everything depended on th President standing up for our ideals— otherwise we were in for a lot more wars. That’s about the gist of what he said, as | remember Lots of big people were stopping to speal to him at the time, and tell the truth I didn't listen as hard as I might. As a sol dier, I suppose I don’t take much stock in the talking end of the game. Well, Harry Brooks told him a story - The eyes of the Sterters had begun to wander, but here young Jimmy bounded noisily back into the conver ‘Right oe are, Rusty! ‘T sick. Talk "bout ideals makes me sick. Ugh, ugh!” Fanny retorted warmly:

ation:

ilk makes me specially But isn’t talk ing about ideals absolutely necessary just now—in fact the most necessary and im portant thing in the world? You soldier who fought to accomplish certain you more than anybody else are et titled 24 ‘What thing , Fanny— Miss Hardy thir vr you talking about

I mean? Jumping Judas! Don't you know what we fought for? Well, I'll tell you. We fought to lick the Germans, and by God, we did it!” As if ple ased by the citation of the Deity Ethel beat the table with small hands, er ing: ‘‘Hear, hear! Three rousing cheer ¢ for my Jimmy ‘But licking the Germans won't help very much unle we su

Now listen! aid Jimm * Lister while I tell you! A l this talk about making the world alt vr democracy ind beir weet to small natior ind all that is good enough for bringing sentimental lacker into the war and selling Liberty Bond » but t never touched the fighting man. No, sit What holds the fighting man is the pertia end to the busine that he yong to beat up those wine so bad the can never look him in the face agair That's some thing to bite or don't you understand? That keys a fellow up in the zero hour when chinnin’ about ideals wouldn't help hin more than a gla of buttermill No ir! ‘Take it yes me—that gulf just fo writing chaps and the fellows <a just sit round an Ithink whil the oldiers’t re saving humanity Russell, who had been nodding his heac up and down, now said: “ Hear, hear! And I guess that's about right too.”’ Surprised and somehow really chagrined, the girl addressed herself to him, in a changed tone: “Of course I understand, Russell, that a soldier needs eve ry help he can tind just for getting throug! Sut after it's over and the war is wor Just think of what Doctor Fordyce said—more wars unless this one’ settled right. You certainly don’t want to go through all this again ‘Ha, ha! We should worry laughed Jimmy. ‘Don't you fret, Fanny! It'll be the other fellow’ Russell said: ‘‘Far as I'm concerned for one thing, the Army doesn’t want crip ples. Looks as though I've given about al I've got to give. Why, Colonel Enright said to me oy *Don'tyou fret, Fanny,’ triumphantly. ‘ Continued on Page 65 ibout that!’

sturn next time!

‘repeated Jimmy “Rusty and I’ve talked thi

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Continued from Page 63 thing all over. We've done our bit —and we don't want to hear anything more about: the war long as we live. Just going to give ourselves up to enjoying the pleasures of life--and by gad, other people think we’ve earned it, if you don’t! Lemme tell you little anecdote to illustrate.” ’ Russell was here detached by Ethel for talk of another sort. Jimmy, continuing his remarks in the general tone of a victorious debater, did nothing to charm away the sense of indignation he had unwittingly roused in the breast of Fanny Hardy; or the contrary he managed to increase it markedly. Struc k by the repetition of the name, she asked presently, with no special inimation, who Colonel Enright was. limmy’s more than pink features regis- tered surprise “Look here, old Rusty don’t seem to’ve kept you advised about things at all! Why, Enright’s our regimental commander brother-in-law of Mrs. Hickson Smith, as Rusty would say. He’s the fellow that got Rusty his cross. You ought to know Er ight. Must arrange to have you meet him some day Maki: gno effort to conceal her astonish ment and distaste, the girl said: ‘Got Rus- ell hi What on earth do you mean? | suppo ed that Russell got that 7 eens what ae “Sure he did, Fanny! Everybody knows that. Point is, you see, lots of fellows deserve crosses by what they do, but every body can’t get ’em, don’t you understand? Or Jumping Judas— they wouldn't be any honor! So a little friendly word from the at the right moment —helps a fellow like the devil. Get the idea? And old Rusty always stood in with “i ‘But his colonel, the head of the regi- would hardly have chosen " dh, don’t plague the men any more about the war, Miss Hardy!” said young Ethel’s finished voice. ‘* You're spoiling the fun! Jimmy, I'm going to tell Ri isty mM) new funny Story do you dare me? Only I'll tell it in French, Miss H: ird . for it n’t the least little bit jeune fille ' cross! right quarter ment, “-. It was quarter past nine when the Ster- ters left the table for the theater. “‘I adore missing the first few acts,’’ noted Ethel bonnily, as they rose. rrangements were completed for an early remeeting with Russell, which occasion-— Jimmy all—_would be ‘“‘a time.” The ultimate departure in the chartered taxi was attended with some boisterous ness And Jimmy gave the doorman a couple of dollars and called him Peanuts too Captain March and Fanny stood in the lower foyer by the revolving doors. In the moment of their restored privacy they re garded each other. His face looked faintly fatigued, she thought, but still there was a light in his eyes. And something deep within the girl seemed determined that he hould be the first to speak. ell,” id Russell, laughing. “I’m glad you and Jimmy didn’t come to blows! You had me pretty nearly nervous there for a minute— he’s so touchy at times. But isn't he a prince, Fanny? And she’s what I call the real thing.” All hope died then in Fanny’s heart of getting anything out of the ruined day. Her look went away from him and she iid in a let-down way: “Is there still time for a drive, do you think? Or shall we just sit here till a He said that by all means they should have their drive—there was still an hour. Resuming their interrupted schedule, the young pair pushed through the circling doors hardly a minute behind the Sterters. The drive was through the shadowy park to One Hundred and Tenth Street and back to the station at Thirty-second. The night, starry and singularly mild for January, was propitious; the cab gave a sec lusion such as they had not enjoyed before that day. Russell’s conception of the moment was clearly loverly. However, the girl proved unresponsive, though in a gentle way too casual to rouse remark. It was easy to divert the leads he gave toward their per- sonal relation and the near and distant future. But she yielded him her hand, not unwilling to establish some connection be- tween this hour and the gladder time of meeting in the morning. They talked a little of Caledonia, of old friends and old times. But it was clear through everything they said that his thought flowed strongly toward the newer world and the bright new place he was to } assured THE SATURDAY take in it however. ‘““What we were saying at dinner about the war, Fanny—of course Jimmy overdid it, picturing the ideal soldier as just a fighting animal. That certainly isn’t my view. Of course a man’s got to make him- self callous, as far as that goes—it's just like a doctor. If a soldier was all the time thinking about the suffering, the horrors of the thing—all that makes war just a misery and a hell—you can see he wouldn't be good for very much. He's got to be callous and unfeeling and hard or he can’t do his job efficiently. Still I don’t hold and never have—that a soldier ought to be just a shooting-and-sticking machine. No, I think he ought to think! I think it’s his duty to keep saying to himself: ‘ Yes, this is an awful mess, but by George, I’m going to get something good out of it!’ That's the way I've tried to do. What's the mat- ter? Isn’t that right?” The question, sudden as a pounce, seemed to gather in the girl’s thought with a jerk. She said with some effort: “‘ Did I look sur- prised? I suppose what you said seemed a—a sort of coine idence. ‘Coincidence? How d’'you mean?’ ‘Nothing worth talking about. Just that I heard a very able man say the same tl ing the other day.” **Been over?” She shook her head. **He’s a civilian doing desk work in Washington.” “TI don’t know that he’s got a right to an opinion, but still—anyway—that’s been my principle. And I think I can say with all modesty that I’ve succeeded too, You re- member, you said this afternoon you weren't the same person you were two years ago. Well, I’m not either. I’ve changed and developed more than I'd have believed pos- You see that, I expect. Don’t you, One thought he did give her, ou forget—I've hardly seen you at all, thanks to the Sterters. In what way do you notice the change most yourself?” Captain March answered without hesi- tation: “‘In my ability to meet all sorts of people and make an impression on them to capitalize my abilities, as Sir Erie Parm- lee put it, and, take what's fairly coming tome. I can see now that was exactly my trouble before. If I met anybody who was rich or important or distinguished I just assumed that he was naturally better than 1 was and sat back and let him run things. Well, I’ve learned that doesn’t pay. I've learned from association with big people that the world’s going to take you at your own valuation, and the way to be impor- tant is to act important. Bluff, bluff, bluff! By George, that’s what about half of life comes down to, once you see it that way! Why, Fanny, sometimes there ir Paris when I was sitting round with colo nels and admirals and high commissioners and titled Englishmen I used to snicker to myself and say, ‘And this is Russell March of Caledonia!’”’ ‘You've certainly met some people.” ‘You've said it! And it’s done so much for me—that’s what I’m trying to say. Yes, turn here, driver—back to the Penn- sylvania Station. Why, take it this way, Fanny: Two years ago I wi a perfectly s atis- fied to spend my life in Caledonia and if I'd risen to be cashier time I was forty I'd have thought myself mighty successful. Now—well, you know my plans and = heard what Jimmy said at dinner. Highe salary I ever got was two thousand dollars a year—now I expect to be taking down ten thousand dollars within two years at the outside. That’s putting it about as con cretely as I can, I guess. And then from the living end of it—the social side! Why, Fanny, of course I want to visit yoo and see the folks and tell them my experi- -make a few speeches at ban juets if they insist—but live there? Why, it’s sin ply not big enough to hold me any more. It’s provincial, that's what Caledonia is! It’s country! It’s small! Just compare Caledonia with this— with what we've been seeing and doing to-day! Compare Jimmy and Ethel Sterter with the boys and girls at a country-club dance!” He summed up with a pleased laugh: Oh, I don’t feel that these two years almost—that I gave to my country have been wasted by any means! Lord, the way things were breaking for me these last few months, it was enough to make me sorry the war ended so soon!”’ Fanny’s face, shaded in the dusky cab, had been turned toward the window and unusual ences EVENING POST the passing sights. Now her eyes suddenly At the same moment she was moved by an abrupt emotion toward the man beside her, a poignant feeling that was not quite love, and her fingers involuntarily pressed the large hand she held He was fresh from profound and terrible experiences. He had been shot, he had been gassed, he had felt the bayonet’ deadly bite. He had stood solitary in the last blackness of night and himself spoke n the word which took hopeful lads out to inconceivable hazards and frightful « Half dead, he had lain in the trap of No Man’s Land, a lonely human atom helples amidst uproars that cracked the skies, watching with half-faded eyes the red rise to a dawn whjch seemed certain to be his last. With cries of senseless rage and triumph he had leaped to grapple with mortal enemies; his hand was dark with the blood of men. He had known fear that froze the spine, joy like the dream of wak- ing up in heaven. I closed. For days and weeks on end he had lived and kept his being on the threshold of eternity. And these things he had suffered, not as a log suffers a mill, but as a sentient and causative part of a mighty upheaval in human relationships, a cosharer in conscious, grim, enormou issues such as plumbed men’s souls to the uttermost. Now his voice, speaking on and on, drifted through her thought as from afar “Well, Mrs. Ambassador said I was just wasting myself—that was all there was to it. Then she asked me straight out, as | say, if I had ever thought of diplomatic life, and when I said, ‘Well, on ly in the most general way,’ she said, ‘Well, you think of it in a very particular way.’ She said, ‘With your abilities, your distinction as a soldier and your social gifts, your game leg and your ribbon, a should go far.’ ‘By the way, Fanny, lots of people seem to think this leg of mine’s going to be a biz asset for me —in a commercial way, I mean. Shouldn't be surprised if that was right too. Well, several big pe ple were standing there listening to the whole thing; and Com- mander Wainwright—thenavalattaché, you know, and a great friend of the ambas- sador’s— said, ‘Ah, there, Russell! And let me tell you this lady always knows whut she’s talking about!’”’ He stopped short and ejaculated in a new tone: “Oh, Lord, here’s the station, Fanny! Our day’s over.” The taxi indeed was already turning into the half-lit runway of the vast teeming edifice; rapidly itslanted downward toward the bottom, toward the end, where the waiting redcaps clustered. A flying glance at his watch now advised Russell that it was twenty minutes past ten. He had but five minutes to make his train and ticket was still unbought. The moment of parting, coming precipi tately as it seemed, was necessarily | ried. Aren't you getting out with me? ‘It would be no use, Russel You have to get right or In facet you've barely is ‘Afraid you're right. Only wish I could see you off. What time’s y« tr ‘Twelve twenty. Plenty of time » yet back to the — change and pac } p I thought I'd heap this taai. “That's right. And you don’t think you ean possibly come up next week-end | can ‘I don’t see how I can ask for leave again 80 vi ‘Then I’ll do my best to run over for a day iM f re ‘It must be a Sunday! I have to wor d then won't you— oughtn t you to go to Caledon i! ke mad every other day. Ar ‘The deuce! Yes, yes, pedro 4 mu But I'll fix up something — yous ! wire you. Well, good-by! You were so sweet to come up at 1 it’s been a wonderful da At the last moment, heedles ai horr behind them crying out at this blocking of the proces 0 the oldier thrust | } id back through the window of the cal | caught her hand in a hard grip. , saw that the look on his face was lowly altering, as if a new thought, and an un- settling one, had just tour hed the edge of his consciousness. ‘Fanny, you—you haven't changed toward me while I was away, have you?” Her heart stirred at the hint of trouble i her lover's voice, But all that she brought herself to say, with the gentle shake of her head, was: ‘I feel toward you just as | used Russell dear.” Captain March, oddly, seemed satisfied with that Chief Yeoman Hardy's absence from th office was but for a i that day was a Si Frothingham, for sidered as leave at prompt return for the opening of busine on Monday morning evoked guarded er er comme! | ib! thusiasm from Lieutenant Charles, who showed his appreciation by giving her within the first hour enough work to la the week She became intensely bus' It was half past even before he left the office ) Mor lay eve ny ) luesda und We nesday she “came back”’ after dinner by re quest, and was hard t bot ights unt eleven o'clock ()r Thursday wher woke not entirely rested t Wa to tne prospect of a day stiffer than any that had gone before At eight-thirty o’clock that morning, a she hurried officeward with the gathe ing army of unwounded desk worker } had an unlooked-for encounter with Mr Wollast l wa i I t raw ! I ] drizzling and ot vise d eeable | Fant ed the matutinal walk dow seventeenth Street wl i f | ‘ id wh fur ( eve mied ft sive a stirri ense of be part whole, a small necessary { a thrilling enterprise in cooperation addition the moment was favorable for high thinking, and tl mornit t seemed her thought ere espe pre ipied She trudged ob! vus to her surround took the crossing at H Street in a vei of periiou abstractior From the rolling tream 1 he middie of the thoroughtare a car detached ell abrupt eurved st irp! and slowed with sque bra to the curb not ten feet awa She neither saw nor he | llowever a pa nger db mounti rom the vehicle to } tand upon the sidewalk directly in front of her So looking up, the girl ran full upon tne gaze of the celebrated Board Chief, di covered in the ‘Well met!” said he in a frien tone ‘Let me give you a lift dow The confrontation wa idde ind to Fanny considerably disturbing. The mo ment her eyes rested upon him she knew that, without her realizing it exact] t} man had constantly hovered in the ba ground of her thoughts through these four day ° The unexpe ted | ' flesh proved disconcerting to a hardly ¢ p! cable degree She felt the blood rise« her cheeks, and the co iene: ok tea foolish symptom at enhanced the ause of Ne verthete | pite eelir pite he vn preterer he vard tne w ta ee! to he ‘ eject i ‘ D ‘ \ ne ‘ ed sf 1 } i equipage Mr. W i n, quite i i pe iH ‘ ru te A | ! eem t ive a I ‘ Ihe M4 were i ‘ ‘ p hit i) | } bee t true pu I id l ist wer | ist happe 1 we had 1 hi t ‘ rile Ww oe ‘ Ve ‘ the awful p ! trade with Me p umia! Goodne Vhat a ithat w olf M ( init ! | & A tuall W med ap t ed it ip fect ima y t i 7 ir office apostie of ppressed emotion *Ah? Well, he'll have Siberia to w ibout next, | imagine Omst eems to te ripe rig i i t i think H ever, I'm gl »> have run int { Wi! f to eet nd say 4 j I'm clearing ext ea Cle ont?" Leaving the Board. Rather unexpect ‘ p { t i 1 i mer ) fur i pected ) ) Ah! 1 i Mr. Cl es w ‘ | pset en he hea he } wt t our place here » fa yur otf concerned i ird aL ed If } manner Wa matter f f t his own, that indicated some poise perhay f Mr. Charles would be ipset when he heard this new | issistant — mora pe iking Wi experiencing a ensat t far removed from that while she spoke Fanny Hardy, in fact, confronted a second i very She perce ed a f for the fire’

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Dallas Toronto Cleveland Brooklyn Denver Milwaukee More Than 1,000 Authorized Distributors BEARINGS SERVICE COM PANY General Offices: Detroit, Michigan THE SATURDAY time that she had long ago come to think of this man, not as the most stimulating of the war chiefs at all but, in a strange way, as her friend. “It would be pleasant to cherish a de- Wollaston lusion of that sort,” said Mr. easily, ‘but I don’t. Thank you all the same.” “I am painfully sincere. This is a real blow. But then—I suppose the rubber cannot get along without business simply you any longer? “No—n-no. It isn’t that exactly. Let’s say rather that all things, however agree- able, must have an end. We pass from stage to stage rf “But why did yousmile? WasI funny “Did I smile? The on I must have thought that you were funny.’ “*Well—but won’t you throw your mind backward and analyze for me how and why? For my future guidance, since I imagined myself as serious—weighty even?” fa Aad “Certainly. You conceive me—if I fol- low you correctly—as chucking all this interesting work here to rush home and make as many rubber tires as I possibly can, to meet a buoyant market. Humor, they say—or one large section of humor grows out of the incongruity between some- body’s conception of a fact and the fact itself. The fact here is that I sold out all my rubber interests six months ago.” The girl turned in the silently rolling limousine and gave him a stare as straight as a man’s. “ But—I didn’t know that! Why, never hinted at such a thing! I “It was in the papers, as I remember. you've However ‘But I didn’t see it! I didn’t know! Why—what made you do it?” “Very simple. I got an offer—and a pretty good one—for my stock.”’ But his air of amusement hardly tained itself under that steadfast scrutiny, and he paid her the compliment of adding almost seriously: “And then—necessarily —I'd lost of my personal enthusiasm for making rub sus- some ber—in April two years ago. No, let me see — | really suppose it was two years before that, or thereabouts And making money — to look at it that way — is a pretty dry cause when one’s heart is gone from the work.” “Yes—yes, of course! But—but this work here? Isn't it—worth while? Hasn't it seemed to you important and—and valuable?” “Yes, certainly—-for the most part. At least it's seemed on the whole the best that Lceould do. Of course I’ve had to remember I'm not a young man—fit to shoulder a gun. That's galled at times naturally— but crying over spilt milk never helped any- body yet. Let's see—yours is B Street, isn’t it?” She nodded, and her gaze, turning from him, lost itself out of the open window through which the thin. morning mist, like smoke, perpetually streamed. “By the way,” continued Mr. Wollas ton, “I was sorry you couldn't come to lunch that day. As she'd heard something about you—for women naval officers don’t grow on every bush, you know— my sister was quite anxious to see you for herself. And I really think you would have enjoyed her. She’s what you might call a card.” “Oh, I didn't doubt my enjoyment and I did appreciate being asked, so much,” said Fanny. And, considerably confused, she acknowledged an obligation to explain a little further. “You you woman situated as I am here expect —well, any sort of social life as she might have at home.” engrossed understand that—a can hardly such see “No, 1 don't understand that exactly. It all depends, I should think. However, that is for you to decide, of course. I remember our last talk very well. In fact I've speculated a little. Of course I should like to ask a question or two, but one draws EVENING POST the line at impertinence. We approac h our destination, I note. Possibly you won’t be coming to the Board again between now and next Wednesday? Then I'd better take this occasion, as the public speakers say, to tell you how much pleasure I’ve had in our—official relations. Don’t tell a soul, but you’ve been the most uniformly satis- factory coworker I’ve found in Washington. Yes, tell everybody, for it’s simple truth. I can’t recall one man here, certainly not one young man, who’s brought to his work as much good sense, good judgment and imagination as you have.” She said after a moment, really mean that?”’ ‘My dear Miss Hardy, I gave up saying things I didn’t mean a long, long time ago. It simply doesn’t pay.” ‘Then,” said she, “I’ll tell you how much I think of it. I’m going to write it to my father before I sleep to-night.” The speech seemed to please the Board chieftain, but he only said: “Good! For it’s very, very true. Well, here we are! And how mue h longer do you intend to stay a sailor? “T—do you “Oh, indefin ite ‘ly! I’m one of the bitter enders, I think.’ The car had halted before the main entrance of the great new Navy Building into which hundreds and thousands of uni- forms—male and female—were pouring for the labors of a new day. Chief Yeoman Hardy made no instan- taneous move to join her thronging work fellows. Indeed, as she saw it, from more than one point of view this conversation was not finished. ‘What's rather more important in the history of the world—isn’t one to know a little more about your moveme nts? You’ve the only told me that you're leaving Board —and have given up the rubber busi- ness. I’m dying to ask you what you're going to do next.” “1? Why, I’m going immediately into another business. Don’t some things go without saying?”’ “Well, was I being amusing again? This becomes embarrassing.” ““No, I'm the humorist this time. Or so I considered, trying to say what I thought you expected of me.” “Ah, but possibly you don’t know what [ expected? At least —what is the business? Do tell me!” “I think I will tell you in a confidential arm of the I'm sailing for Paris Saturday week. President wants to see me.” “Oh!” Mr. Wollaston added in an offhand sort of way: “It’s a secret as yet—in fact haven't even said this to my associates on the Board—but I believe he wants me as one of the economic advisers to the com- mission.” “Oh!” The confidential colleague, who could sum up a knotty question on a sheet of paper as well as another, was aware of the inadequacy of her rejoinders—she couldn't seem to help it. In truth she was staggered by his revelation; staggered by the simple but brilliant fact that this undemonstra- tive man, her friend, whom she had at- tacked with bitterness for insensitiveness to his times, had been moved through these years to overthrow and rebuild the founda- tions of his life. And she was dazzled by the vista of usefulness and honor which her mind’s eye saw opening before him. In her own ears her voice sounded little and mortifyingly flat. “That’s splendid! It’s—it’s perfectly great! I congratulate you—a thousand times! And of course I won’t tell a soul.” “Thank you. It’s a chance— a door per- haps. Who knows?” At that point, with no special apropos- ness or grace, Miss Hardy made a move- ment indicating descent from the car. Mr. Wollaston politely preceded her. Facing as my colleague Government. The her for the second time that morning upon November 29, /9/9 a jostling sidewalk, he amiably resumed control of the conversation. “T’m not going to tell you good-by. I dislike good-bys on principle, and besides I imagine I’ll see you again—if not here at the Board, then somewhere else later on. It amounts to an intuition.” “TI think it is a nice one, Hardy. And then she added hastily, with only a little loss of bre ath: ‘“‘But—please put on your hat. There’s some thing no, there are two things—I want to say. Having thus committed herself beyond turning back, she glanced away down the crowded street and took the plunge she had for some minutes contemplated, in a voice from which self-control had pressed all tone. But the strain turned her a little white. “You mentioned the last talk we had and in a way you implied a question which you were perfectly entitled to ask. I’ve wanted to tell you that I’ve remembered that talk too—especially in the last few days. I remember saying some quite silly things. I’ve wanted to say that I’ve been sorry for them since.” “Really? I don’t seem to recall your saying anything of that sort.” “If you mean that too I’m very glad. But I did say them, and I —I abhor being rhetorical. Of course what matters is not what people do; it’s what it means to them as they do it. It seems to me that’s all there is to say.” Mr. Wollaston, who could hardly have felt completely enlightened, replied at once, “It is enough, I assure you. And, I need hardly add, I appreciate your saying it.” “*And then another thing that personally I’m sorry for—that you're leaving so soon. As our work looks now, I'll not be coming to the Board again.” said Miss “Ah! And that’s an impasse, as I under- stand you?” ‘Well, I—I wondered—I suppose as you're going on Wednesday you're terribly busy —and, of course, every bit of your time will be filled till then?” The Board Chief looked down at the rather pale petty officer, whose averted fringed eyes had stirred the fancy of others than Ensign Dawson, and an odd look flitted briefly over his face and was gone. ‘Before answering that question I must ask plainly whether it involves any serious intentions on your part?” She managed a smile at that, which helped considerably, though not quite so much as she could have wished. “Dreadfully serious, I fear you may think! I--you see, I wanted to ask if you— if you could lunch with me at my c-cafeteria one day—any day you could come —before you went? I—it’s considered quite good. I mean the cafeteria.” “‘For example—to-day? With instantly recovered ease—for who shall dumfound a woman? —she answered, ““A perfect example from my point of view.” “I was lunching with a fellow—Polk. He shall wait. Where and when shall I meet you?” “Well, I won’t ask you to come to my office. That would seem infra dig for a peace commissioner, don’t you think? Will you meet me here on the sidewalk —as if casually—at one o’clock?”’ “T’ll meet you here on the sidewalk at one o’clock. I say nothing about the cas- ualness. Do you know, I think you re doing a very nice thing. A rivederci!” “4 rivederci,” said Miss Hardy. The inflowing tide of naval reservists swallowed her up. Five minutes later Lieu- tenant Charles gobbled her completely. She was burdened with many cares. Never- theless, toward eleven o'clock she surprised the dim thought floating somewhere by: “‘Entertaining big people at a cafeteria — whew! Russell and Jimmy and Ethel would have a fit!” But this time she did not brush the thought away.

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| | ww THE SATURDAY EVENING POST YUTT AND MR. TUTT ““Good afternoon, Mock Hen! You are early to-day.” Mock took her hand and stroked it af- fectionately. “IT go Fulton Mark’ buy li’l’ terrapin. Stop in on way to see dear Miss Fan’,” They stood thus for a moment, and while they did so the clock struck four. “Tgonow!” said Mock suddenly. 0 ‘cloe k alre: ady.’ “It’s early,” answered Miss “Won't you stay a little while?” “IT go now,” he repeated with resolution. “Good-by, li'l’ teacher!”’ She watched until his lithe figure passed through the door, and prese ntly returned to the back room. Mock waited outside until she had disappeared. Then he changed back the clock. “Four Fanny. “We've got you, you blarsted heathen!” cried Mooney hoarsely as he and two oth- ers from the Central Office threw them- selves upon Mock Hen on the landing outside the door of his flat. ‘‘Look out, Murtha. Pipe that thi ing under his arm!” “It’s a bloody turtle!”” gasped Murtha, shuddering. “What's the matter, boys?” inquired Mock. “* Leggo my arm, can’t yer? What'd yer want, anyway?” “We want you, you yellow skunk!” r torted Mooney. “Open that door! Lively now!” “Sure!’’answered Mockamiably. “ on in! What's bitin’ yer?” He unlocked the door and threw it epen. “Take a chair,” he invite d them. “Have a cigar? You there, Emma? Emma Pratt, clad in a wrapper and lying on the big double brass bedstead in the rear room, raised herself on one elbow. “Yep!” she called through the passage. “Got the bird?” Mock looked at Murtha, who was carry- ing the terrapin. “Sure!’’ he called boys. What’d yer want? feller?” “We want you for croaking Quong Lee!" snapped Mooney. ‘‘ Where haveyou been?”’ “Fulton Market—and Hudson House. I left here quarter of four. I haven’t seen Quong Lee. Where was he killed?” Mooney laughed sardonically. “That'll do for you, Mock! Your alibi ain’t worth a damn this time. I saw you myself.’’ ““You saw someone else,”” Mock assured him politely. “I haven't been in China- town.” “Say, what yer doin’ wit’? my Chink?” demanded Emma, appe aring in the door- way. “He was sittin’ here wit’ me all the afternoon, until about just before four ] sent him over to Fulton Market to buy a bird. Who’s been croaked, eh?” “Aw, cut it out, Emma!” replied Mooney. ‘‘That old stuff won’t go here. Your Chink’s goin’ to the chair. Murtha, look through the place while we put Mock in the wagon. Hell!’ he added under his breath. ‘‘Won’t this make Peckham sick!” Come back. “Sit down, Can't yer tell a Mr. Tutt had just finished his morning mail when Willie informed him that Mr. Wong Get desired an interview. Though the old lawyer did not formally represent the Hip Leong Tong he was frequently re- tained by its individual members, who held him in high esteem, for they had always found him loyal to their interests and as much a stickler for honor as themselves. Moreover, between him and Wong Get there existed a curious sympathy as if in some previous state of e xistence Wong Get might have been Mr. Tutt, and Mr. Tutt Wong Get. Perhaps, however, it was merely because both were rather weary, sad and worldly wise. Wong Get did not come alone. He was accompanied by two other Hip Leongs, the three forming the law committee appointed to retain the best available counsel to de- fend Mock Hen. In his expansive frock coat and bowler hat Wong might easily have excited mirth had it not been for the extreme dignity of his demeanor. They were there, he stated, to request Mr. Tutt to protect the interests of Mock Hen, and they were prepared to pay a cash retainer and sign a written contract binding them- selves to a balance—so much if Mock should be convicted; so much if acquitted; so much if he should die in the course of the trial without having been either convicted (Continued from Page 9 or acquitted. It was, said Wong Get gently, a matter of grave importance and they would be glad to give Mr. Tutt time to think it over and decide upon his terms. Suppose, then, that they should return at noon? With this understanding, accord- ingly, they departed. “There’s no point in skinning a Chink just because he is a Chink,” said Tutt when his partner had explained the situation to him. “But it isn’t the highest-class prac- tice and they ought to pay well.” “What do you call well?” inquired Mr. Tutt. “Oh, a thousand dollars down, a couple more if he’s convicted, and five altogether if he’s acquitted.” “Do you think amount of money? ; fa ‘“‘T think so,” answered Tutt. “It might be a good de al for an individual Chink to cough up on his own account, but this is a coéperative affair. Mock Hen didn’t kill Quong Lee to get anything out of it for himself, but to save the face of his society.” ‘He didn’t kill him at all!” declared Mr, Tutt without moving a muscle of his face. “Well, you know what I mean!” said Tutt. ‘‘He wasn’t there,” insisted Mr. Tutt. “*He was way over in Fulton Market buy- ing a te rrapin. ‘That is what, if I were district attor- ney, I should call a Mock Hen with a mock- turtle defense!’’ grunted Tutt. Mr. Tutt chuckled. “T shall have to get that off myself at the beginning of the case, or it might con- vict him,” he re nonin d. ‘But he wasn’t there—unless the jury find that he was.” “In which case he will—or shall—have been there whatever the verb is,”’ agreed Tutt. ‘‘Anyhow they'll tax every laundry and chop-suey palace ‘from the Bronx to the Battery to pay us.” ‘I'd hate to take our fee in bird’s-nest soup, shark’s fin, bamboo-shoots salad and ya ko main,”’ mused Mr. Tutt. “Or in ivory chopsticks, oolong tea, imi- tation jade, litchi nuts and preserved leeches!”’ groaned Tutt. ‘‘Be sure and get the thousand down; it may be all the cash we'll ever see Promptly at twelve the law committee of the Hip Leong Tong returned to the office of Tutt & Tutt. With them came a venerable Chinaman in native costume, his wrinkled face as inscrutable as that of a snapping turtle. The others took chairs, but this high dignitary preferred to sit upon his heels on the floor, creating some- thing of the impression of an ancient slant- eyed Buddha. Wong Get translated for his benefit the arrangement proposed by Mr. Tutt, after which there was a long pause while His Eminence remained im- movable, without even the flicker of an eyelid. Then he delivered himself in an interminable series of gargles and gurgles, supplemented by a few coughlike hisses, while Wong Get translated with rapid dex- terity, running verbally in and out among his words like a carriage dog between the wheels of a vehicle. It was, declared Buddha, an affair of gre at moment touching upon and apper- taining to the private honor of the Duck, the Wong, the Fong, the Long, the Sui and various other families, both in America and China. The life of one of their members was at stake. Their face required that the proceedings should be as dignified as pos- sible. The price named by Mr. Tutt was quite inadequate. Mr. Tutt, repressing a smile, offered the box of stogies. What amount, he inquired through Wong Get, would satisfy the face of the Duck family? A somewhat lengthy discussion ensued, Then Buddha rendered his decision. The honor of the Ducks, Longs and Fongs would not be satisfied unless Mr. Tutt re- ceived five thousand dollars down, five more if Mock Hen was convicted, three more if he died before the conclusion of the trial, and twenty thousand if he was ac- quitted. Mr. Tutt, assuming an equal impassivity, pondered upon the matter for about an inch of stogy and then informed the com- mittee that the terms were eminently satis- factory. Buddha thereupon removed from the folds of his tunic a gigantic roll of soiled bills of all denominations and carefully counting out five thousand dollars placed it upon the table. they can raise that ” “mi” of the tune!” remarke d Tutt when he learned proceeding. ‘“‘His face is our for- “Look here,” expostulated District. At- torney Peckham in his office to Mr. Tutt a month later. ‘What's the use of our both wasting a couple of weeks trying a China- man who is bound to be con, ic ted? Your time’s too valuable for that sort of thing, and so is mine. We've got three white wit nesses that saw him do it, and a couple of dozen Chinks besides chance; but just because he is a Chink, and to get the case out of the way, plead him to murder in the second degree. What do you say?” He tried to conceal his anxiety by nerv- ously lighting a cigar. He would have given a year’s salary to have Mock Hen safely up the river, even on a conviction for manslaughter in the third, for the news- papers were making his life a burden with their constant references to the seeming inability of the police department and dis- trict attorney’s office to prevent the re- currence of feud killings in the districts. What use was it, they demanded, to maintain the expensive machinery of criminal justice if the tongs went gayly on shooting each other up and incidentally tak ing the lives of innocent bystande rs Whi at was a district attorney for anyway? Wasn't the law intended to cover ( *hiname n as much as Italians, Poles, Greeks and nig gers? And now that one of these murder ing Celestials had been caught red-handed it was up to the D. A. to go to it, convict him, and send him to the chair! They did not express themselves precisely that way, but that was the gist of it. But Peckham knew that it was one thing to catch a Chi- naman, even red-handed, and another to convict him. And so did Mr. Tutt. The old lawyer smiled blandly— after the fashion of the Hip Leong Tong. Of course, he admitted, it would be much simpler to dispose of the case as Mr. Peckham sug- gested, but his client was insistent upon his innocence and seemed to have an excellent alibi. He regretted, therefore, that he had no choice except to go to trial. “Then,” groaned Peckham, “‘we may as well take the winter for it. After this there’s going to be a closed season on Chinamen in New York City!” Now though it was true that Mock Hen insisted upon his innocence, he had not in sisted upon it to Mr. T utt, for the latter had not seen him. In fact, the old lawyer, recognizing what the law did not, namely that a system devised for the trial and punishment of Occidentals is totally in- adequate to cope with the Oriental, calmly went about his affairs, intrusting to Bonnie Doon the task of interviewing the witnesses furnished by Wong Get. There was but one issue for the jury to pass upon. Quong Lee was dead with his illustrious ancestors. from asingle blow upon the head, delivered with an iron bar, there evidence, marked “ Exhibit A.””. Mock Hen was alleged to have done the deed. Had he? There would be nothing for Mr. Tutt to do but to cross-examine the witnesses and then call such as could testify to Mock’s alibi. So he made no preparation at all — dismissed the case from his mind. He hi not seen a dozen Chinamen in his life. outside of a laundry. On the morning set for the trial Mr Tutt, having been delayed by an accident in the Subway, entered the Criminal Courts Building only a moment or two before the call of the calendar, Somewhat preoccupied, he did not notice the numerous Chinamen who dawdled about the entrance half dozen who crowded with him into the elevator, but when Pat the elevator man called, ‘‘Second floor!— Part One right!— Part Two to the left!’ and he ste pped out into the marble-floored corri dor that ran round the inside of the build ing, he was confronted with an unusual and somewhat ominous spectacle, The entire hallway on two sides of the building was lined with Chinamen! They sat there motionless as blue-coated images, faces front, their hands in their laps, their legs crossed beneath them. If anyone ap peared in the offing a couple of hundred pairs of glinting eyes shifted automatically and fol wed him until he disappeared, but otherwise no muscle (Qulve red, He doesn’t stand a | I'll let you | Chinatown | and his honorable soul was | He had died | present, to be in | or the | to your | 69 OU want style, of course, in your Fall Overcoat. But you want real sterling worth also. A good way to be sure you are getting honest value and fa- shion is to look for the “*R & W”? label. It?s your protection. PRODUCT OF THI DAYLIGHT SHOPS Makers of good overcoats, rain oats, trousers, fancy and dress waistcoats, bathrobes, summer »bile apparel. smoking jackets, clothing, golf and auton Rosenwald & Weil Clothing Specialties CHICAGO

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ed hi up the nstant he tepped out of the private elevator-—the four hundred of them. If he turned looked they were seemingl it watching him, but if he dropped his glance the vung back in a single mo ment and fo ipon him used thersel ve And every one of them probably had a gur hidden where in hi baggy pants! The t* ed to not liking these You ome judge con licide case never could tell what might ippen or ebody going toget thedeath sigr Deasy he front of hi ise blown clean out by a mb! That had been a close ' And these Chir h ther ecret oaths tuals—they’d think ng at all of jabbing a knife to one. He didn’t fancy t at all and, as he hurried Hong upremely of the deadly cumulative ef fect of those beady eve he What one of foreign hor when sor was Judge the whole and noth Consciou cied it le ind les as there to prevent them from getting right up in ourt and putting a bullet through one? He shivered recalling the re« tion of a judge upon the benc! by a Hindu whom he had When he reached } robing room he for Captain Phelan ee here, captain,”’ he harpl =a ent assassina entenced ent rected want you | to keep all those Cl amet out in a | tand’?”’ | ‘I've got to let some of ‘em in, judge,”’ urged Phelan You's to have an in terpreter there’s a Chi nese lawyer associated wit! rutt & Tutt and of course Mr. O'Brien ha to couple of ‘em so’ what's going on Y’ see judge, the On Tong i helping the prosecution wainst the Hip Leong o both sides has t le repre ented.”’ “Well, make armed, ordered ‘I don't like and Cree » be more sure none of them is os ludge Bender. these cases,” Now the judge cently elected and unfamiliar with the situation did not realize that nothing could been farther from the Oriental mind or intention than an attack upon the offi cers engaged in the admini trationjof local justice, whom they regarded merely as nui ances What these China men supremely desired was to be allowed to settle their own affairs in their own his beit g re have THE SATURDAY useless pawns In life’s game of chess Per- haps they are! Who knows! When Judge Bender entered the court room it was already packed with blue blouses. A special panel of two hundred talesmen filled the first half dozen rows of benches, the others being occupied by wit nesses, policemen and the miscellaneous human flotsam and jetsam that always manages somehow or other to find its way to a murder trial. Inside the rail O’Brien, istant district attorney, was busy in vith three cueless Chinamen At the bar sat Moct the as onver n Americ in cl atior the EVENING POST “ A day or two less, perhaps,” affirmed Mr. Tutt, “but, likely as not, considerably longs = “T shall cut it down as much as I can,’ announced the judge, appalled at the pros- “I shall not permit this trial to be dragged out indefinitely.” ‘Nothing would please me better, Your Honor,” bowed Mr. Tutt with the shadow of a smile ‘Shall we proceed to select the jury , pec t. The accuracy of Mr. Tutt’s prophecy as he probable length of the trial was to the November 29, 1/919 they clinked glasses over the bar at Pont’s, “‘you’ve handed me a ripe, juicy Messina all right! I won't be able to get a jury. We've been at it since ten o’clock and we haven’t lured a single sucker into the box!” ‘“What’s the matter?” inquired the D. A. apprehensively. “T can’t quite make out,” answered O’Brien. ‘‘But most of ’em seem to have a sort of idea that to kill a Chinaman ain’t a crime but a virtue!” “Well, don’t tell anybody,” whispered Peckham, “but I’m somewhat of that way of thinking myself. Set em up again, John!” However, by invoking the utmost celerity a jury was Mock Hen Raised a Trap and Emerged Into a Tunnel by Means of Which He Eventuatily Reached the End of the Block at last selected and sworn at the end of the nineteenth day of the trial. As a jury O’Brien confidentially ad- mitted to Peckham it wasn’t much! But what could you expect of a bunch who were q willing to swear that they hadn’t any prejudice against a Chink and would as soon acquit him as a white man? The truth was that they were all gentlemen who, having lost their jobs, were willing to swear to anything that would | bring them in two dollars a } day. The more days the bet- ter! And it is historic fact that during the sixty-nine days of Mock Hen’s prose- cution not one of them pro- tested at being kept away from his wife and children, his business or his pleasure. On the contrary they all slumbered peacefully from ten until four—and when the trial ended, on the whole they rather regretted that it was over, the only genuine opin- } ion regarding the case being that the Chinks were all as funny as hell and that Mr Tutt was a bully old boy. The evidence respecting the death of the unfortunate Quong Lee made little im- pression upon them. Seem- ingly they regarded the story much as they did that of Elisha and the bears or Bel and the dragon— as a sort of apocryphal narrative which they were required to listen to, but in no wise bound to believe. They were much in- | terested in Quong’s suit of chain mail, however, and from time to time awoke to enjoy the various verbal encounters between the judge and Mr. Tutt. As factors in the pro- ceedings they did not count, except to receive their two dollars per diem, board, lodg- ing and hack fare. The trial of Mock Hen being conducted in a foreign language the first judicial step was the swearing of an interpreter. The On had promptly produced one, whom O’Brien told the court was a very learned man; a graduate of the Imperial University at Peking, and a Son of the Sacred Dragon Be that as it may, he was not prepossessing in his appear- | ance and Mr. Tutt assured Judge Bender that far from | being what the district at- | torney pretended, the man Gees was a well-known gambler, who made his living largely by blackmail. He might be a son of adragon or he might not; anyway he was a son of toric and traditional way the way of the revolver, the lIken cord, the knife and the Once enmeshed in Anglo-Saxon juridical procedure, to be sure, they were not averse to letting it run its course on the bare chance iron bar that it might automatically accomplish their revenge But they distrusted it, being brought up according to a much more effective one which when it wanted to punish anybody simply reached out, grabbed him by the pigtail, yanked him to his knees and sliced off his head. This so-called American justice was all talk words, words, words! From their point of view judges, jurymen and prosecutors were system Hen with Mr. Tutt beside him, flanked by W ong Get, Tutt, Bonnie Doon and Buddha. The judge beckoned Mr. Tuttand O’Brien to the front of the bench ‘Is there any chance of disposing of this case by a plea? " he inquired O'Brien looked expectantly at Mr. Tutt, who shook his head. The judge shrugged his shoulders “*Well, how long is it going to take?” ‘“*About six weeks,” answered the old lawyer quietly. “What!” ejaculated judge and prose- cutor in unison partially demonstrated when it developed that most of the talesmen had a pronounced antipathy to Chinese murder cases, and a deep-rooted prejudice against the race as a whole. In fact, a certain subconscious in- fluence affecting most of them was formu- lated by the thirty-ninth talesman to be rejected who, in a moment of resentment, burst forth, “‘I don’t mind trying decent American criminals, but I hold it isn’t any part of a citizen’s duty to try Chinamen!” and was promptly struck off the jury list. “T say, chief,” disgustedly declared O’Brien to Peckham at the noon recess as Belial. An interpreter was the conduit through which all the evidence must pass. If the official were biased or corrupt the testimony would be distorted, colored or suppressed. Now he— Mr. Tutt — had an interpreter, the well-known Dr. Hong Su, against whom nothing could be said, and upon whose fat head rested no imputation of partiality; a graduate of Harvard, a writer of note, a O’Brien sprang to his feet: ‘‘ My inter- preter says your interpreter is an opium smuggler, that he murdered his aunt in Hongkong, that he isn’t a doctor at all, Continued on Page 73

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— eee eee eee (Continued from Page 70) and that he never graduated from anything except a chop-suey joint,” he interjected. ‘This is outrageous!” cried Mr. Tutt, palpably outraged at such language. “Gentlemen! Gentlemen!”’ groaned Judge Bender. ““WhatamI todo? I don’t know anything about these men. One looks to me about the same as the other. The court has no time to inquire into their antecedents. They may both be learned scholars or they may each be what the other says he is—I don’t know. But we've got to begin to try this case sometime.” It was finally agreed that in order that there might be no possible question of partiality there should be two interpreters one for the prosecution and one for the defense. Both accordingly were sworn and the first witness, Ah Fong, was called. “Ask him if he understands the nature of an oath,” directed O’Brien. The interpreter for the state turned to Ah Fong and said something sweetly to him in multitudinous words. Instantly Doctor Su rose indignantly. The other interpreter was not putting the question at all, but telling the witness what tosay. Moreover, the other interpreter be- longed to the On Gee Tong. He stood wav- ing his arms and gobbling like an infuriated turkey while his adversary replied in simi- lar fashion. “This won’t do!” snapped the judge. “This trial will degenerate into nothing but a cat fight if we are not careful.”” Then a bright idea suggested itself to his Occi- dental mind. ‘Suppose I appoint an official umpire to say which of the other two interpreters is correct—and let them decide who he shall be? This proposition was received with grunts P satisfaction by the two antago- nists, who conferred together with aston- ishing amiability and almost immediately conducted into the court room a tall, emaciated Chinaman who they alleged was entirely satisfactory to both of them. He was accordingly sworn as a third inter- preter, and the trial began again. It was observed that thereafter there was no dis- pute whatever regarding the accuracy of the testimony, and as each interpreter was paid for his services at the rate of ten dol- lars a day it was rumored that the whole affair had been arranged by agreement be- tween the two societies, which divided the money, amounting to some eighteen hun- dred dollars, between them. But, as O’Brien afterward asked Peckham, How in thunder could you tell? The court's troubles had, however, only begun. Ah Fong was a whimsical-looking person, who gave an impression of desiring to make himself generally agreeable. He was, of course, the star witness—if a China- man can ever be a star witness—and pre- sumably had been carefully schooled as to the manner in which he should give his testimony. He and he alone had seen the whole tragedy from beginning to end. He it was, if anybody, who would tuck Mock Hen comfortably into his coffin. The problem of the interpreters having been solved Fong settled himself comfort- ably in the witness chair, crossed his hands upon his stomach and looked complacently at Mock Hen. “Well, now let’s get along,’ Honor. ‘Swear the witness. Mr. Tutt immediately rose. “If the court please,”’ said he, “I object to the swearing of the witness unless it is made to appear that he will regard himself as bound by the oath as administered. Now this man is a Chinaman. I should like to ask him a pre ee question or two. ” ‘That seems fair, Mr. O’Brien,” agreed the court. “‘Do you see any reason why Mr. Tutt shouldn’t interrogate the wit- ness?”’ “Oh, let me qualify my own witness!”’ retorted O’Brien fretfuliy. “‘Ah Fong, will you respect the oath to testify truthfully, about to be administered to you?” The interpreter delivered a broadside of Chinese at Ah Fong, who listened atten- tively and replied at equal length. Then the interpreter went at him again, and again Ah Fong affably responded. It was interminable. The two muttered and chortled at each other until O’Brien, losing patience, oo od up and called out: ‘‘What’s all this? Can’t you ask him a simple question and pan a simple “answer? This isn’t a debating soc iety. The interpreter held up his hand, indi- cating that the prosecutor should have patience. ” adjured His THE SATURDAY “* Ah-ya-ya-o0-aroo-yung-ung-loy-a-a-ya 00-chu-a-oy-ah-ohay-tching!"’ he concluded. ** A-yah-oy-a-yoo-oy-ah-chuck-uh-ung-loy- 00-ayah-ayoo-chung-chung-s2t-00-aha-oy-ou- ungaroo-yah-yah-yah!”’ replied Ah Fong. “Thank heaven, that’s over!"’ sighed O’Brien. The interpreter drew himself up to his full height. “‘He says yes,” he declared dramatically. “Tt’s the longest yes I ever heard!” audibly remarked the foreman, who was feeling his oats. “Does not that satisfy you? the court of Mr. Tutt. “I am sorry to say it does not!” replied the latter. ‘“‘Mr. O’Brien has simply asked whether he will keep his oath. His reply sheds no light on whether his religious be- lief is such that it would obligate him to respect an oath.” “Well, ask him yourself!” O’Brien. ““Ah Fong, do you believe in any god?” inquired Mr. Tutt. “He says yes,” answered the interpreter after the usual interchange. “What god do you believe in?”’ persisted Mr. Tutt. Suddenly Ah Fong made answer without the intervention of the inte rpreter: “When I in this country, ” he replied complacently in English, * ‘I b'lieve Gees Clist; when I in China I b’lieve Chinese god.” “Does Your Honor hold that an obliging acquiescence in local theology constitutes such a religious belief as to make this man’s oath sacred?” inquired Mr. Tutt. The judge smiled. “T don’t see why not!” he declared. “There isn’t any precedent so far as I am aware. But he says he believes in the Deity. Isn’t that enough?” “‘Not unless he believes that the Deity will punish him if ‘ie breaks his oath,” answered Mr. Tutt. “Let me try him on that?” “ Ah Fong, do you think God will punish you if you tell a lie?”’ Fong looked blank. The interpreter fired a few salvos. “He says it makes a difference the kind of oath.” “Suppose it is a promise to tell the truth?” “He says what kind of a promise?”’ “A promise on the Bible,’’ answered Mr. Tutt patiently. “He says what god you mean!” tered the interpreter. “Oh, any god!” roared Mr. Tutt. The interpreter, after a long parley, made reply. “Ah Fong says there is no binding oath except on a chicken’s head.” Judge Bender, O’Brien and Mr. Tutt gazed at one another helplessly. “Well, there you are!" exclaimed the lawyer. ‘‘Mr. O’Brien’s oath wasn't any oath at all! What kind of a chicken’s head?” “A white rooster.” “Quite so!’’ nodded Mr. Tutt. “Your Honor, I object to this witness being sworn by any oath or in any form except on the head of a white rooster!” “Well, I don’t happen to have a white rooster about me!’’ remarked O’Brien, while the jury rocked with glee. ‘Ask him if something else won’t do. A big book for instance?” The interpreter put the question and then shook his head. According to Ah Fong there was no virtue in books whatever, either large or small. On some occasions an oath could be properly taken on a broken plate—also white—but not in murder cases. It was chicken or nothing. “‘Are you not willing to waive the for- mality of an oath, Mr. Tutt?” asked the judge in slight impatience. “And wave my client into the chair?” demanded the lawyer. “No, sir!” “I don't see what we can do except to adjourn court until you can procure the 9” inquired snorted coun- necessary poultry,” announced Judge Bender. “‘Even then we can’t slaughter them in court. We'll have to find some suitable place!” “Why not kill one rooster and swear all the witnesses at once?”’ suggested Mr. Tutt in a moment of inspiration. ““My God, chief!” exclaimed O’Brien at four o'clock. “There ain’t a white rooster to be had anywhere! Hens, yes! By the hundred! But roosters are extinct! To- morrow will be the twenty-first day of this prosecution and not a witness sworn yet.” EVENING POST However, a poultryman was presently discovered who agreed simply for what ad- vertising there was in it to furnish a crate of white roosters, a hatchet and a heads- man’s block, and to have them in the base- ment of the building promptly at ten o'clock. Accordingly, at that hour Judge Bender convened Part 1X of the General Sessions in the court room and then ad- journed downstairs, where all the prospec- tive witnesses for the prosecution were lined up in a body and told to raise their right hands. Meantime Clerk McGuire was handed the hatchet, and he approached the coop with obvious misgivings. Ah Fong had already given a dubious approval to the sex and quality of the fowls inside and naught re- mained but to submit the proper oath and remove the head of the unfortunate victim. A large crowd of policemen, witnesses, re- porters, loafers, truckmen and others drawn by the unusual character of the proceedings had assembled and now proceeded without the slightest regard for the requirements of judicial dignity to encourage McGuire in his capacity of executioner, by profane shouts and Jeers, to do his deadly deed. But the clerk had had no experience with chickens and in bashfully groping for the selected rooster allowed see other occu- pants of the crate to escape. Instantly the air was filled with fluttering, squawking fowls while fifty frenzied police officers and Chinamen attempted vainly to reduce them to captivity again. In the midst of the mélée McGuire caught his rooster, and fearful lest it should escape him managed with truly surprising dexterity to decapi- tate it. The body, however, had been flopping round spasmodically several sec- onds upon the floor before he realized that the oath had not been administered, and his voice suddenly rose above the pande- monium in an excited brogue. “Hold up your hands, you! You do solemnly swear that in the case of The People against Mock Hen you will tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth so help you God!” But the interpreter was at that moment engaged in clasping to his bosom a strug- gling rooster and was totally unable to fulfill his functions. Meantime the jury, highly edified at this illustration of the adminis- tration of justice, gazed down upon the spectacle from the stairs. “This farce has gone far enough!" de- clared Judge Bender disgustedly. ‘“‘We will return to the court room. Put those roosters back where they belong!”’ Once more the participants suennded to Part IX and Ah Fong took his seat in the witness chair. The interpreter’s blouse was covered with pinfeathers and one of his thumbs was bleeding profusely. “Ask the witness if the oath that he has now taken will bind his conscience?” di- rected the court. Again the interpreter and Ah Fong held converse. “He says,” translated that official calmly, ‘that the chicken oath is all right in China, but that it is no good in United States, and that anyway the proper form of words was not used.” “Good Lord!” ejaculated “Where am I?” “Me tell truth, all light,’ suddenly an- nounced Ah Fong in English. ‘Go ahead! Shoot!”” And he smiled an inscrutable age- long Oriental smile. The jury burst into 1: vughte r. “He’s stringing you!" the foreman kindly informed O Brie nm, who cursed si lently. “Go on, Mister District Attorney, ex- amine the witness,” directed the judge. “I shall permit no further variations upon the established forms of procedure.” Then at last and not until then—on the morning of the twenty-first day—did Ah Fong tell his simple story and the jury for the first time learn what it was all about. But by then they had entirely cease .d to care, being engrossed in watching Mr. Tutt at his daily amusement of torturing O’Brien into a state of helpless exasperation. Ah Fong gave his testimony with a clarity of detail that left nothing to be de- sired, and he was corroborated in most re- spects by the Italian woman, who identified Mock Hen as the Chinaman with the iron bar. Their evidence was supplemented by that of Bull Neck Burke and Miss Malone, who also were positive that they had seen Mock running from the scene of the murder at exactly four-one o'clock. Mr. Tutt hardly cross-examined Fong at all, but with Mr. Burke he pursued very O’Brien. 73 different tactics, speedily rousing the wrestler to such a condition of fury that he was hardly articulate, for the old lawyer gently hinted that Mr. Burke was invent ing the whole story for the purpose of as sisting his friends in the On Gee Tong. “But I tell yer I don’t know no Chinks!" bellowed Burke, looking more like a bull than ever. ‘This here Mock Hen run right by me. My goil saw him too. I looked at me ticker to get the time!"’ “Ah! Then you expec ted to be a witness for the On Gee Tong!” “Naw! I tell yer I was walkin’ wit’ me goil!”’ “What is the lady’s name?” “Miss Malone.” “What is her oce upation? i “She's a gay burlesquer.’ ““A gay burlesquer?”’ “Sure—champagne goil and gay bur lesquer.”’ “A champagne girl!” “Dat what I said.” “You mean that she is upon the stage?”’ “Sure—dat’s it!" “Oh!” Mr. Tutt looked relieved “What had you and Miss Malone been doing that afternoon?” ‘I told yer—walkin’.” Mr. Tutt coughe od slightly. “Is that all? “Say, watcha drivin’ at?” Mr. Tutt elevated his bushy eyebrows. **How do you earn your living?” he de- manded, changing his method of attack Bull Neck allowed his head to sink stiil farther into the vast bulk of his immense torso, strangely resembling, in this position, the fabled anthropophagi whose heads are reputed thus to “grow beneath their shoulders.” Then throwing out his jaw he announced proudly between set teeth: “I'm a perfes sor of physical sculture!” The jury sniggered. Mr. Tutt : politely puzzled “A professor of what?” “A perfessor of physical sculture!” re- peated Bull Neck with great satisfaction. “Oh! A professor of physica! sculp ture!”’ exclaimed Mr. Tutt, light breaking over his wrinkled countenance. ‘And what may that be?” Bull Neck looked round disgustedly at the jury as if tosay: ‘‘ What ignorance!” “Trainin’ an’ developin’ prominent people!”’ he explained “Um!” remarked Mr. Tutt. ‘ Who in- vited you to testify in this case?” ““Mr. Mooney.” “Oh, you're a friend of Mooney’s! That is all!” Now it is apparent from these questions and answers that Mr. Burke had testified to nothing to his discredit and had con- ducted himself as a gentleman and a sports- man according to his best lights. Yet owing to the subtle suggestions contained in Mr Tutt’s inflections and demeanor the jury leaped unhesitatingly to the conclusion that here was a man so ignorant and debased that if he were not deliberately lying he was being made a cat’s-paw by the police in the interest of the On Gee Tong Miss Malone fared even worse, for after a preliminary skirmish she flatly refused to give Mr. Tutt or the jury any information whatever regarding her past life, while + aac of course, labored from the begin ning to the end of his testimony under the curse of being a policeman, one of that class whom most jurymen take pride in saying they hold in natural distrust. In a word, the white witnesses to the dastardly murder of Quong Lee created a general im pression of unreliability upon the minds of the jury, who wholly failed to realize the somewhat obvicus truth that the witnesses to a crime in Chinatown will naturally not inevitably be persons who either reside in or frequent that locality Twenty-four days had now been con sumed in the trial, and as yet no Chinese witnesses except Ah Fong had been called Now, however, they appeared in cohort Though Mooney had sworn that the streets were practically empty at the time of the homicide forty-one Chinese witnesses swore positively that they had been within easy view, claiming variously to have been be- hind doors, peeking through shutters, at upper windows and even on the roofs. All had identified Mock Hen as the murderer, and none of them had ever heard of either the On Gee or the Hip Leong Tong! Mr Tutt could not shake them upon cross- examination, and O'Brien began to show signs of renewed confidence. Each testi- fied to substantially the same story and ppeared

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74 Che Dr. YIng Oo Shoes y drying wet shoes, never place them in an oven, near a radiator or over a register. Place trees in the shoes which should then dry naturally. Wear in a shoe is hidden. Hence the necessity of a brand that means some- thing to you when select- ing a shoe. The name CROSSETT on shoes is a definite guar- your antee of full value and longer wear. Ask Crossett Shoe Dealer for Booklet: “SHOES—THEIR Care.” Lewis A. Crossett, Inc. North Abington, Mass. ~The’ SETT ROS hoe “MAKES LIFE'S WALK EASY” for MEN and WOMEN | more persuasive. THE SATURDAY they occupied seventeen full days in the telling, so that when the prosecution rested forty-two days had been consumed since the first talesman had been called. The trial had sunk into a dull, unbroken monot- ony, as Mr. Tutt said, of the “vain repeti- tions of the heathen.”’ Yet the police and the district attorney had done all that could reasonably have been expected of them. They were simply confronted by the very obvious fact—a condition and not a theory—that the legal processes of —~ Saxon jurisprudence are of slight avail in dealing with people of another race. Now it is possible that even had Mr. Tutt yut in no defense whatever the jury might od refused to convict, for there was a curious air of unreality surrounding the whole affair. It all seemed somehow as if assuming that it had ever taken place at all—it had occurred in some other world and in some other age. Perhaps under what might have been practically a direction of the court a verdict of conviction might have been returned—but it is doubtful. The more witnesses testified to exactly the same thing in precisely the same words the less likely it appeared to be. But Mr. Tutt was taking no chances and, upon the forty-third day of the trial, at a nod from the bench he opened his case. Never had he been more serious; never Abandoning every sug- gestion of frivolity he weighed the testi- mony of each white witness and pointed out its obvious lack of probative value. | Not one, he said, except the Italian woman, | Such an identification was useless. | Chinamen were potent had had more than a fleeting glance of the face of the man now accused of the “-. e lying. They had not been there at all! Would any member of the jury hang a dog, even a yellow one, on such testimony? Of course not! Much less a human being. The people had called | forty witnesses to prove that Mock Hen had killed Quong Lee. It made no difference. The On Gee could have just as easily produced four hundred. Moreover, Mr. lutt did a very daring thing. He pro- | nounced all Chinese testimony in an Amer- ican court of justice as absolutely valueless, and boasted that for every Chinaman who swore Mock Hen was guilty he would bring forward two who would swear him innocent. The thing was, as he had carefully ex- plained to Bonnie Doon, to prove that Mock was a good Chinaman and, if the jury did not believe that there was any such animal, to convince them that it was pos- sible. His first task, however, was to polish off the Chinese testimony by calling the witnesses who had been secured by Bonnie Doon under the guidance of Wong Get. He admitted afterward that in view of the ex- clusion law he had not supposed there were so many Chinamen in the United States, for they crowded the corridors and stair- cases ot the Criminal Courts Building, ar- riving in companies—the Wong family, the Mocks, the Fongs, the Lungs, the Sues, and others of the sacred Hip Sing Society from near at hand and from distant parts—from Brooklyn and Flatbush, from Flushing and Far Rockaway, from Hackensack and Hoboken, from Trenton and Scranton, from Buffalo and Saratoga, from Chicago | and St. Louis, and each and every one of them swore positively upon the severed neck of the whitest rooster—the broken fragments of the whitest of porcelain wae the holiest of books—that he had een present in person at Fulton Market in New York City at precisely four-fifteen o'clock in the afternoon and assisted Mock Hen, the defendant, in selecting and pur- chasing a terrapin for stew. Mr. Tutt grinned at the jury and the jury grinned affectionately back at Mr. Tutt. Indeed, after the length of time they had all been together they had almost as much respect for him as for the judge upon the bench. The whole court seemed to be a sort of Tutt Club, of which even O’Brien was a member. “Now,” said Mr. Tutt, “I will call a few witnesses to show you what kind of a man this is whom these highbinders accuse of the crime of murder!” Mock, rolling his eyes heavenward, as- sumed an expression of infantile helpless- ness and trust. “Don’t overdo it!"’ growled Tutt. “Just look kind of gentle.” So Mock looked as gentle as a sucking dove while two professors from Columbia University, three of his landlords in his more reputable business enterprises, the superintendent of the Rising Sun Mission, four ex-police officers, a fireman, and an EVENING POST investigator from the Society for the Sup- pression of Sin swore upon Holy Writ and with all sincerity that Mock Hen was not only a person of the most excellent charac- ter onl cptteiien but a Christian and a gentleman. And then Mr. Tutt played his trump card. “T will call Miss Frances Duryea, of Hudson House,” he announced. “Miss Duryea, will you kindly take the witness chair?” Miss Fanny modestly rose from her seat in the rear of the room and came forward. No one could for an instant doubt the honesty and impartiality of this devoted middle-aged woman, who, surrendering the comforts and luxuries of her home up- town, to which she was well entitled by reason of her age, was devoting herself to a life of service. If a woman like that, thought the jury, was ready to vouch for Mock’s good yaw eg why waste any more time on the case? But Miss Fanny was to do much more. “Miss Duryea,” began Mr. Tutt, ‘‘do you know the defendant?” “Yes, sir; I do,” she answered quietly. “How long have you known him? “Six years.” “Do you know his reputation for peace and quiet?” Miss Fanny half turned to the judge and then faced the jury. “He is one of the sweetest characters I have ever known,”’ she replied, “‘and I have known many ——” “Oh, I object!” interrupted O’Brien. “This lady can't be permitted to testify to anything like that. She must be limited by the rules of evidence!” With one movement the jury wheeled and glared at him. “T guess this lady can say anything she wants!"" declared the foreman chival- rously. O’Brien shrank down in his seat. was the use! “Goon, please,” gently directed Mr.Tutt. ““As I was saying, Mr. Mock Hen is a very remarkable character,” responded Miss Fanny. “ He is devoted to the mission and to us at the settlement. I would trust him absolutely in regard to anything.” “Thank you,” said Mr. Tutt, smiling benignly. “‘ Now, Miss Duryea, did you see Mock Hen at any time on May sixth?” Instantly the jury showed renewed signs of life. May sixth? That was the day of the murder. “I did,”’ answered Miss Fanny with con- viction. ‘‘He came to see me at Hudson House in the afternoon and while we were talking the clock struck four.”’ The jury looked at one another and nodded. “Well, I guess that settles this case!’’ announced the foreman. *Right!"’ echoed a talesman behind him. “I object!” wailed O’Brien. ‘This is entirely improper!’ “‘Quite so!" ruled Judge Bender sternly. “The jurymen will not make any re- marks!”’ “But, Your Honor—we all agreed at recess there was nothing in this case,”’ an- nounced the foreman. ‘And now this testimony simply clinches it. Why go on with it?” “That's so!’’ ejaculated another. “Let us go, judge.” Mr. Tutt’s weather-beaten face was wreathed in smiles. “Easy, gentlemen!”’ he cautioned. The judge shrugged his shoulders, frowning. “This is very irregular!’ he said. Then he beckoned to O’Brien, and the two whispered together for several minutes, while all over the court room on the part of those who had sat there so patiently for sixty-nine days there was a prolonged and ecstatic wriggling of arms and legs. In- stinctively they all knew that the farce was over. The assistant district attorney returned to his table but did not sit down. “If the court please,”’ he said rather wearily, ‘the last witness, Miss Duryea, by her testimony, which I personally am quite ready to accept as truthful, has inter- jected a reasonable doubt of the defendant's guilt into what otherwise would in my opinion be a case for the jury. If Mock Hen was at Hudson House, nearly two miles from Pell and Doyers Streets, at four o'clock on the afternoon of the homicide, manifestly he could not have been one of the assailants of Quong Lee at one minute past four. I am satisfied that no jury would convict ——” What November 29, 1919 “Not on your life!’’ snorted the foreman airily. “and I therefore,”” went on O’Brien, “ask the court to direct an acquittal.” In the grand banquet hall of the Shanghai and Hongkong American-Chinese Restau- rant, Ephraim Tutt, draped in a blue man- darin coat with a tasseled pill box rakishly upon his old gray head, sat beside Wong Get and Buddha at the head of a jong table surrounded by three hundred Chinamen in their richest robes of ceremony. Lanterns of party-colored glass swaying from gilded rafters shed a strange light upon a silken cloth marvelously embroidered and laden with the choicest of Oriental dishes, and upon the pale faces of the Hip Leong Tong—the Mocks, the Wongs, the Fongs and the rest—both those who had testified and also those who had merely been ready if duty called to do so, all of whom were now gathered together to pay honor where they felt honor to be due; namely, at the shrine of Mr. Tutt. Deft Chinese waiters slipped silently from guest to guest with bird’s-nest soup, guy soo main, mon goo guy pan, shark’s fin and lung har made of shreds of lobster, water chestnuts, rice and the succulent shoots of the young bamboo, while three musicians in a corner sang through their noses a syncopated dirge. ‘‘ Wang-ang- ang-ang!”’ it rose and fell as Mr. Tutt, his neck encircled by a wreath of lilies, essayed to manipulate a pair of long black chop- sticks. ‘‘Wang-ang-ang-ang!’’ About him were golden limes, ginger in sirup, litchi nuts, pickled leeches. Then he felt a touch upon his shoulder and turned to see Fong Hen, the slipper, standing beside him. It was the duty of Fong Hen to drink with each guest —more than that, to drink as much as each guest drank! He gravely offered Mr. Tutt a pene of rice brandy. It was not the fiery ava hehad anticipated, but asoft, caressing nectar, fragrant as if distilled from celestial flowers of the time of Confucius. The slipper swallowed the same quantity at a gulp, bowed and passed along. Mr. Tutt vainly tried to grasp the fact that he was in his own native city of New York. Long sleeves covered with red and — dragons hid his arms and hands, and yelow the collar a smooth tight surface of silk across his breast made access to his pockets quite impossible. In one of them reposed twenty one-thousand-dollar bills his fee for securing the acquittal of Mock Hen. Yes, he was in New York! The monotonous wail of the instruments, the pungency of the incense, the subdued light, the humid breath of the roses carried the thoughts of Mr. Tutt far away. Before him, against the blue misty sunshine, rose the yellow temples of Peking. He could hear the faint tintinnabulation of bells. He was wandering in a garden fra- grant with jasmine blossoms and adorned with ancient graven stones and carved gilt statues. The air was sweet. Mr. Tutt was very tired. “Let him sleep!” nodded Buddha, deftly ee to his wrinkled lips a delicate morsel of guy yemg dun. “Let him sleep! He has earned his sleep. He has saved our ” face! It was after midnight when Mr. Tutt, heavily laden with princely gifts of ivory and jade and boxes of priceless teas, emerged from the side door of the Shanghai and Hongkong American-Chinese Res- taurant. The sky was brilliant with stars and the vi, of Doyers and Pell Streets were crowded with pedestrians. Near by a lantern-bedecked rubber-neck wagon was in process of unloading its cargo of seekers after the curious and unwhole- some. On either side of him walked Wong Get and Buddha. They had hardly reached the corner when five shots echoed in quick succession above the noise of the traffic, and the crowd turned with one accord and rushed in the direction from which he had just come. Mr. Tutt, startled, stopped and looked back. Courteously stopped along Wong Get and Buddha. A throng was fast gath- ering in front of the Shanghai and Hong- kong Restaurant. Then Murtha appeared, shouldering his way roughly through the mob. Catching sight of Mr. Tutt he paused long enough to whisper hoarsely in the lawyer’s ear: “Well, they got Mock Hen! Five bullets in him! But if they were going to, why in hell couldn’t they have done it three months ago?”’

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Seer ee me . THE SATURDAY EVENING POST Tu New Standard Eight con- forms to the most modern ideas of motor-car vogue. Its lines and appointments are artistic, dignified, and in good form. Underneath its hood are eight powerful cylinders waiting for the touch of the throttle to assert their supremacy over the steepest of hills or the most difficult of driving emergencies To sit at the wheel of a Stand- ard Eight, over roads of your own selection, is the only way fully to appreciate what is meant by Standard Eight Power. Arrange with the nearest dealer for a demonstration. iegraets

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a youthful face, keen, rather cold blue eyes that seemed to see farther than eyes are meant to see, and a determined chin. Cabell hesitated between an ecstatic rush to him, with a lifting of her flowerlike face for a kiss—-the expression is hers—and a sweet shyness. Before she could make up her mind he had swung across the room, taken her hand in a hearty grip, said “Well, Cabell?" and turned to the boy. There was na time to say anything. The man actually seemed interested in Doug, who couldn't do more than half grin and look foolish ‘Murphy's out stumping for me to-night against Clarkson,” said the c andidate when they were presently all seated. “One of those affairs where the populace asks ques- tions afterward. I'd back Murph’ against any man in the world on that. His Irish will make ’em laugh so they'll forget it if he doesn’t know the answer. Clarkson's the kind that gets mad. Heard they lined up the Fifth Ward solid for Woodward. Looks a little as though I'd lose in my own county, but Murph’ said last week that the northern part of the state was mine sure.” “Pretty even race,” commented Mrs, Smith, and they talked of it eagerly, appar- ently forgetting there were such things as en A young daughter “Who are you running against?” dered Douglas Cabell laughed prettily. She didn’t know, either, but it looked awful not to. Mrs. Smith said she must make him read the papers intelligently. * Christie Woodw: urd, Nice fellow, Doug. Don't knew anybody I'd rather see gover- nor—excepting your humble servant — than Chris Woodward. That's what makes beat- ing him so hard. Nothing against him.” “If it were his cousin ~"’ began Mrs. Smith. “Oh—Lance Christie! Different as chalk from cheese.” The name brought Cabell fromthedreams the dullness of the conversation had evoked. ‘*Lance Christie!’’ she repeated involun- tarily. “You know, Cabell. Red Cross rooms.” “I see the young rascal at their head- quarters every now and then—Lance, not his wife. I'll take you with me, Doug, one of on days.” “Oh, boy! Can I run ‘the ear? The shrilling of the telephone bell broke in on Mr. Brewster's easy assent. Cabell and Douglas both leaped to the co neery and there was a swift altercation before Cabell, who held the receiver, was able to reach the transmitter Douglas clutched, and give a honeyed “ Hel-lo-o!” into it. “Cabell! Douglas, let your sister have it. Aren't you ashamed?’ blun- His wife opened the 9” “Oh!""—a_ decidedly downwi ard inflee- tion. ‘Yes, he’s here. Doug!’ “T toldja it was my call. . . . "Lo. Uh-huh!” The boy turned his back on them and pressed the transmitter close over his lips. le tried to keep his voice low, and his replies unintelligible. One foot beat a nerv- ous tattoo on the floor. “Roth expecting something important,’ smiled the parent elect. ‘They know better. One reason I'm glad is because I'll have more time for them.” It wasn’t necessary to mention what she was glad about. “I've had to leave them more or less to their own devices these last ten years. Is Stelle going to call up, Cabell?” ‘I don't know.” It had been fear that Lance Christie would disregard instructions that had sent her scurrying. The uncom- fortably keen eyes of Mr. Brewster made her nervous. It seemed as if he must know whom she had expected. “| got fi’ dollars. I can’t. . . Well, I can’t. I can't help it. . . . I can't if I can’t, can 1?"" Doug's voice was raised in exasperation, and the bridegroom- to-be removed his regard from the daughter to the son. “‘ Doug’s always needing money,” sighed Doug's sister. “‘What the boy does with it is more than I know.” She felt that this was very grown-up. She was rewarded with an electric glance from the keen blue eyes. “T'll come over Douglas jammed the receiver back on its hook and dived into his room. His voice came out desperately. Goin’ out, mom.” “No, Douglas.” THE SATURDAY EVENING POST CABELL DRIVES THE NAIL (Continued from Page 17) “Yes'’m; I’ve got to.” He appeared with his cap and began to skirt the crowded room toward the outer door. “I said ‘No.’” “But, mamma, I tell you I got to! I'll ~ back in a min-nut!”” The boy’s impa- ent eyes sought Mr. Brewster's beseec h- oie, “You make her let me go. You can.’ His fingers fumbled at the knob of the door. “What is it—money?” ““Wallace—please. He mustn’t take it.” Mr. Brewster smiled at her as he rose. ** Leave him to me this time, Shirley. Come out here, Doug. How much?” Douglas drew a quivering breath. “A hundred; I mean, ninety-five. Mom gave me five.”” He showed the bill as confirma- tion. “I can’t tell you about it though. I promised. . Only I might have to go to jail if I don’t get the money.” The man counted out the bills. “Here. Can you settle it for good? And under- stand! After this—cut that out.” “Oh, it isn’t anything you could do twice. It’s not gambling or anything. I won’t— I mean, I will. Thanks.” He started for the elevator. “But I didn’t have to make him tell me about it, Shirley,”’ Wallace Brewster ex- plained later. ‘“‘One of my men will have the whole thing half an hour after I put him on it. Seems an unfair advantage. I'll let you know. Fine boy. Always wanted one like that. Exactly the kind of mother I fancy, too” —with the shadow of a grin on his very young face. Cabell said a publicly sweet farewell to her mother next morning, before she rushed back to the apartment and seized the ringing telephone. Doug had gone out an hour ago. “This is Miss Cabell Smith. . . . Oh, how are you? Why, mamma wants me to lunch with her in town and shop. I’m dining with Mr. Brewster— Wallace Brew- ster, you know; running for governor? So casually! “I'm afraid He was not to be put off like that. The stupendous news of Cabell’s coming rela- tionship to Mr. Brewster—she called him ‘daddy”’ because it sounded intimate added to Lance Christie’s desire for her society. He persuaded her to give him an hour that morning. She met him two blocks below the Strat- ford, her blouse exposing a section of smooth young chest, her nose carefully whitened, her mouth blossoming with a shade of un- natural cerise. She and Stelle had bought the lip sticks weeks ago, but never dared use them. Now Cabell flattered herself she looked sophisticated, ch¢ urming, quite the rival of the women in Lance’s set. She dal- lied lightly with the idea of learning tosmoke cigarettes —the extreme of wickedness. They swung about the outskirts of the city, stopping once at a station for oil. Lance sent a small boy hustling into a near-by store for hot coffee. It was so much more grown-up to have coffee than chocolate sundae, which was what Cabell really wanted. Then they began threading the traffic in the narrow Saturday-crowded streets. Lance was to drop Cabell in the neighbor- hood of Skelton’s. It had been an adventure. Cabell en- joyed exchanging what she thought was clever repartee with a man always described as fast. Besides, wasn’t Lance misunder- stood? She had suspected it yesterday, from the fact that his one mention of Mrs. Christie had been accompanied by a quick turning away of his head, a swift “I can’t talk about her,” and a change of the subject. To-day he got so far as to say that a heaven had opened on his wedding day, but someone pushed the gates shut before he got inside. That sounded touching, even if she wasn't able to puzzle out its meaning. At any rate he hadn't been treated properly. “I know people say a lot of pretty raw things about me. Well—no doubt some of them are true!” bitterly, with the right curl to his lip. Cabell sympathized. She was misunder- stood too. She forgot to duck the French tam to hide her face when they were caught in the next jam, and so suddenly found her- self gazing into a pair of keen cold blue eyes, set in an absurdly youthful face. Her fu- ture parent was sitting in a big car with a number of other men. There was no doubt he had recognized her. Her hands were cold and her throat tight all the way in. What in the world was she going to do? How could she account for it? Oh, dear! Oh, dear! Oh, dear! She said good-by without lingering, jump- ing out of the car and disappearing into Marcey’s swinging doors with a mere “ ’By!” She fairly ran to the waiting room to wash off the cerise and rearrange her blouse. “What's the use, anyway?” she mut- tered almost aloud to her reflection. “He'll go and blab and I might as well be dead. Oh, dear!” She was a little late at Skelton’s. Mrs. Smith was already at their usual table, and the first course was being brought in as Cabell hurried from the elevator. “Missed a car,” she murmured breath- lessly. “TI tried to reach you all morning both at home and at Stelle’s. Stelle said she hadn’t see you.” “Why oo funny! Iwashome. No, I wasn’t. I took a walk and—and just be- fore I came down I was at the park looking up that leaf for botany—the one I told you about.”” Why did she bother to fib? Ina few hours the whole thing would be out. “I wanted you to bring down a piece of that pink chiffon. We might match it in ribbon.” “Oh, mamma, I don’t want that baby kind of dress! Why can’t I havesome style? Goodness, the papers will write up what we wear, I don’t care how informal you are. S'pose I want it blazed all over that I had on a kid dress like a sixteen-year-old?” “You're only seventeen, aren’t you?” “Well, my goodness, there’s some dif- ference!” Her mother smiled. ‘We'll go to Mar- hg and see if they have a little Georgette, then.” Two women took possession of the vacant chairs at their table and private conversa- tion was impossible, even if what they said hadn’t put all minor considerations out of Cabell’s head. “If there isn’t Mrs. Lance Christie!” “Lucky she didn’t see her husband half an — ago. Who was that girl?’ “I don’t know. Did you see the paint on her lips? Chorus, probably. Shame!” Cabell kept the tam ducked to shield her hot face. Another day her mother could not have been blind, but now she was ap- parently deaf also. The girl stole a glance at Lance Christie’s wife. Why, she wasn’t a bit pretty! She didn’t look as if she was anybody. “T heard that her aunt arranged that wedding,” one of Cabell’s neighbors con- fided to the other. “She was brought up in a French convent, and when the Germans began their drive they dragged her—the aunt did, I mean—over here and got her safely married. She had money, and I sup- pose she was accustomed to the French way of having someone else select the man.” “They say Lance was wild about her.” “Yes, indeed. You know how he is—the newest face. And she was different. Looked like a little nun. Remember?” Mrs. Smith touched Cabell’s sleeve and Cabell gladly got away. The afternoon was a blur. The only thing that seemed real was the haunting fear of what Mr. Brewster would do about the drive. She couldn’t have told whether the frock selected was white or purple; or whether or not they finally decided on the serge coat. The rush to the Stratford to dress for dinner and the hurry back to the St. Saen Hotel was one mounting agony. She didn’t even complain about the satin ribbon her mother insisted on tying on her hair— Cabell’s hair. The candidate for governor was waiting for them in one of the parlors, listening to Doug's chatter as if he liked it. He met them eagerly, and had much to say to Mrs. Smith before he turned to Cabell. “Cabell! What have you been doing with yourself all day?” His eyes were colder than ever. Why, she'd been shopping with mamma. “Al day?’ No. They’dlunched together and shopped all afternoon. They’d bought —— “And this morning?” She'd had a lot of little things to do and she'd walked in the park - “Cabell missed her car or we’d have had time to see you before you went over to the capitol,”” put in Mrs. Smith. November 29, 19/9 “So she missed the car, did she?”’ He looked at his future daughter as if he would bore to her very soul, and Cabell’s lids fell over her frightened eyes. He waited until after the meal though. Then: ‘Cabell and I have something to say to each other. Doug can tell you what we've been doing all afternoon, Shirley.” Mamma couldn't be in love with the man or she’d object, and not sit there stupidl satisfied. Oh, dear! Oh, dear! Cabell lagged to the door of the empty writing room, feeling none of the thrill that would have been hers last night if he’d stood aside then for her to enter, in this gallant fashion. A fountain splashed beneath a circle of green lights. Beyondshining desksstretched in orderly rows about the walls. Mr. Brew- ster installed her at one and drew up a chair to face her. ‘‘Look at me, please. What were you doing with Lance Christie?” Cabell tried to smile. Her fingers picked at the babyish frills on her skirt. “‘ With— a—Lance Christie?” “You understand what I say, I think.” “Why, he—I happened to meet him and he asked me if I’d—I’d ride down—and I did.” “You knew him?” ““N—yes. I—Stelle had a cousin from Camberley over last week and—he knew Mr. Christie, and when the three of us were coming in from the ball game—he—hap- pened to get on the same car—and—we met.” P “Have you gone driving with him be- ore?”’ “Oh, no! I wasn’t driving with him this time. We only we just —— “You needn’t trouble to fib. You were driving with him this morning. Do you know that he is a married man, with an unsavory reputation?” “People say things about him. They don't have to be true.” “But you admit you know he’s married?” “Well, can’t you speak to a man if he’s married? I'd have thought you would be broader than that. Nowadays you don’t go into retreat if you are married. Can't a man have a friend “No. He can’t sneak about with a de- cent girl. I'm not telling you anything new. You know you're not acting squarely or you wouldn't hide it. There must be some- thing to you, with that mother. You can’t be a sham through and through.” “You've no right to insult me because you're bigger and stronger.”” She had read that, and it came in pat. “Aside from his being married he’s not the kind of man for you to be seen with. Need I make that plainer? Now remember this: You are not to see, speak to, write to or communicate with Lance Christie. Is that clear?” “I don’t see that it’s your business.” “Whether you see or not is immaterial. Kindly note that I'll know it, and I can be really unpleasant if I try.””. He looked more than mivenntl. “There are schools where pupils who need it can be watched.” She tried weeping and she tric j storming, with no impression. His one remark in the next half hour was to the effect that he hoped the decent thing in her would come to the top soon. He was a brute. She hoped she could pay him out for it some day. How she would enjoy it! He did not insist on a promise. Indeed he gave her to understand that a promise from her had no weight. She couldn’t enjoy the play that wound up the evening. More than that, she couldn’t enjoy the mild sensation their en- trance ina family party made. She was taken up with hating Wallace Brewster. Even the knowledge that what she wore was being noted for the papers failed to in- terest her. Some day, possessed of an un- defined power over him, she’d make Wallace Brewster beg for mercy, and then she'd jaugh, a hollow mirthless laugh and refuse! The lesson at church next morning was about one Jael, who rid herself and her peo- ple of an enemy by running a nail through his head. Cabell wished things were as simple as that now. She wouldn’t have minded driving nails all over her future stepfather. Stelle walked home with her. She had more than one thing to communicate to Cabell, and they lingered on the drive until Douglas came down for his sister. Continued on Page 79)

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| | a a ae as et Snes nee ae) Continued from Page 76 “Mamma, did you know why Doug wanted that money?” burst out Cabell when the two were alone. **]—heard.”’ “‘Heard that he and his bunch stole the mayor’s car and smashed it up and had to pay to get it fixed or go to Jail?”’ in one horrified, amazed breath **Something like that.” “Mamma! And you don’t care? Stelle told me. Shesaw themsmash up. Stole it!” “Mr. Brewster took the matter up with Douglas, Cabell.” ‘He knew—and didn’t make a fuss? Well!”” She couldn’t go on. It was too unfair. He thought it was all right for Douglas to run off with a car and nearly go to jail, but if she rode with a man who — a pitiful joy in her society —— Yes, that was another thing! He was unjust, soa a bully and a brute. She threw herself into a mission chair and picked up the Sunday paper. She prayed for the nail to be delivered into her hand. She'd use it. No fear she wouldn't use it. The sheet she had been staring at became all at once intelligible. There was an article about the gubernatorial candidates: “The entire outcome of the election*de- pends on the Camberley County vote. The man who swings Camberley has the state.’”’ If she only had the Camberley County vote in her possession how gladly she would hand it to Christie Woodward and defeat the autocratic Brewster! What pleasure was there in being a governor’s daugh- ter? He wouldn't let her enjoy it. Any- way, she wanted to hurt him. It ought to hurt him worse than anything not to be elected. . Only she didn’t have the vote Douglas came in bubbling with excite- ment. He and dad had been over to Cam- berley and he'd driven the car. Gee, it was great! They'd had a big mass meeting and dad told ema few. Say, did they know our party had a big electric sign on top of Marcey’s with “ Brewster: Prosperity and Peace’’ on it? You ought to see it flash on and off! They'd plastered the whole country with bills about dad too. And say, know what kind of stunt Murph was pull- ing to-morrow night? Going to stand on top of the City Hall with a megaphone and make a speech. Doug was going to go with him and throw down bombs with campaign literature in them. Wasn’t that a big little old idea? He'd say it was! Cabell leaned back in her chair and smiled a cynical smile. She observed that in her opinion Woodward would swing Camberley and that settled the election. “But get what you can out of it,”’ she advised languidly. Her mother stopped reading, and Doug whirled round. “Like fun Woodward's got Camberley! We got it in our pocket right now. Guess you haven't seen the papers. Gee, that rotten sheet! Y'ought to read the Times. The n you'd get the de ope. "¥6 ‘The race is unusually even,”’ commented Mrs. Smith. ‘We can’t claim Camberley yet, I’m afraid.” ‘Dad says the least little thing’ll sweep ’em one way. If we knew what they'll do in the big strike we’d have ’em— or if they got hold of our position on the Right of Way Over Public Property Bill! That’s a bi g thing toC amberley.’ ‘‘What is our position?” asked Cabell eagerly. She hadn't the ghost of an idea of what a right of way might be or how it could affect an election. Douglas was vague. He didn’t like to admit that he didn’t know. But gee, girl, th ‘in k we'd let those birds know? Not by a whole lot! Dad can get by without letting out anything he don’t want known. “‘Mr. Brewster isn’t dad yet—if ever.” “Sure he is. I asked him. He likes it. You can call him it if you want. I’m going to have his little auto for mine, and work in his office when I’m out of school, and lots of times I'll chauf for him.” “You're his pet!” flared Cabell, and slammed into her own cubicle. Doug could do anything and have everything. She couldn’t even choose her own friends. She’d run over to Stelle’s and She escaped without telling more than one white lie, and minced off down the lighted avenue. High hedges shut in most of the houses on the block, and great trees roofed the sidewalks. Leaves drifted down and formed crackling piles underfoot. The bitter-sweet smell of frost was in the air. Cabell snuggled into the new coat, let her deep into the soft collar and chin sink THE SATURDAY stepped to a new Marseillaise. Wallace Brewster was the Tyrant and she the Brave. When the election returns were in and the autocrat found himself beaten, and was sunk into his chair, head bowed in inglorious defeat, she would calmly announce that it was to her he owed his bitter failure. It was an evidence of her power. Perhaps after this he’d have pause before he took that high and mighty tone with her. “‘ Have pause’’——that was pretty good. A car stopped gratingly and a voice drawled: ‘In a dashing rush, little pal?’’ She had almost passed him, but she came back at once, the fase inating smile in play, her walk superelegant. ‘‘ Mr. Christie!” He took her outstretched hand and kept it, warming it between both of his. ‘‘ What made you run away from me yesterday?” His voice sounded like a warm sea, lapping her round. ‘Oh, yes, youdid! Afraid to be seen with me by any of these good people?” She denied that. Heavens!—they all said ‘‘Heavens!”’ in books—did he think she was so narrow? Really, she rather enjoyed shocking these good people. They both intimated that being good was tire- some, prov incial and common. ‘How about a little spin?” Oh, no, she couldn’t. She was just going to Stelle’s and mamma might call up over there and—well, ten minutes, then; not more. It was not much more, even though in the time it was necessary to confide the hateful story of Wallace Brewster's tyranny, and arrange a method of communication. Letters could be sent through Stelle. When the car drew up before Stelle’s ivy-hung dwelling Cabell was beginning to enjoy her martyrdom. It made her a hero- ine—a properly persecuted heroine. She considered whether or not it might be even more romantic to have a secret code. You couldn’t signal with lights from an apart- ment window. In the first place the lights weren’t movable, and in the next it would be an endless job to count the scores of windows to find hers! Again that odd long look, that gleam of white teeth in the dark, that ‘‘Good night, little pal!’’ What a lot she had to tell Stelle! She was halfway up the terrace steps be- fore she recognized the man coming down the flight leading to the ivy-clad porch. She felt, as she told Stelle afterward, ‘‘full of frozen screams.”” The man was Wallace Brewster. “I told Shir— your mother — I'd call for you. It appears that I’m a bit previous.” She said *‘ Not at all!’ with a well-done shrug, and they proceeded to march down the street, shoulder to shoulder. They had reached the avenue before either spoke. Then he said with a frown that was evide ont even in the dark: ‘‘I don’t suppose you're actually in love with that—man!” Ap- pare ntly adjectives failed him. ‘In love!” That hadn’t occurred to her. She had been taken up with her daring in associating with the notorious Lance Christie, and with the novel position of little pal to a misunderstood soul. “Not tha su know how to love any- body. You a too selfish to be capable of the real thing.” Selfish! The idea! She drew herself up. “You don’t understand!"’—pityingly. How could he hope to comprehend the beautiful relations of Lance and herself? ‘Don’t understand? I understand the sort of man who calls a girl ‘pal’ because it’s a neutral word that means anything and nothing. Ought to be abolished from the language. The use of it stamps a man for what he is. Of course you think he’s madly in love with you—the world well lost and all the at. That's what you think k now. Wait till it’s too late. You haven't got the real thing, and you wouldn’t know what to do with it if you had.” ‘‘Love has nothing to do with it! Old people always think a man can’t look ata girl and a girl can’t have a man friend un- less it’s something like that. But we mod- ernists are—are different.”” She ended weakly, because she wasn’t sure of ‘‘mod- ernists.”” She and Stelle had come across it in br magi: izine. ‘Then it won't matter to you if you never see him again,’ the candidate for state honors observed after a pause, during which Cabell worried over the selection of ‘‘modernist.’”” Maybe he was laughing at he rT. “It will matter to him! “T shan’t lose sleep on that account.’ They had r: ached the drive and ial at the gate, Cabell picking at the drying ”” EVENING POST leaves on the spireas, the man boring holes in the gravel with his cane “It will mean that a man who might be—-be helped, will go straight to the dogs! You don’t know what my being nice to him stands for. Just because everybody else gives him a push you want me to throw stones too. You want me to help send him to—hell!” She half whispered the last word. Her eloquence brought tears to her eyes. He didn’t seem impressed. “I don’t care where you send him. Seems to me that’s his wife’s business anyway. I never had any sympathy for those fellows who had to be coddled along step by step. If he’s fond of dogs he'll probably find his way to them without assistance.” “It’s a matter between myself and my own conscience” gre andly. His glance was quizzical. ways there are for convincing ours¢ it’s right to do wrong!” “You're not fair. You let Doug do any- thing. You let him steal and —and every- thing!”’ “No, I don’t. Doug is to earn and pay back every cent. He wants to.’ “Oh, yes, Doug is perfection! to tyrannize over me, that’s all. You want to show you can boss me. Take away my friends and lock me up in school You think you'll break my spirit. But you won't! I can write to him. You can’t in- terfere with his mail.” “Perhaps your mother may hit on a ” “What a lot of Ives that You want plan — “Oh, tell her! I don’t expect you to have any honor. Tell her right now. With the whole world against me I won't give him up! “Do you know you're very Cabell?” “Am I? I would be to you. You're the kind who laughs at a broken hear crushingly, as she marched to the entrance, chin held high He followed in silence. She couldn’t de- cide whether he wes angry or amused, but she wouldn't let him think she cared. She chatted brightly to Walker, to whom her new relationship gave her a real standing at last. Douglas sprang at them. “Say, the Times called up, dad. They got to have something fr ym you about the strike. I'll get 'em on the wire. Main Five Woodward's come out with a string of soft-soap promises that'll haul in votes wholesale. . . . Times? Say, I got Governor Brewster here for you... . Yeh; Governor—that’s what Rania. . . « Here, dad.” Cabell slipped into her own room and locked the door. She'd never lower herself by calling the monster ‘“‘daddy”’ now! If he was elected she'd call him ‘Your Ex cellency'’—like that, distantly. If not she supposed ‘‘ Mr. Brewster’’ would have to do. It wasn’t so effective. She wondered what mamma would say about Lance a Old people never understood. They s¢ car fully taught you to “ kind to everybody and do unto others and all that, and when it came right down to it ney went out of their way to make you stop! Stop doing the very identical things they'd pounded into you all your life! She took off the stupid girlish challis and put on a negligée. Anybody can look sophisticated in a negligée with her hair down and really nifty slippers—she and Stelle had exchanged birthday presents of slippers allowing the other to choose her own. Let Wallace Brewster demand her in there and he'd see thar she wasn't the infant her mother preter ind Of course it would probably shock that lady uneon scious. He didn’t demand her. Cabell waited sometimes high-hearted and defiant, plan ning to burst into the room with a ringing laugh; sometimes chilly with fear, when the thought of crossing the threshold was a stark impossibility. And nobody disturbed her. The little ivory clock on her dressing funny, to work and table crawled from ten to eleven. She heard doors open and shut and the gradual cessation of voices. And silence. At length she opened her door. Thelivi room was dark. Doug's room showed no light. Her mother’s was also wrapped in gloom “‘Want anything, Cabe “N-no, nothing.” “Do go to bed, child early and finish studying.” It was clear he hadn't told. She crept into bed uneasily. He wanted to play with Wo" You can get up 79 her, like a snake with a charmed bird. Well, he'd discover what kind of partner he had in that game. The thought of the Camber- ley vote. came bedi k temptingly. If she just knew what his pay wus on that right of way, and what to do with it ‘ Lance! Why didn't she ask Lance? His cousin was the opponent. He ought to know She could hardly go to sleep for thinking of it. She'd get Stelle to mail a letter to Lance, telling him to meet her. Let’s see Better not go out,in the ear. Somebody would be sure to see ar te tl. Wh y not have tea together at Serodir They had booths like little private rooms ‘and they could go in separately. The very thing Wallace Brewster had met his match! She made the appointment for Tuesday afternoon. She was supposed to be at Stelle’s, and Stelle had instructions to say she was there but couldn't come to the phone just now ‘Tell them I've swallowed wrong and can’t speak, and I'll call up. Then phone me right away and I'll eall from there. I don’t know what on earth anybody'd phone for, but they might. If you get Vergil write it out for me . « Oh, I'm so excited!" The loyal Stelle was no less so. “ You'll come back here and tell me the whole thing? I can’t wait aren't you sort of afraid of Lance Christie? He's got such an awful name. My cousin says he don’t know whether he ought to have intro- duced us that day.” Cabell executed her favorite shrug and Goodness, Cabell, She was going to be very casual about entering Serodino’s-—just saunter in as if attracte i by something in the window or as if she thought about something else. She practiced sauntering down Fourth Street, with side glances at the wink low mirrors to observe the effect of Stelle’s mother’s new hat, which she had confiscated for the meet ing. It hada delightful stick-up that added to her height. She bought a spray of scarlet salvia and thrust it into the belt of her suit. The casual entrance being effected she slipped into the third booth. Three is a symbolic number. Lance Christie hadn't come, but it wasn’t time. She took out her vanity case and applied the cerise stick to her lips and the powder to her nose and waited. Still he didn't come The waitress asking again for her order awed her into having an éclair, Cabell ate itinarush. It would look so odd for her to be eating if he came; and it was such a messy thing. She had to fix her lips all over again. She had made the hour three-thirty. At four-thirty she put on Stelle’s mink scarf and fastened her coat. He couldn't have had the letter But as she rose she saw the lew red car draw up outside and Lance swing across the pavement He met her with well- mulated amazement “Tf it isn’t my little pal! doing here?” taking her back to the with an imperiou l¢ one porn He it meant to be late. It was this last vi al a rush of the election. What would she have? Tea? Tea was all the go on the Continent. He rather liked it. So she had tea and a salad, because salads are more grown-up than ice cream It was hard to get started about the re- venge. Lance apparently thought her in- vitation a longing for his What are vou booth Waiter, ple: ase!"’ over commendable society. When she finally came to the point he seemed doubtful “* Ve'd like to have the file —we'd finish in a blare of glor But | believe Woodie will beat Brewster anyway If you hud the papers you could mail ‘em to our hea iquarters to Clarkson He never lets his conscience overwork. Still, you ean't get ‘em.” ‘Where woul 1 they be? What would they look like?’ He wasn't clear. There would probably be a private file of papers on the right of Way metning definite as to vuld let the railroads put a spur whether Brewster w tra ove land belonging to the public thus cutting off teamsters from the river and making boat loading difficult in high water “We don't know which way he'll jump. We're pretty sure it’s the wrong way politi- cally or he’d have come out with it. We've insil lated, but that doesn't prove any- thing. The file might be in his private safe ‘His private afe!"’ It might as well be f London Continued on Page 81 the Tower

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80 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST November 29,1919 yy

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ee Continued from Page 79 “Of course we're for the railroads. W oodie’s been counsel for them so long, you KNOW bay Cabell didn’t know, but she didn’t reveal her ignorance, “Why don’t you run up to his office and act as if you were intimate with him before the office force, and get on the inside?”’ Yes, why didn’t she hobnob with the crowned heads of Europe—what there are left of them? She let the conversation drift to person- He had a great deal to say about his wasted past—old stuff, but new to Cabell. He'd give a year of his life to be able to face Cabell with the knowledge that there was nothing to regret. She toyed with her salad, and managed to intimate that there were dark moments in her own long life best left unmentioned. The clock struck five and the streets filled with people. Lights sprang up magically everywhere. Lance left hurriedly. Before he went he bent over her, with that flash of white teeth, and she drew away quickly. He laughed, but he didn’t press the point. She stayed a moment longer, removing the cerise and wrestling with her gloves. She told herself she was a fool to act so. According to her favorite screen dramas that was the natural thing for him to do. Ought she to have let him? He’d know now she was nothing but a school kid. She couldn’t mince along now. She had to get to Stelle’s and home. She squeezed onto a crowded car, and ran up the side street to Stelle’s. As she dashed along a girl came out of a hedged-in garden and collided with her. They both said: ‘Oh pardon me!”’ and caught at their hats. It wasn’t a girl at all. It was Mrs. Lance Christie It bothered Cabell all the rest of the way. She looked nice, not the way you imagine a wife whose husband isn’t appreciated. And she looked as if she’d been educated in a convent, too—so sort of fresh and holy. ““Made me feel a thousand years old!” Cabell said half aloud. It wasn’t a com- fortable feeling. No use saying it’s life, and life’s bitter. She and Stelle often told one another that, but it didn’t help now. Mrs. Lance had such straight-glancing eyes. Did she look at Lance that way? A chill went over her at the thought of meet- ing those eyes if the lady knew. Maybe it was a bit hard for a girl brought up in a convent to understand a man as exotic as Lance. ‘ Exotic’’—that was a good word. She resolved to look it up to-morrow. “There must be some good in you some- where!”’ Fora moment Cabell thought the words had been spoken aloud. She hesi- tated at the foot of Stelle’s steps. “You can't be all a sham!” It seemed as if not Wallace Brewster but Mrs. Lance Christie was saying it—not contemptuously, but pleadingly, as if eager that the sentiment be true. Cabell looked up at the half dozen pinpricks of light in the cloudy sky. They didn’t look like stars to- night. They were millions of miles away and unreachable. The gray fleece of the clouds would blot them out presently. Stelle opened the door and dashed out. “What are you mooning about, Cab? Here, give me mum’s hat quick! She’s in there. We'd better scoot in the side door and you can get your things. Nobody’s called up, and I’m about to lose my mind on the math problems. We'll have to get ‘em from Joe Terrill. Do tell me every- thing!” Well, Lance had been very interesting, but it was late. Cabell would have to go into details to-morrow. She put on the French tam and picked up her books. “Stelle! Oh—Estelle! Is Cabell there? Someone on the phone for her!” caine the voice of Stelle’s busy mother. “Yes, she’s just going. I let ’em think you were up here. I’ve been talking to my- self out loud all afternoon!” giggled Stelle. Cabell giggled, too, but it didn’t sound so funny as usual. “Hello? Oh, mamma, I’m just leaving. . . . We were studying and we can’t get mathand weforgotthetime. .. . Yes, right away. I’ve got my things on. "By.” Her face was crimson. Ordinarily she would have considered that she had done something commendable in thus reply- ing, but not to-night. Some of the stars were gone. No doubt the clouds would smother every one. Poor stars! Once, way before the war, a girl in a convent may have looked at those stars. . . . Five years ago! Cabell had been a child. She shrugged again. Had alities. THE SATURDAY she ever been so innocent as Mrs. Lance Christie looked? The remembrance of Lance’s attempted kiss came back, sending a hot wave over her. Was there any good in her? Was she reallyasham? Asham! That was an ugly word. She hardly noticed Walker. The sicken- ing thought had come to her that it was true. She didn't love Lance Christie—-at least, how did you know? Yet she was de- liberately taking him from his wife. Prob- ably he was wild about Cabell—-wanting to kiss her and all. She’d ruined his life and she didn’t want him. She was--as she had suspected, and told Stelle often—-cold and heartless, a Cleopatra or George Sand or one of those women who break men’s hearts— no, that was the Lorelei. They'd had them—her—in lit last week. After dinner, while Douglas alternately scowled over his books and brought up various sound reasons why he ought to be campaigning with dad instead, Cabell looked up the Lorelei. Stelle had found the refer- ence and as usual forgotten to note where. Only the poem, copied in Stelle’s flowing hand, with the long tails to the y’s and wide tops to the t’s, rewariled her search: The most beautiful maid is reclining On the rocks, so wondrous fair; He Tr glorious je we ls are sh ining, She is combing her golde n hair; With a golden comb she combs it, And sings a song there by, That thrills with its mystic meaning And wonderful me lody. It seizes with wildest yearning The boatman, entranced in his skiff; He sees not the treacherous breakers He gazes alone on the cliff. And soon will the waves engulf them, Both boat and boatman strong, For thus in her toils hath she bound them, The Lorelei with her song! It might have been written especially for Cabell—-that bit about the golden hair and her singing. She'd always wanted to have her voice cultivated, only mamma was so fussy about her studying anything but les- sons. If she couldn’t get those half the time what chance was there of doing justice to vocal work, argued Mrs. Smith. As if voice culture was work! Maybe Lance felt that way—you know—wild yearning. It was thrilling to think about. “Mom, can I go with dad to the labor meeting Thursday night? CanI1?” “Does he want you?”’ Mrs. Smith didn’t look up from the list she was preparing for the wedding announcements. “Sure. He's going to get in from the north ‘long about eight and I got to rush him to the hall. Clarkson had that Quick- silver fellow spillin’ it into the labor unions to-day—and gee, if that man wasn'tsmooth! I shinned up a post and listened on the fire escape. Oh, baby! He got me going so I almost believed him myself. I beat it to dad’s office and told him, and dad and Murph got on the job, and boys, oh boys, we've got some hot shot! . . Why, I ain’t hurting your old table!” “Your shoes are. Put them on the floor. Right down, Douglas! I suppose you may go if dad said so. Cabell, what’s Marian Hastings’ new address? Oakley or Oak- land? Oh, yes! . . . By the way, come to the office after school to-morrow. I’m having some white kid slippers sent in from the wholesale house and you can try them on. Oh, and Cabell! Wal- lace—dad wants you to have a gift from him—both of you—-whatever you want. You may choose it yourself.” “Any mortal thing?” Her mother nodded abstractedly. “Then I want earrings—long ones, in jade.” “Cabell! I meant anything in reason.”’ “Well, I think that’s reasonable. Good- ness, it’s what I want, isn't it?) My heart, you'd think I’d asked for poison!” “Oh, you vamp!” “Never mind, Douglas. Think it over, Cabell, and select something you can wear. A pretty pin or ring or a girlish necklace.” “Oh-—girlish! I'd just as soon not have anything!"’ Cabell flounced into her room and sulked over the Vergil Stelle had written out wrong. If she couldn’t have earrings she'd havearing with a perfectly e-nor-mous stone—long, you know, reaching to her finger joint. Maybe she ought not to take Wallace Brewster's jewels. He said she was no good—that is, he said there must be some good in her; meant the same thing. Well, he was wrong—right—oh, dear! She couldn’t help being fascinating, could she? EVENING POST Asham! Did Mrs. Lance Christie think so too? What did it matter if she did? She'd have to learn some day that nothing’s very nice in this old world. Stelle and Cabell had known that since sophomore year. They frequently shook their heads over it : What on earth made Stell translate like that? Now you couldn’t trust to luck on any of it. But all through the feverish haste of get ting a passable rendering the word “sham” persisted. Maybe it wasn't smart to ‘‘em- bellish the golden truth,” as Stelle put it Sham—sham—sham! In desperation she borrowed Doug's pocket dictionary and hunted the definition. “A trick, fraud, make-believe, counter feit."". Her cheeks flamed and she lost the place. The word “sincere” leaped at her That meant “genuine, upright, honest.” Cabell dropped the book with a bang. Mrs. Smith was guiding her successor through the mazes of the private ledger | when Cabell arrived, and merely nodded at the white boxes on her desk, so Cabell made her own selection. They had the sparklingest buckles—they were going to wear buckles again —and white chiffon rose buds. They were darling. Her mother absently choice. Her mind was on something els« **Cabell—let’s see: You know dad’s office is?” “Mr. Brewster, do you mean? In the Cole Blo« k.”” “Yes. Do you think you could take a packet to him right away? He left it by mistake and he needs it. He sent a mes senger, but goodness knows what has be- come of him. He must have it at once. You won't stop for anything, will you?’ “Oh, do I have to? Help!” “Cabell!” “Well, I'm going. But I’m not crazy about it.” Cabell jerked the laces of her school shoes into a knot crossly. “Give it to dad—nobody else.” “Oh, all right. I'll give it to Mr Brewster.” Now was the opportunity, wasn’t it She could lose the important packet and get revenged. It would be pleasanter to do something he couldn't trace to her. Her feet found their way to the Cole Block, and presented her at the door of the candidate’ suite. It occupied the fourteenth floor —a model in green rugs and shining mahogany, lights dispersed evenly from beautiful hang ing bowls, partitions of steel made to re semble mahogany, with frosted glass tops, and men—men at the laden desks, men at the giant filing cabinets, men at the book- cases lining the walls, men at the endless telephones. One of them came to meet her, and it was suddenly an enchanting adventure. He treated her as she liked being treated, as if she were a visiting princess. He didn’t ask who she was. Cabell wondered if he knew from the picture the Sunday papers carried in connection with the announcement of Wallace Brewster’s engagement. Or if he’d seen her at the theater Saturday. The simple explanation of her mother’s mes- sage that Cabell was on her way didn't occur to her. “Mr. Brewster will see you at once, Mi Smith. Will you come with me?” Other men glanced up as they passed That their interest was due more to the fact that their chief was to marry her approved the where mother than to her own prettiness didn't dawn on Cabell. Mr. Brewster was with a long, loose- jointed man who appeared half buried in campaign literature. What Doug called the map of Ireland was on his face. They both showed the effect of too little sleep, too much work and the long strain “Draw another five hundred for him, then. He'll have to make a whirlwind dash if he’s going to do anythi r, but every chance is one more. . . . Cabell! Much obliged. Sit down while I look it over P My little girl, Murp! ae ae Believe I ean give Quicksilver a knockout if I pull that profit-sharing plan at the mass meet- ing. . . . That forme?” The candidat yanked an extension phone nearer ” Murphy dragged himself from the litho- graphs and print and smiled at Cab **Hear you're to lead the younger set at the Capital this winter. “‘Oh—I don’t graduate till June.” ‘‘Next year, then, Lucky divils!”’ He intimated Irishly that her path would bv strewn with men’s broken hearts. Cabell blushed and dimpled. She had an answer ready and Murphy’s 81 PTS Ce bak * You'll Have Countless Uses for These =: x 5 a ae “* “ « & : be er of Steel ' a : In or hon in th irag "” ‘xs , / . a rl tac y, th r u ts f K Devi P 1} \“ ery Ce] | ! ls Use x i t \ hip, “Red Dev lo t possibly i | by In they = Se , t a ni = xample, the | f “Red | Dev Phi hit the hand igh ind d t pinch PLIERS Pye. mR Sites Sa: No. 1024 eR: =~ ey Az owes Bethe. > ce oe Te Te YS Bed. a Bi ; + SMITH & HEMENWAY CO. 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constant! e felt she was a iugh rose SUCCES She would be able to conduct a sort of salon next winter. Younger set, indeed! You're turning the child’s head. Don’t notice him, Cabell. He's Irish and can’t help it She's a littl girl, Murph, and she'll be at school for the next three years.” Hie crossed the room to the safe, whose hick outer doors stood wide open, and hrust a key into the thin inner one A totally unnecessary remark, when she was proving herself so irresistible! Her inger rose again, and she moved toward him impulsively. The safe, unlocked, dis closed row of files below the cash box, third from the ‘Right of Way, labs led The marked each carefully right was plainly Public Landing.” Yes, there it was and there it was likely to stay She watched her future parent put away the packet she had brought, relock the safe, take his hat from a mahogany stand and stride to the door “Come, Cabell! Got to talk to Judge Cobb case, Murph. You to headquarters and r will fall Peters about the nad better get doing back Afraid Dudley we what’ lown on us, Oh, the phone! Hello! Yes, coming. This minute. : Come on, quick, before someone else stops is.” He hurried them out unceremoni ously, one hand on Cabell’s shoulder. To help out the picture of devotion Cabell couldn't help looking up at him with the fascinating smile. For two minutes at any rate she’d play the part of lovely pam- pered daughter to the governor. They parted at the door of the Cole Block, Mr. Brewster directing that she run right home now and get her lessons. In- sulting! If she could just pay him back! She didn't know afterward how the idea occurred to her. It was suddenly there, full-grown, and she acted on it without waiting for second thought. She hurried back to the offices they had just left, demanded the secretary to Mr. Brewster, put on the expression of inno- ‘ence embarrassed getting to be too well <nown among the faculty at and said that daddy had sent her back for the papers about the right of way to something achool wother. They were his safe, in the ti ird pigeonhole. Could she please have them at once? A dreadful fear that the safe couldn’t be opened in Mr. Brewster's absence died at the alacrity with which the unsuspicious youth unlocked it and found the precious packet “Could you put it in a big envelope? Andsealit? Andhurry! Daddy's waiting.” He could and did, Cabell flashed him her prettiest smile and darted out again. She did not pause at the street door this time. She went at once to the post office to address the sealed « nvelope, When she was at the family table that evening the first misgiving smote her. Wouldn't the secretary immediately men tion having given her the papers? She put fown her fork “What is it, ¢ well done?” sitting abell? Isn’t your meat “No it’s all right.” “Eat it, then You’ re ally must stop stuffing yourself with those abominable sundaes. You and Stelle won't have a com- ple xion between you when you're twenty.” ‘Gee, Lforgot! Ste lle told me to be sure and give you this, Cab!” Douglas ex- ended a much handled envelope. ‘She's ot a new dress or hat or something to show If you want me to I'll drive you over there in my ear.” He made the offer with elaborate one eye on his mother His sister made no immediate reply. Slitting the grimy envelope had disclosed a second one, inscribed in a masculine hand, What did Lance want? “You may go over for a little while, Cabell, if you and Stelle have lessons. Douglas will call for you. I shall be at the Metropolitan.”” Mr. Brewster was speak- ng there. Cabell agreed listlessly. Everything de- pended on what Lance had to say. W hat he had to say was not enlightening. He must see Cabell. Could she manage to yet out to-morrow night fora ride? It was important. He'd meet her in the park by the fountain. Please come. He was her devoted pal. Oh, she couldn't be bothered with him! Maybe for what she'd done Mr. Brewster could send her to a reform school, and everybody would know it and she'd you casual- ness, THE SATURDAY be disgraced forever! What had made her do such an idiotic thing? She began fran- tically to think of ways for undoing it. ‘Doug,”’ she said when they were seated side by side in the auto, “take me round by the post office.” She’d demand the return of the envelope. “ Right Watch her spin. Say, know how many miles she can do?” Cabell didn’t, and she didn’t listen when she was elaborately told. Her mind was fixed on repairing wrongs. Why had she deliberately gone on proving that her new parent was right about there being no good in her —after she’d admitted to herself that she was a sham? If she ever got this straightened out she'd tell the truth, and let other people’s husbands alone, and study her own lessons and—-and even wear the terrible girlish models mamma was always picking out! Followed by Douglas’ brotherly “Get a move on! Don’t be lollygagging in there all night!"’ Cabell hurried into the almost deserted post office. Fear and hope lent wings to her feet. When she came out she walked as if her knees were shaking. They were. Nobody in the post office knew anything about the envelope; nor could they offer suggestions for its return. Cabell gathered that once committed to the charge of Uncle Sam a piece of mail goes on to the bitter end. You can no more take it back than you can tempt the moving finger of Fate to erase what it has written. ‘Hey, Cab! Come on, for Pete’s sake! You're getting my engine hot.” She came, and sank into the vacant seat without even a fleeting thought of how she was like a crushed flower or a bird with broken wings. The thing was too real for you that. She couldn't go to Stelle’s. She wanted to go home. She didn’t feel well. She hadn't the heart to quarrel with Douglas about changing her mind or make any reply to his taunt about girls never knowing what they wanted anyway. She could hardly wait to get back to the Strat- ford to throw herself on her pink-and-white bed to ery. And then she couldn’t cry. It was too dreadful for tears. She got up and looked at herself in the mirror. To-morrow everybody in the world would look at her picture—the horrid one they’d used last Sunday that made her look about twelve! — and say what a shame it was that a girl with such a nice mother was like that. She was a nice mother. She'd earned their living as far back Cabell could remember —cheerfully, cap- ably and successfully. She never wanted anyone to be sorry for her, though she worked so hard. Sometimes at night too. Pa it winter Doug broke his arm and had to be amused, and mamma came home with something gorgeously interesting every night. That year Cabell was so ill, and mamma had stayed up with her night after night, and gone to work day after day, because so much money was going for doctors and that nurse Cabell was so hate- ful to. They lived over on State Street then, in a little bit of a flat. Now for the first time mamma was going to get something out of life. Wallace Brewster wanted to be governor and mamma was to be his lady. And Cabell had deliberately ruined his chances and dis- graced the family! In their funny way she supposed mamma and Mr. Brewster were in love. They never said anything about it—at least not to Cabell. They didn’t behave as lovers did in books. Well, after the papers came out to-morrow no doubt all happiness was over forever for them all. She heard Doug dart in in a tearing hurry, and knew it must be late. Doug had seen mamma coming. Cabell got into her nightdress wearily and put out her light. Then she raised the window, hardly notic- ing the bitter wind that had risen and blew upon her. Afar off the light in a clock tower shone like a gold star. They put gold stars into service flags when soldiers were dead. But nobody'd want to put any kind of star out for her. Mr. Brewster did not come up with his fiancée, and Cabell’s newborn resolution to tell him what she’d done and give him a chance to kill Clarkson and get the papers back died. She wouldn't have had the courage anyway. After an apparently endless night the little room grayed into morning. Cabell was up and dressed before six. She wrapped the despised new coat round her and unbarred the apartment door. The elevators weren't running yet, and she had EVENING POST to use the stairs. When she reached the entrance the janitor told her shortly that the newspapers hadn’t come. So she walked up and down the drive, her teeth chattering with something besides the chill of the morning. How much longer would she be obscure little Cabell Smith, whose only claim to distinction was that her mother was to marry the candidate for governor? How soon would she be pointed out as a traitor to her party’s cause, a cheat, a thief and a — A yell burst out down the avenue, the figure of a hoy on a bicycle came into vie Ww. Presently Cabell and the janitor were dis- puting over the possession of the . kage of newspapers on the low step. Cabell took her winnings—the Courier—to the stairs inside. The headlines chronicled international items, uninteresting to Cabell. There was a column or so devoted to Christie Wood- ward, but nothing about the right of way or Cabell Smith. She couldn't understand it. It was at breakfast, when her mother was commenting anxiously on the girl’s heavy eyes and lack of appetite, that the explanation occurred to Cabell. The mail hadn't been delivered in time for this issue. She inquired as offhandedly as possible when the morning papers were printed. “Gee, some of ‘em are on sale at eleven o'clock the night before! Bet they'll hold the presses for what dad’s got to say to- night though. They'll get an earful, too, I'll say! Reprieve. For how long? give it to an afternoon paper? was for Christie Woodward. Cabell’s Latin teacher sent her home, be- cause she burst into tears when newsboys began shrieking their afternoon editions by the academy. She was advised to go to bed and sleep. Of course she didn’t. She bought a Press from the first howling young mer- chant she met, and searched it, leaning against the iron fence of the school yard. Again not one word. Maybe they were saving it for a later edition. She bought them as they the same result. Doug was too full of the labor mass meeting and his own importance as escort extraordinary to ‘“‘Governor”’’ Brewster to pay attention to his sister, Mrs. Smith was putting in some extra hours at the office finishing up the transfer of the books. This was her last day; her last happy day, her Would they The Press came out, with daughter corrected—but to herself—when she received the message. She couldn't stay there alone, Nobody could. She'd go mad. She would go out for a walk. No use going over to Stelle’s. Stelle didn’t know about it. Cabell’s high heels clicked over the leaf- strewn pavements. It sounded like an army on parade. Was that her Latin teacher coming along the avenue? It was. Nobody could be expected to talk to a Latin teacher to-night. She ran across the street and entered the winding pathway into the park. She came to an abrupt halt by the fountain. There was the low red car. There was Lance Christie, one foot on its step, the tip of his cigarette glowing in the dusk. She had forgotten all about him. “Little pal!” The flash of white teeth again. Only this time they reminded Cabell strangely of the smile of the wolf who tried to double Red Riding Hood's grandmother. “Oh! I—I didn’t know you were here. I mean, I forgot.” “LT see you did. W hat a pretty little thing it is to-night, isn’t it? “‘T—can't stay, Mr. Christie. I—I’min a hurry.” She turned to run back along the winding path, “Coy, to-night? Get my note?, kept right beside her. It would never do to drag him out to the horrified gaze of the Latin teacher. Cabell paused under a bare young sycamore, “Yes. I can’t go. Please don’t waste any more time on me.” **Waste time! The last thing I'd call it. You know you just want to tease me. You want me to coax you. Well, all right! Come now—I’m dying for your society. You pretty thing, you! Just one little spin. I’ve something good to tell you.” With that odd look from his long eyes. Cabell caught her breath. “‘No; I can’t. I'm not ever coming again. You don’t know me. I’m not nineteen, as I said. I'm seventeen. I’ve never had any love “ He November 29, 19/9 affairs, either—not all my life. And—and I never used a lip stick before last Satur- day, and my mother’d die if she knew that. And I don’t know what you're talking about half the time! And—that’s all.” She would have run away in earnest this time, but he caught and held her. “You dear — funny — pretty — little thing!” ‘Please let me go.” “Don’t you know all this only makes you sweeter than ever? Now I’m going to put you into my car and take you for a long ride.” “No! No, “Oh, yes, you do. you want.” “T do! I do! no, I don’t want to.” You don’t know what You let go of me this minute. I'll get daddy. I guess he’d settle you! Don’t you dare carry me! Don’t you dare! I know your wife. Yes, I do, and I'll go to her right now. She’s nicer than you. She’s too nice for you. . . I don’t care. Laugh! She's a great deal nicer than Iam. I wish ——” He installed her in the car, and she leaped out the other side and fairly tore along the wide drive. She could hear him start the car. ; You couldn’t kidnap a girl in a big city. Of course you couldn’t. Even if it was all her fault for being a fool. Why hadn’t she run the other way, to the haven of a scan- dalized Latin teacher? There was never going to be any end to this drive. Her feet had been going up and down for centuries. What a mercy she hadn't worn her tight- suit skirt! This childish dress had saved her life. A man cut across the withering lawn a tall thin man. She tried to call, and could only sob, but he came toward her swiftly. At the same moment the low red car dashed by, its owner bent over the wheel. The danger was gone. The thin man lent her his handkerchief, with an Irish grin. It seemed natural for him to be Murphy. He had sense enough not to ask questions. She wept a little more at the thought of what she’d done to him too. He was all wrapped up in daddy’s election. He'd be disappointed and every- thing. He took her to the door of the elevator and stood there until Walker had wafted her out of sight. It was so nice of him. She didn’t expect to be able to sleep, but she was too exhausted to stay awake. The last thing she thought of was whether or not Murphy would come to the Capitol after ——- Why, what was the matter with her? Daddy wasn’t going to be elected. She'd ruined his chance! The newspapers were already at the door when she awoke. She took them back to bed with her. They were full of Wallace Brewster’s speech before the labor unions. Murphy’s good-humored grin was in !evi- dence in the flashlight picture. There seemed to be other people up for election to things too. Down in one corner in a little black frame was an item to the effect that Mrs. Lance Christie was leaving for France to take charge of a French hospital for babies which she had founded. But there was nothing about the right of way and the treachery of Cabell Smith. Cabell was too ill to go to school. She lay on the mission couch, among the gay pillows, and was anxiously tended by her mother, whose presence at home on a week- day seemed unnatural. Cabell might have found it comforting had it not been for the weight on her conscience. The thought of how mamma was going to suffer in a few minutes, or hours, or days, prevented any joy. Douglas making an exuberant exit added the final thorn. “Say, we got the best card in the deck to play Sunday. That'll make it just time for people not to forget before they vote Tuesday. Oh, baby! Won't Woodward howl?” That was why Clarkson was saving the right of way—to use as a trump card at the end. Mr. Brewster’s departure last night, to be gone until Sunday night, kept him from discovering the loss. Let’s see: Until Sunday night was—was fifty-something hours. She couldn’t go on living like this. But she did. Seizing each extra avidly as it came from the press, reading every page, flying to the phone at any ring, lying awake at night to go all over the long-drawn agony of the day. The Sunday papers were a mass of elec- tion data, candidates’ pictures, articles for and against everything and every man in (Concluded on Page 85)

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Concluded from Page 82) the race—but nothing on the vital subject. They were saving it for Monday. Mr. Brewster came in late Sund: Ly ing utterly fagged out. tor with him. -““We’d better have him look at Cabell. It’s all nonsense for her to feel ill and have nothing SF 3esides, there’s some ty- phoid. Oh, I don’t think it is, Shirley, but there’s no use letting it go.” He actually seemed worried about her and exasperated the physician, who couldn’t discover any- thing wrong with his patient. ‘Girls don’t lie round and get whity-green a” nothing. She cries at the least thing. I tell you you’ve got to fix her up, man, How’s she going through the strain of the wedding— when she’s wilted into a rag?” After the useless doctor had taken his leave the candidate brought out a square white box and laid it in Cabell’s lap. “T hope it’s what you want. [ had every- body in the store selec cting it. Your little friend—Stelle, isn’t it? gave me the idea. I talked with her on long distance after Shir—mother—told me you were ill.” Cabell began to cry again. It was what she had longed for—a wonderful, filmy, opalescent scarf, prettier than her dreams. look- He brought a doc- ‘There, don’t ery. We'll change it if it’s not right. . « That'll do, Doug! Your sister’s not well. . . . Now, now, now, little girl!” Between her sobs Cabell said she liked it very much, she didn’t want it chz ange d was his heart set + being governor? Be- cause he wouldn’t be elected, she’d done something awful and all the rest of their lives they'd never be able to live it down. ““Hysterical!’? commented Mrs. Smith. “Don’t ery, Cabell. I’m as good a loser as the next man. If I’m not elected I don’t expect it to blight my life; especially under the ¢ with a smile at the lady who was to share it. ‘I’ve been alone I was ten. I think I’m going to win, but if I don’t—I’'ll run for President next time and try that!” He simply wouldn’t she’d committed a crime. trying to tell him. ircumstances”’ since understand that She gave up After the last extra, Monday, Cabell, who had gone to town for it, leaned against the side of the Cole Block entrance and drew a deep breath. What were they going to do with those papers then, if they didn’t intend them in the race? Murphy’s lanky figure then sent her scurrying after him. caught his arm. * After a elected they can’t take him out by showing up the night of way, can they 1” “Once his teeth are in the job the divil himself can’t shake him loose. We'll show up the right of way ourselves before we're in office two days.” It was so nice of Murphy to answer ques- tions without asking others. He had a beautiful grin—not all teeth like—like some people. “If—if Doug—or me—got arrested would it make any difference to his keeping on. being governor?” ‘Just add some advertising.” He wanted to take her home, but before she could accept the elevator descended and Douglas bounded out. “Hey, Murph’! Dad’s been howling for you for the last week. Dudley’s gone back to use turning in just She on us—can’t speak to-night—mumps, I think. You'd better beat it upstairs and help with the swearing. . . . Cab! What ” you doing here? “Going home’’—miserably. “‘T’ll run you out if you don’t want to go I won't have time to dash anywhere else, Got to get back and lick all over town. Woodward. Boys, oh, boys, we’re going to have some time here to-night! For Pete’s sake hustle!” Murphy had barely time to voice his Irish regrets at his ill luck. Doug hurried her away. “T haven’t got all night. Why don’t you stay home when a fellow’s rushed to death anyway? I won’t have time to eat at the Strat. Takes Mason a month to bring the soup. Get a bite at a quick lunch. Gee, this time to-morrow night!” THE SATURDAY She gathered that they were to await returns at the Cole Block, with all the im- portant members of ‘‘our party,”’ but she didn’t thrill at the prospect. Even Mr. Brewster’s invitation to Stelle next day to join them for Cabell’s sake failed to interest Cabell. She didn’t care what she wore! It was like a party, Stelle said, bubbling with excitement. Douglas was in his ele- ment, rushing madly about with telegrams from various parts of the state, taking mes- sages over the private wire, and hanging on the words of the wrought-up enthusiasts who continually dashed in and out. Mrs. Smith sat at the candidate’s desk, flushed and smiling and confident. The wives and sisters of other important individuals were there too. Someone had brought in a great blackboard and every few minutes some late returns were posted. They conveyed nothing to Cabell, though everyone ap- parently knew when to groan and when to give vent to wild applause. It was near midnight before Murphy came in. Pandemonium reigned outside. Cabell had slipped into an outer office and sat in the darkest corner. She was beyond caring what happened. “T say, Miss Cabell, we’re in! Camber- ley returns! Woodward's just swamped!” He was shaking hands with her—both hands—and she was standing. Then she wasn’t standing. They were executing a wild little jig of joy. An outburst of enthusiasm from the rooms beyond indicated the receipt of the report there. Murphy managed an extra leap and a packet fell from his crammed pocket to the floor. They scrambled for it. The words *‘ Right of Way— Public Land- ing,”’ blazed from the manila of the enve- lope. Cabell screamed. “What is it? Hurt yourself?” “No. That. Where—where'd it from?” ““Come from? “Yes. How did you get it? I stole it and sent it to Clarkson.” She faced him desperately. He chuckled at that. Well, that’s how!” he repeated. “I couldn’t imagine when the postman gave it to me for Brewster, while B. was stumping Fri- di Ly “Postman gave it to you?” “Sure. I took his mail for two days campaign stuff.’”’ *‘But—the postman?’ “Oh!” His ready laugh rang out. of herself Cabell joined it. “It was returned for postage. Yousee, you forgot tostamp it.” Her heart was a winged thing, fluttering in her throat. **Does—daddy know? “Brewster? No. I haven’t had time to tell him. I was going to put a man on it to- morrow, But now ” He laughed again. “You won't tell a “Of course not. You little desperado!” How lovely of him to think it funny! What a beautiful party they were having! What a wonderful time! She would re member it all the rest of her life. She kissed her mother and Stelle and th come ” “That’s how! ” elected candidate fervently, and would have kissed Douglas too if he hadn't avoided her with a ‘“‘Have a heart! What d’you think I am?’ The whistle on the Leeds Building began blowing deafeningly. The owner was a Brewster man. Everybody sang He’s a Jolly Good Fellow without regard for tune or the fact that no one could be heard. Cabell and Murphy watched the search light on the Times Building blazing due north—the signal announced for the elec- tion of Brewster. They were both su- premely happy. rs ‘Give me first dance at the inaugural ball,” he begged. “T hough I don’t expect to be invited— worse luck!” She dimpled and promised. self again. Inspite ing out of her hair and the powder off her | nose. He did have the darlingest grin! . Yes, she’d give him the first dance at the ball. If he wasn’t there she’d sit it out alone and think of him. She didn’t voice her own shrewd sus- picion that she wouldn’t be there either. EVENING 1 She was her- | She hoped the curl wasn’t com- | POST How to set your table correctly | W: yI ILD you like to have a book, illus- trating the correct table-settings for formal Breakfasts, Luncheons, Dinners, and explaining authoritatively the | little niceties of etiquette connected with i Weddings, Linen Showers, Buffet Lunch “Coming Out’ and Birthday Parties? | } | Phe Wallace book of ‘‘Table Settings and Soctal Conventions for Every Occasion,’’ written | for us by Winnifred S. Fales, a recognized authority on social matters, tells, just what every woman needs to know to give her assurance on all occasions | and to win admiration as a hostess. Sent postpaid for 20 cents in stamps or silver R. Wallace & Sons Mfg. Co | Dept. of Publications Wallingford, Connecticut leas and eons, in text and pictures, XPERIENCED Liquid as the radiator leaks big repair bills. “X" will repair one ten minutes— and make a 2000 pounds pressure! It dissolve the scale now without leaks, and eliminate Beware or powder form. Many ruin it. ' For safety get the can is here. Used keep the cooling system ciency At shown Standard Size, Motorists Scientific laying up the If kept in the water, “X”’ I he Huds n Tea the t Prices now leak or one the permanent repair that will also Joosen the rust and damaging the circulating system Liquid will prevent future all trouble from rus of flaxseed meals of them clog the radiator and XX" Liquid. The “xX” Liquid wu at 100% of its original effi your dealer's or direct or such “d original” properly $1.50. Ford 25 W. 45th St., Pr ocess me *5 Halt Dozen of other pieces nately moderate Si recognize “‘X for repairin car of payin yusand leaks it stand t and scale opes,”’ Size, 75¢ Write for proof of how one can of “'X’’ Liquid did a $150.00 repair job X" LABORATORIES, NEW YORK CIT in hquid ill XN & rd t 1 l { \f

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86 Sit down,” she said She turned her head and flashed a arply cut off oncentrated kindly a he work which was al umed intent He saw that the chubl had cheel smile ner cheeks had bones now, and a brown own. Her eyes glowed ilth and vitality, but their expres- izzled him. He did not know that they no longer subtly sought his approval. Charity, like all the rest, was busy, and the iys in which it had been her natural bent at d her occupation to please men had long gone by. oosthe paused to sip . cup of tea; and now he could see her full face. It had not changed as had Charity’s, for it had not been plump. She was pink gone, She as hi very handsome, a striking brunette, a real brunette with vital crimson hinted ' at beneath the dark skin He was surprised at the absence of marks of sorrow. He did not know that one of the sacred hereditary rules of Lingard life was to keep your sorrows for your own room if possible; if not, to your own home, Roger had thought to find a clinging Charity, troubled by war, anxious about her home, subtly asking sympathy; a broken Dorothy, mourning her dead, crushed by her changed position, needing help; he was relieved He was intensely interested to find them so busy, so practical, for snatches of showed that they with estate talk were occupied matters. Charity’s snappy com ment about this farm and that farmer made him want to laugh. Her soft attrac tiveness had certainly gone, but there was some thing magnificent about her efficiency, her mental and physical quickness, and the grace which her man’s coarse dress could not entirely hide He found laughable the con trast between her fine tafly colored hair, like a kid’s and the re of her. How they differed, these two cousins the dark Dorothy shimmering in the spotless armor of the Knight Templar, the light-haired Charity saved from complete masculinity by the feminine face and the tousled baby hair. Charity’s nose —he was always getting their profiles against the window—was not perfect like Dorothy's, but he liked her face the better. Charity wheeled on him with a sudden question. “What can I do for you?” asked. She suggested a business man who spares five grudged minutes ‘They said Miss Turle where I could get a room,” submissively. “We can hardly pack away our own.” She eyed the metal letters on his shoulder which named his regiment. ‘Are your people about here?” “IT saw the place and liked it,” Roger said. “It looks good to a Canadian. I thought oy “Oh, Canadian? accent; and you are Her voice was a litth more interested “Tf you,” he answered, “ four years ‘ ‘Four years? ‘In August.’ sne might tell me he answered once You haven't got an in the British Army ofter, and she seemed had been nearly You enlisted in 1914? She came toward him. “Have you the Mons ribbon?” He nodded. Charity’s arm shot out and her hand The palm was hard and he clung to a grasp closed on his felt callous lumps, but he so firm and friendly “He could have one of the groom's rooms over the stables, Charity Miss Lingard was also inspecting him with appreciation “LTamsure my cook could manage his meals.” Charity Whipped it Open. THE SATURDAY EVENING POST THE GIRL ON THE HILLTOP (Continued from Page 25) Her next words were addressed to him. “We want to do everything we can for Colonials,” she said with a smile. “It’s nice that you come because you like it here.” “Perhaps we can do better than that, Miss Lingard,” Charity sard. ‘What is your name?” “Sergeant Hill.” ‘*Where are your chevrons?” “*My kit has been lost. I hope it will turn upat Castlechepe. My parade tunicisin it.” She Started, Frowned, Glanced at the Clock, Then Reread the Note “You should get it. You should wear your belt. You should carry the silly little switch cane. There are a lot of officers about here-—too many of them—and as most of them have not been to the Front at all they are sticklers for parade dress on the roads.”” Charity laughed. ‘From whe at part of Canada?” “Vancouver.” “Oh,out there. Have you traveled about? Did you ever go to California? Did you know a place called Moke-lum-ne Hill?” He did not correct her mispronunciation. He had invented his name from his birth- place, and Mo-kel-um-ne Hill might sug- gest Kellie Hill to others than himself. ‘I do not remember the place,” he answered truthfully. He had been taken from there when a baby. He was a little annoyed by the sharp, precise interroga- tions, and surprised to find that they had got so far in their search for him, “You forget the absurd distances over there, Charity,” Dorothy intervened; ‘and, besides, the letter said that the whole family had left the place many years ago.” ‘I’m ridiculous of course. Still, you never know. On leave of course; fourteen days?” ‘Three months.” “Three months? But that’s sick leave.” Charity’s voice was soft again. ‘What's the matter?” “You were a sergeant major,” Roger answered quietly, determined to stop this orderly-room interrogation. ‘‘Now you are a doctor.” Surprised, Charity bent back sharply, frowning and looking into his eyes; then she laughed good-humoredly. ‘‘Sorry,”’ she said. But Dorothy still frowned. She spoke in French. “Have a care about these Cana- dians,” she said. ‘“‘ They do not understand our life nor keep their place.” Roger promptly answered in French. “I will try to understand, mademoiselle,” he said; ‘‘and I will try not to presume.” He regretted his quick retort. It was no satisfaction to make both cousins blush. Dorothy looked as she had looked when she had meant to whack his head with the racket. Her face became a dark damask rose. Charity’s pink seemed to flood over the tan and recalled the girl of four years ago. “T beg your pardon,”’ Dorothy stammered. ‘“‘I was a_ beastly snob.”” She was ob- viously mortified, genuinely penitent. Roger liked her from that moment. Ile proved how thoroughly he for- gave her by frankly describing his con- dition. Hewas one of the mustard- gassed men who must be lazy for a time lest out- raged lungs in- vite tubercle. Ile did not say how hard it was to be patient, nor explain that a commission in the United States Army al- most certainly awaited his dis- charge. He found the at- mosphere elec- trically altered. His two cousins seemed now to embody his dreams of the trenches. He was so happy in their kindness, their frank sym- pathy, that he longed for more; he almost thought of telling them who he was. “You are very welcome to my brother’s room here for to-night,’ Charity said. ‘‘You will have the house to yourself, but I will see that you don’t starve.” “Thank you very much, Miss Turle.” Dorothy signed the last letter. She flung down the pen and rose. A memorandum on the table caught her eye. She flushed. “June 11, 1894." She murmured the words, but Roger heard distinctly the date of his birth. What she was thinking of him was evidenced by what she did. A tortoise- shell snuff box inlaid with gold, in which she had brought a ration of granulated sugar for her tea, lay on the table. She snatched it up and slammed it angrily into her hand bag. She did the same with a glass-lined monk's inkpot which had con- tained a morsel of butter. Ladies were all rifling their drawing-room cabinets in these days and applied their antique rarities to strange uses. She calmed down in one of those swift repressions which Roger had already come to know. She held out her hand with a winning smile. “Tf there is anything you need or we can do, Hill, you'll let us know, won't you?” “T certainly will, Miss Lingard; and I’m very much obliged to you.” He watched her as she passed the window outside, spotless, charming. He turned to surprise Charity in an intent study of him. Her smile rippled, widened, and ended in an infectious laugh. Recognition was in her eyes. She held out her two hands. "a knew I had seen you before!” she cried. “It has only just dawned on me. If you fought in the trenches as you did in the I are in the same boat. November 29,1919 park you are hung all over with medals and crosses."’ She held his hand as she scanned his face. ‘‘You have changed.” She shrugged her shoulders. ‘‘So have all of us. What a mad day it was and how rotten silly —but still ——” She laughed again, and so did Roger. She rained questions about his service and his record, but his replies were queries. “You are like all the rest,”’ she said; “you will not talk about yourself.’”’ She eyed him soberly. ‘‘It’s jolly nice of you to come back to us for your leave,” she said. “‘Was it because I plumped you straight into the middle of our silly little squabble? You seemed to like it. I have often thought of you, and wondered what became of you. Why didn’t you write? We should have written and we should have sent you par- cels. We should have loved it.” “J wish I had,” he answered. a lot.’ She punched a cushion and placed it in a Jacobean armchair which had corkscrew pillars in the back. He sat down, pleased but protesting. “I’m no invalid,” afraid of being one. of changes here. I've Lingards.”’ ““Changes? Oh, I should think so!’’ She sat companionably near. ‘We are all too busy to think or brood or be sorry. There’s something funny, something absolutely ridiculous in Miss Lingard’s position and mine. It’s the tie between us. She and I are in the same boat.” “T lost he said. “I’m only You have had a lot heard about the ‘Tell me,”’ Roger pleaded as Charity stopped short. ‘‘ You make this seem home to me. % ‘That’s just what I want to do,” Charity answe red with an earnest sincerity. ‘And it’s so odd. You saw us only once, fight- ing on opposite sides; and now you find us —well—friends, Miss Lingard and I. Yes—-I’ll tell you a bit of family history. Everybody knows, I suppose. Villages have no secrets. Except my brother; I haven't told him.” ‘*Well—in the same boat?” “‘A Lingard married a Turle ages ago,”’ Charity said, ‘“‘and they went to the United States. My old grandfather died, and I found a deed that showed that this house really belongs to their heir over there. Now, so does St. Dyfrigs Park and all the Lingard estate here.”” She paused. The compres- sion of her level brows relaxed. “It’s a joke of Fate,” she went on. “Our home is swallowed up in the estate after nearly a century, and the Turles are no longer land- lords like the Lingards.”’ Her laughter rang hollow. “Poor old Tom; he’s in Bag- dad, and I haven't worried him, but it will hit him hard. Not the value of course; just the sentiment. You can’t understand, Mr. Hill, but it meant a lot to him, and to me.” “Oh, but I can understand,”’ Roger said earnestly. ‘‘That’s rough luck. *““We've had a letter,” Charity inter- rupted; ‘“‘or Miss Lingard had. The inter- loper has been traced. At least we know that he was born and is twenty-four years old.” “He'll never take the cottage, asserted. ‘He'll have to,” was Charity’s answer. “Tom accepts nothing from anybody. So even if the Yankee should turn out to be half decent it simply couldn't be done.” False pride.” Charity shook her tousled head. ‘‘The Yankee gets the cottage and the rent since my grandfather died,” she declared. ‘I know Tom.” “‘But if he turned out to be all right, and a friend—a real friend “We Turles don’t accept favors. Miss Lingard i is just the same,” she added as she rose. ‘She vows she won't even accept the usual allowance. That’s going too far of course. It’s always done. But she’s—well, proud is a weak little word to describe her. She never gives in, but—oh, well, she has some bitter hours, I’m sure of that.” Roger bent his head, troubled. **We force fun out of it,’’ she went on. “After all, isn’t it ridiculous?”” She turned toward the door. ‘‘ Yes, Miss Lingard and It’s floating with the tide, waiting for a young man. We hate him of course. We shall pretend to be civil of course. We shall hand him our homes and—well, I won’t say vanish, but we’ll hunt up lodgings somewhere. Now come (Continued on Page 91) ” Roger

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ee — THE SATURDAY EVENING POST 87 j f / A \ \ } \ \ XK 4% \ \ ; ; ‘ i 2 PDA A eRe ye ss : ‘ ‘i ei 3 ~e Pa * of ‘ ‘ A } ; 5: 8 “ . ge —= é ~~ ; \ | Winter Motoring under an Oregon City Robe OW much pleasure and comfort in motoring when you are protected from cold and damp by all-wool warmth. Look at the robe pictured here. Note how the picturesque charm of the Indian weave and design has been retained. We present LOOK FOR THIS LABEL It is our guar antee to you of quality and service. a wide range of color and pattern in this group, for your selection. Our Scotch plaids are made in almost endless variety, fringed and self-bound. What Christmas gift will give more pleas- ure and real service than one of these? Oregon City Robes are attractive and serviceable couch covers. In summer you can use them in the hammock or canoe—for traveling and all outdoors Woven on special looms, of purest wool. Finest Alizerine dyes insure y colors that are true and permanent fl Y = 7 In the corner of each robe is the Oregon City label—look for it! It is EL int our guarantee of quality and service Your merchant is n howing _— our rot in a big variety of desig: ind coloring Holiday displa everywhere Oregon City Woolen Mills Founded in 1864 by 1. & R. Ja Highest Awards Mills and Tailoring Shops at Oregon City, Oregon Wherever Exhibited Sales Of New York Chicago Minneapol San Francis Portland § Salt Lake ’ on lity We W = o ® 2 9 oe awe ~ oe » ws VY F % het tha a Ws G 2B } ; =.) ‘ > was Ff 5 ee GS fe a 28 fe ss s 4A |, 5i5 vv & OVERCOATS MACKINAWS FLANNEL SHIRTS INDIAN BLANKETS MOTOR ROBES BLANKETS

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST November 29,/9/9 Right near you somewhere you are almost sure a salesman conversant with electrical matters and familiar operate them and give you a vision of the pleasure and satisf: And these Hotpoint Appliances combine usefulness with gifti displayed by the dealers at Holiday time—that is why they m Glitter and glint they have to attract the eye, and beauty of line to satisfy. Which serve as camouflage for these sturdy, everyday electrical servants. With the result that they serve as a constant re- minder of the giver. To be more specific— Here is Chafing Dish cookery raised to the nth power —nothing but pure unalloyed pleasure—for the heat is always under complete control—no fuel to fuss with —no fumes—no danger. There are several styles of Hotpoint Chafing Dishes. Easiest thing in the world to have your toast hot and crunchy brown, just when you want it. Make it at the table, two pieces at a time. The Hotpoint Toaster here shown has handy rack for passing. No need to recite the troubles of older methods of applying heat to the body. This Hotpoint Safety Flex- ible Heating Pad does away with all trouble—ready instantly, day or night—set it for the desired temperature change it at will with one finger. Can also be used for wet pack. Approved by National Board of Fire Underwriters. D Uniformly good coffee, ready in a hurry, amber clear and piping hot—that’s the story of the Hotpoint Percolator. You use cold water—percolation begins in half a minute—coffee ready in about ten minutes. A clever automatic device prevents injury to the pot should you neglect to turn off the electricity. ‘~ E Hotpoint Ovenette and how good it is. Results are equal to the largest oven—bakes a pan of biscuit, a cake, or a chicken. Ovenette has no heater but must be used over an electric stove like F. fe Table cookery and light kitchen cook- ing become a pleasure when this Hot- point Radiant stove is used. Ordinary cooking dishes are used, just as on other stoves, with the advantage that there is no fuel or dirt, no fumes and little heat in the room. Heat all ready instantly. Ovenette (E) is used on it to advantage. You'll be surprised to see what can be baked in the 1847 ROC StLY & Hotpoint Electrical Equ certain items of this well- to secure the electrical | as the balance of your t This Coffee Urn is equipped colating device and the aut damage should the electrici —either Butler (satin) or brig above is hand chased in t —Urn is 17 inches high; so! creamer and 20 inch tray ¢ EDISON ELECTRIC API New York CHI Ont: Manufacturers of the three well-kno Hotpoint ‘

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to find one of the 14,000 Hotpoint stores where ith the Hotpoint articles will gladly show you just how to ‘fection that about three million women now enjoy. if™ness in a unique way—that is why you see them so prominently Make such acceptable Christmas presents. BERS BROS. RWAR ipment is now installed in known ware, enabling you bieces in the same pattern able service. with the regular Hotpoint per- omatic switch which prevents y be left on t finish. The Butler finish as shown he beautiful Adam Period design. d alone or with sugar, gold lined s illustrated. AGO trio, Calif. ‘ Hughes dison PLIANCE COMPANY, Inc. a lines of household electrical appliances THE SATURDAY EVENING POST Ready in a trice—just attach to any lamp socket and your Hotpoint appliance will do its work quick- ly and conveniently. No other method compares. Remember: At every lamp socket a willing serv- ant awaits your bidding and if you use your wiring for lighting only you are letting this eager servant rest idle most of the time. G No other electric appliance has been used and approved by so many women as the Hotpoint Iron. It is standard throughout the world. Among its advantages—there is a thumb rest which rests the wrist—no lifting, just tip it up on attached stand—no holder necessary as the handle is always cool—and the point is always hot. H Plunge this I lotpoint Immersion Heater into any small quantity of liquid and it begins to heat immediately. Invaluable for countless emergency uses— baby’s milk, a midnight hot drink, shaving water. It is a straight smooth cylinder, nickel plated and self sterilizing. ‘Two sizes. | This Ironing Utility Set solves many of the traveler's problems. The ironing board folds up to make a creton covered box which contains the 3 pound iron, a stand on which to reverse iron and curling tong which is heated in the iron. Iron will do all ordinary work. An ideal gift. J There are several types of Hotpoint Percolator Pots as well as Machines and Urns, all fitted with the Hotpoint percolating device and automatic switch. The Pothere ¢ shown is the one most widely sold. Six cup size, nickel finish. It is easy to live in a home that is always clean if you use this Hotpoint Cleaner to suck up the dust and dirt. You simply guide the Cleaner lightly over the rugs—a long cord gives a wide working radius. Attachments for cleaning portiers, clothing, inside of piano and the like. You can broil, boil, fry or toast on this Three-Heat Grill —any two operations at the same time, one above the glowing coils and the other below, in the dishes that are furnished. Use it at table or anywhere there isa lamp socket. Heat is under your complete control. Ovenette (E) can be used over this Grill. Atlanta

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST November 29,1919 OH BS A 4 ad ¢.Y s.3] ” Bi Be . oy ~ > nay Ss ' > : . 28 om Lary NG) & Te hie Rwy LA } ii 4} } —_ SY %, a . . hat . : ib ciel AAane tee | | “Best for every purpose” Give Grinnell Gloves this Christmas ie ee ee ee style in Grinnell Gloves. Your thoughtful- ness and good taste will be doubly appreci- ated by the recipients. For men, for women, for boys and girls, Grinnell Gloves maintain their well-deserved reputation for style, shapeliness, and service. Whatever its purpose, be it for work, dress or driving, each Grinnell Glove ex- presses the highest value in appearance and durability. We lay great stress upon the wearing qual- 8610—Boys ities of Grinnell Gloves, because with that faithful wear there is continuing handsome- ness and trueness in shape. Constence There is sixty-two years of character-building back of every Grinnell Glove—long years of faithful insistence upon every little detail that makes up quality—absolute adherence to principles of workmanship and practices in marketing which create and cement good will. The Grinnell trademark is a guarantee of quality——the honor mark of good gloves. See that it is on the gloves you buy. Styles shown here are only suggestions of the 900 styles of Grinnell Gloves —every one made to the exacting Grinnell quality standard. | 461—“Hunters” 25 Broad St Established 1856) Grinnell, lowa, U.S.A Christmas Glove Book Free The Christmas Grinnell Glove Booklet, show ing styles for men, women, and children, matled to you on request. S« lect the Grinnell Gloves you want; if your ck aler hasn't them, he will gladly order a pair for your inspection, Ladies ~_ N 4446—"Limp-Kuff” 7947

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(Continued from Page 86) into the farmhouse just above for supper when you like. Make yourself at home. Remember, this house is yours.’ He frowned. Yes, the house was his; and likely to remain his. That was the trouble. He was dismayed by Charity’s declaration of independence. “Don’t be so downhearted, Mr. Hill, just because a Yankee’s coming to rob your friends,” Charity gibed. ‘After all, there’s a way out.” ““What’s that?” he asked, so eagerly that she was amused. “If he’s only half a good sort,’ “he will marry Miss L ingard,’ “She wouldn’t “Of course she would! She’d strike me dead if I suggested it to her now, but think, it solves everything, doesn’t it?” “For her perhaps; but how does it help you”? Charity shrugged her shoulders. ‘He certainly cannot marry us both,” she admitted. ‘He might choose you,” Roger suggested smiling. Charity looked down at her soiled cow- man’s smock and put the tip of her red tongue between her lips. “Remember, the house is yours,”’ she re- peated over her shoulder as she clattered away. ie said, Roger, left alone, paced the room in per- turbed reflection. It was going to be much harder than he had thought to straighten out this thing. The grandfather’s clock struck six. He gave up planning and ex- plored the house, which he had twice been too truthfully told was his. An hour later he went among the villagers, to whom he found his uniform an open passport. Food and pigs and officers’ wives were their top- ics, and he was astonished to remember whe *n he went into the farmyard at eight o'clock that a great war was bei sing fought. Nobody had mentioned it. Charity, clean, in a blue woolen dress and a big brown linen apron, pleased his eye, and her welcome gladdened his heart. She was very busy. A little girl of sixteen was her only helper in serving a supper to a dozen. “I’m in this,” Roger said, and he ladled mutton stew from a steaming pot. “Heaps of rice,’ Charity murmured. “Tt’s not rationed.” So he put morsels from the scrag end of a neck of mutton and mounds of rice in front of tired men just in from the fields. The setting sun shone through the win- dow and along the table, lighting up the faces of the strangest lot of laborers ever seen in an English village. A Lapp anda Lett, stranded seamen, sat side by side They were not allowed to go to sea as they would not get national credentials, so to- gether they had wandered to the farms. Two private soldiers, village boys, home on leave and volunteers in the fields, sat on either side of a blond Belgian refugee who had once sold cornice moldings and frames in a little shop near the belfry of Bruges. A sailor from Brittany, with a seaman’s pass, walk- ing from London to Swansea and earning supper and a bed on the way, talked in Breton to the schoolmaster, who answered in the kindred Welsh tongue. The school- master was troubled by the sight of Roger. He beckoned and begged that he should not be quoted. “I’m a clam,” Roger said, speaking American inadvertently. “‘And what is that?” “A bivalve whose lips you cannot open with a jimmy.” Roger thought that the tablecloth was a sheet, but it was napery all right, only un- starched. For months no starch had got beyond the big towns. “If things were only what they seem,” Charity said, when at last Roger was eat- ing. ‘‘ You can’t provide meals when every- thing is camouflaged. Pepper is ground husks and you could eat it by the spoonful. Jam is sirup or beet root with glucose. But- ter is worked up with skim milk and— well, paraffin, I should say. Eggs come from China, they tell us, and they surely taste of Shanghai. This mutton was frozen and the bones look like mutton bones, but your palate doesn’t say it. Got your ration book? I thought not. Go to the food controller at Castlechepe to-morrow. I'll come down after supper and make up a bed for you.” ‘It’s done,”’ Roger answered. “I put the blankets in the sun. You needn’t come. What food am I entitled to?” THE SATURDAY “Two ounces of butter a week, eight ounces of sugar, two of margarine, about twelve ounces of meat, two ounces of tea. Cheese you cannot buy in this neighbor- hood. Bacon and pork are unrationed, but they're so fat and hard cured you can't eat them. You can get fish once a fortnight. You can get extra as a soldier, but you've been pampered in hospital and won’t eat what you can get. You'll end by filling up with dry bread, just like the rest of us. “But surely—in the country—on a farm a “We stick to the rules here,” Charity said. “‘And don’t think I am kicking for myself. I’m only explaining why I can’t give you more. There are food hoggers about of course, and some of the farmers do themselves well. But most of us think that is contemptible.” The meal was over by nine o'clock, but it was still light. Charity scoffed at an invi- tation to a stroll. The Lapp would wash up, but she had plenty to do. Roger made his way to the park. White-topped stumps dotted the grass as far as he could see and many big trunks lay flat. He knew that his estate had thus been marred by a government imperatively demanding timber, and cursed the Ger- mans as he had not cursed them when going over the top. Their vandal hands stretched everywhere. They had overthrown his oaks and his hae and } is beeches even here in this walled-in circle of peace. He encouraged his delightful sensation of ownership. He saw a fractured bole which had been cut to fall wrongly, and he pre- tended to resolve that he would find out about that. He saw a Hereford heifer with a very young calf at foot and he thought that she ought to be housed; he would see the cowman about that. Turf was en- croaching on the road; he must have a word with the gardeners. There were deep ruts; the road must be fresh metaled. He had helped to macadamize more than one road in France and knew much about it, in- cluding the English word for the process. He came at last to the house and stood and looked at it. Four years before— he thought of that— Charity had warned him that to stand and admire was to trespass with the eyes. That he might now freely gaze brought not exultation but humility. Level sun rays on mellow brick facade and vine-covered ells invested the manor house with a haunting beauty. He gazed, draw- ing long breaths, profoundly moved, pro- foundly impressed and oppressed by the thought that this wonder of solid beauty and medieval charm was his possessor. It did not belong to him. He belonged to it. He could not sell it. He could not give it away. Those two ells stretching toward him from the main building were arms drawing him, dragging him into a net of laws and customs and traditions that would bind him helplessly. He did not fear responsibilities, but he had the American individualistic inheri- tance and training, and he was impatient of hampered and conditioned possessions. Over there if you owned something you owned it. You knew where you were. Be- cause he could not give it to Dorothy he gazed at the sun-warm Elizabethan manor house with a pleasant melancholy resent- ment, He started violently, conscious of a voice. A lady stood by his side. He looked into eyes that were so intently fixed as to arouse fear that he might have been talking aloud. He lifted his cap, against all military rules. “Are you going to St. Dyfrigs,” the lady asked, ‘“‘and could you take a note?’ “Ww ith pleasure.’ ‘Thank you. Come with me. You were lost. I called. I spoke three times.” “‘T am sorry.” Her face was a long oval, her heavy hair was iron gray, and her eyes were very large She had a high distinction of manner and appearance and a throaty, kindly voice. **Was it the beauty of the house?” “T feel as if I had been found asleep,” toger said. ‘*Never mind,” she said. “‘ You were not on sentry duty.” She glanced at him, smiling, curious. “We don’t have that in Canada.” He pointed to the house. He noted the expected quick change, slight though it was; the expression of the mother country’s appreciation of the loy- alty of her children, partly genuine, partly wise policy imposed from above and en- couraged by newspapers. ““Would you care to see the inside?” she asked. EVENING POST His response was so eager that the great lady was further pleased with him, and she showed it. She told him to come on Thurs- day at three. “Ask for me,” she said; “the com- mandant.”’ They were close to the front now. Sev- eral officers were sitting or lounging about in long comfortable chairs, some drinking after-dinner coffee, some smoking, some chatting and laughing. The commandant led Roger to a man sitting alone, writing in the fading light. “I’ve found a messenger for you, colonel,”’ she said. Roger saluted, though the officer was dressed in white flannels. *Duchess,”” the colonel exclaimed in protest, ‘I did not mean “g ‘Il heard youask. Is aw th is kind soldier passing. There you are. “Thursday at three, 2 he said to Roger as she passed on, ‘Thank you, duchess. She smiled. The officer glanced up from his writing. “You should say ‘Your Grace,’’’ Colonel Bickley Ryker corrected. **T will remember, sir,’’ Roger answered, scanning his old antagonist with interest. Ryker had improved and he had progressed, Roger thought. He looked a keen officer and had the manner of one who thinks and acts quickly. His face was stern, but not repellent as of old, and the sulky look had gone. Roger was glad that Bickley Ryker had won a commission and such good pro- motion. He must have earned them well. Roger slipped along and stepped just within the doorway. Thus he crossed the threshold of his house. He saw tall col umns and a great stairway, and at its foot stood Dorothy, talking to the duchess. **Cousin Dorothy belongs here right enough,” was his thought. “‘Do1?" With her haughty head held high and the star- tling red cross on her breast she looked the Knight Templar at home. He heard her laugh. It sounded jolly to him. He backed away, smiling. “Do you know the Home Farm?” tH \ es, Sir. = The colonel tore up his note and reflected. He was « vide ntly not finding it easy. “If they’ve gone to bed wake them up,’ he said. Dorothy came out and nodded pleasantly to Roger. “It is you, then, sergeant,”” she said, smiling. ‘‘] thought so.” She turned to the colonel. ‘‘Sergeant Hill,’’ she in- formed him, ‘‘is to inspect the hospital.” She nF gp again and shot a glance of amused curiosity at a soldier who had caught the vagrant fancy of a duchess The colonel glanced up. ‘‘ Parade dress, he commande d shortly. “Yes, sir Roger had thoroughly learned discipline, respected it, and wa never sullen under it. Be des, he honored this man whom he had once thrashed, who must have a fine record, and who had been wounded. “Are you sure you're quite fit, colonel? Dorothy asked. ‘‘Ought you to go straight away?” The colonel had finished the second edi- tion of his note, He addressed the envelope. ‘I beg your pardon, Miss Lingard? I was thinking of the farm. It is over- stocked. I am sending a line about it. You asked ——” “Can't you get a short leave?"’ she said “You should have a few days in London.” ‘I'm on to my job,” he answered. “I hall be with my regiment the day after to-morrow.” He thrust his hand into his pocket “Never mind the tip, sir,” Roger said. “A little courtesy I’m glad to do for you.” The colonel frowned. Dorothy smiled. Pa xplained the latter, “is ” ” »” a ( inadian,”’ the colonel said as he he letter, “likes a glass of beer or some cigarettes. No? All right, then I'm much obliged to you és toger saluted, and again, defiant of regu- latior fted } il to Dorothy Den't keep the duchess waiting.”’ She chuckled and Roger went away vith that plea int sound in his ear He walked fast, for farmhouse hours were early and it was ten o'clock now He could just make out that the note was addressed to Charity. Why must a message about an overstocked farm be delivered that night? If the house was closed he resolved to leave the message under the door. If the note as about steers and grass it would keep If the colonel had lied that was his lookout The front of the house was dark. He 91 went through the farmyard. A flood of light poured out of the open kitchen door, but the room was empty. He rapped on the table and presently Charity came ‘A pint here, a quart there ~ it’s madden ing!’’ she cried blithely. ‘‘] was just mak- ing out the horrid milk accour They drive me mad. Now what's gone wrong? Can't you find sheets? Or is it a candle?” ‘I went past the hospital,” he said. “I was asked to bring this note She whipped it open. She started, frowned, glanced at the clock, then reread the note “Good nigh t,”’ said Roger. He heard her response as he wa ten Teet from the door His word had only then reached her ear He sat by the weet peas in the open window considering this incident. It wa good to be thinking out schemes for forcing houses on girl It was amusing and de lightful and sentimental. It was a mighty fine way of resting after doing your part jut the romance pale 1 when another man came into it. Why should he play Harun al-Rashid and go about secretly among hi people to find a way to present Bick Ryker’ bride with half a house. Roger grinned and called himself an idiot. His two cousins were in their separate ways more than usu- ally attractive. Dorothy was not engaged, he knew, or the whole confounded village would not be twittering about a marriage with the mysterious heir; but it was ‘almost certain that in these quick, exciting times she was deeply interested in somebody. He resented the conviction. He argued away from it. He was jealous. And Charity? Well, a marriage with Bick Ryker would be fine; a topping couple, hustlers both. But, har git, inside his skin Ry ker was a sullen dog and a bit of a bully! Not good enough for bright, cheerful ( harity by a long was Roger became annoyed, angry. He wa jealous Charity sped down the street He could just hear in the utter silence the light patter of her quick feet. He could just see through the darkness that she was dressed in white, and he thought that she wore roses in her belt. He knew now that he had been wait ing to see if she went by He slipped the window down as as such windows will close. He fastened the wooden shutter He thrust home the great bolts of the front door Thus he barred out temptation to watch for her re turn. He went to bed angry with Bic Ryker, annoyed with the man Dorothy was interested in, whoever he might be, and as- tonished again to remember that in Frank there was war. ilently Vv HARITY pas ed beneath the = and J through the gate into the p: Sh followed the wall to the left and ne thy she was face to face with Bickley Ryker “IT knew you would come,” he aid You ordered it, colonel.” They looked at each other in the fitful moonlight “LT asked it. You have hardly changed.’ “You have, a lot. You look a colonel.’ “Hard, you mean?” “Yes, that--and more.” She was study ing his face with questioning eyes. “I ex pected the change.”’ She moved forwar« and he walked by her side. “ Everybody proud of you,” she said. ‘ Everybody i: glad that you have got well. You will come back next time a general. Only a bullet car stop you now.” ‘I am no more than major.” “With temporary rank as lieutenant colonel and actually in command of your regiment.” “You watch closely.” “You would know that I do,” she an- swered. “‘We watch all who went fron here They did not speak for a little while Charity knew what he wanted. She waitec for him to ash stood still. He, then into her eye ‘You never answered my telegram,” he he glanced about and too, looked round, and iid “No Explanatior ere due Couldn't yu gue he asked Oh, ye I could gue hat you did That is what I want to know.” “You make it hard, Charity “Did you make it easy for me?” she retorted with a spirt of flame that died down instantly ‘] kissed you here. We sat there on the stone. I put my arms about your neck and eried ‘i “You were excited, wrought up,” he in terrupted. Hi Continued on Page 95 utterance was as cold a

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—_-—— a (Continued from Page 91 hers was calm. “War had been on just twenty-four hours. I was the first to go. | was in the reserves and had to, but you thought me a hero.” “That won’t do, hint of contempt utterance. “Drop the colonel,” “No. It stands for something. Colonel Ryker.” A was conveyed in her he said impatiently, She was fac ing him now, quite close, and she was peering into eyes that met ‘hers unflinchingly. ‘‘I have kissed boys,” she said; ‘‘but the only kiss I ever meant was the one I gaveto you. I have never cried for any man but you. I was happy that night. I grew up. I was no hysterical girl mooning over you. You knew that. You know it now. Be straight.” ‘You were fond ~ of me,’ he promptly e nodded. “No more talk, then, about exc sie ment and bei ‘ing w rought up and war And you? “T was fond of you.’ “ Ah— now we can get on.” She tried to speak with utter quiet, but she could not quite achieve that. ‘You wrote. I wrote. Egypt, Gallipoli, Basra, France. There was the censor. We never forgot him. But they were love letters—yours and mine. Do you say that they were not? igs ‘They were love letters,” he agreed. ‘Then your last letter. You asked me to marry you, didn’t you?” “I did od ‘And if I had ope ned that letter, what would I have answered? “Oh, how can I say that, Charity?’ She put a hand on his arm. “Steady, Bickley,” she said. ‘‘ Remember, you are n training for a gentleman.”’ She could hysterics see that he flushed a dull red at that, all over a face pallid from hospital, but his eyes still ft hers squarely. “‘That's no word,”’ she explained. “It’s the It’s the key to everything. I slighting bare truth ask again.” ‘You would have “Of course said yes.” I didn’t need to say it. I had already said it in twenty ways in twenty letters." Her pleasant voice was a little lowered, a little roughened, but her elf-control was again perfect 6. our telegram came two days before the letter. as soon as I read the wire. been offered a commission. 1 watched the papers. I saw it gazetted. How many hours after you knew about the commission did you send that telegram?” ‘You make it hard for me, Charity.” She laughed. He started at its hardness. She did not ask him if he merited considera- tion. She simply explained that she had a reason for ‘The same She drew a fond of though ] guessed almost You had her questions. day,”’ he admitted. long, deep breath. “You She spoke in wonde a addressing him, but as vere not as though her thought escaped her. “A career opened to you. You got your foot on the ladder. I might hinder your climb- letter un- Here it is, ing. You wired to return your opened, wired the same day. unopened— after two years.” He took it He was astonished at her mental growth, her clear insight, her elf-control He had expected a reproaches. He had foreseen an awkward hour. He had been prepared to cajole, to wheedle " perhaps even tothreaten He had been ready to call himself a cad if that should prove necessary; to say that he was unworthy of her; to implore her forgiveness; to use all the weapons, in fact, that men use in the sex battle when they fight to free themselves from a regretted entanglement with a girl of inferior station in life. But Charity’s dignity and clear vision had saved him from this. She had met him as man to man. She understood. She was looking into his face as though in silence. scene, tears, unconscious that he could be aware of her far-away, wistful scrutiny. At last she spoke ‘You knew, didn’t you,” she asked, “that I should read that letter as clearly as though my eyes saw it?” “T wasn’t sure. I thought you might.” ‘You believed Il would do well, just about as I have done?’ ‘You throw a fierce light on Charity.” ‘I have not “But you have now.” His answer was to seat himself on the stone on which they had sat four years before. She took her place beside him. birth?” she said. things, begun yet,” she flashed. the letter. You could go “Was it my -tell y THE SATURDAY He considered out like you do,” ‘I found myself suddenly and—TI just shook you off. the God’s truth.” “You were a private in the army once, an officer's servant,” she said. ‘What were your people?” ‘Like yours,”’ he answered; “That will not matter to you—to a man.” She thought for an instant. “‘ Not so long as you learn the manners of the mess. That’s what I meant when I said you looked a colonel. You've caught the manner. You've learned a lot besides your military duties, colonel.” “Tf I thought 1 had learned half as much as you i “Wasn't it because I had been a bar- maid?” she demanded insharp interruption. He had taken off his hat. She saw per- spiration in beads on his forehead shining in the now fuller moonlight like grotesque little pearls. “Everything,” he answered. chance. I didn’t foresee that it ing. I didn’t expect it. It came. the career—or you.” ‘Had I the education? “T never thought things he answered at length. in the running And that’s “peasants.” “T had my was com- It was Had I the man- ners? Should I make mistakes? Could I dress? Should I meet officers for whom I had mixed whisky-and-sodas? Would their wives be decent to me? You asked yourself those questions?” “For God's sake, Charity! “Did you?” “YVes,’ i “You would not have known, nor noticed, four years ago, so you may have been in doubt: Did you ask yourself if | had a provincial accent? He jumped to his feet, galled to the limit of endurance. “There's nothing to keep you except common decency,’ Charity said. He sat down again. “I thank you for your honesty, Why ” Bickley, she went on. “I wanted to find out some- thing. I had to know it. They write, they talk a lot about women's chances, new openings, and all that. Is it rot?” He was startled, moved by her intensity, by the deep feeling with which she spoke. ‘I wanted to know just why you threw me over,” she cried. “If I knew exactly, I might alter it. If it is birth and the bar- maid, can I live it down? I want to put my foot on the ladder too. I want to climb. Has the war changed women? Will the sort you have a chance to know now givea helping hand? They don’t here. Can I dimb. Bickley? You have.” A long silence, then: “I have a profes- sion, Charity. ‘That means that I cannot.” “Your ambitions are vague.” “T have them, since you killed love in me,”’ she said with a fierce repression. ‘I'll Bickley, a woman's secret. There’s a class war, they say. They say that labor flames with hatred against capital. Well, there’s a deeper hatred than that, more bitter, soundless, never ending. It is the hate of the woman worker for the lady loafer.” ‘God, but you are bitter!”’ ou a secret, he said under his breath, but she heard “You have made me so,” she answered to that. ‘‘Ladies work at the hospital. Maggie Colling is They They will, in wartime a V. A. D. there too kee p her at arm’s length. They bar her in a thousand ways, Ways a man would not see. Is it the same everywhere? Is it a lie that war has broken down class distinctions? Is it a lie that women are just one woman to another, just friendly, and kind—and equal? Yes, that’s it—equal—in France, in London? Is it only here, in this corner, where we are so far away and shut out of everything, that girls like me tear out our hearts against invisible barbed ? Art women different from men? You were a ranker. That’s not remembered now. You are man to man with your brother officers. I’m doing here the work you left. I'm running the Home Farm because there was no one else to do it. Iam doing more. I am practically running the estate. Miss Lingard does not understand, cannot learn, and does what I tell her. It’s for my country. It’s to produce wheat and meat wires and milk. I was a ranker just like you. I’ve done good work just like you. I'm a captain here, on this estate. But I’m barred from the officers’ mess. Is it the or same everywhere? A long sile nce, a bitterness that never change.’ then he said slowly with equaled hers: ‘‘ Women EVENING POST ‘I was afraid it was all rot,”’ she uttered mournfully. She rose to her feet. ‘That settles it. When the war ends I am going to the States.” ‘The same—there.” He stood by her side, I dare say. But I shall not be the same. I can leave some things behind.” They walked slowly along the shadow of the w: all “T am sorry for my ou tburst, Bickley, she said in a friendly way. ‘‘ Don't bel lieve everything I said. You've been very decent. You haven't said you were You haven't said you were unworthy of me. You haven’t asked me to forgive you. You’ve just let me work it off and you've been truthful.” ‘You forced it,” he admitted. “IT wa ready to play the rotter.”” An instant’ silence, then he added with a convincing sincerity: “I should never have the telegram if I had foreseen this night.” “T believe that,’”’ Charity quickly accepted. “I’m glad you said it. I've grown too, and you didn’t think of that May I give you one word of warning? It’ to spare you.” He stopped with a jerk, his mus cles taut “If you woul 1 rather not “Go on,” he said. His voice was thick. “You've been in that hospital a month. sOrry. sent You came, broken, nervy. You could just hobble about. You were not in her ward, but you were where she was when you could Your eyes followed her always could. We hear everything in the village, remember. Nobody thought anything of it. You had worshiped her always. You had been her father’s orderly, her slave. You asked me to come here to- night. You wanted that lette : back. Why, after two years? I can think of only one reason. You are going to-morrow But before you go you intend to propose to Dorothy Lingard.” She had put her hand on his arm. She could feel that he trembling. He opened his mouth to speak, but he could when they was utter no word. He had been literally rendered dumb by her extraordinary in- sight ‘Don’t do it, Bickley,” she pleaded. “She does not understand. She hardly realizes that her position is altered. She will forget that yours is changed. You will get the humiliation of your life.” He bent his head to her ear. ‘‘Too late,” His voice was a broken whisper. ‘‘I told her to-night-—just now. She stared, just tared, and she couldn’t speak. When she could she said: ‘You-—-a common soldier!’ I caught her by the shoulde rs I her till her teeth chattered. I left her with her hair down and her head on the table, sobbing, sobbing. Perhaps she’ there yet.” He turned and strode away. hook I shook Charity went home, breathing hard all the way. vi OMETHING hit Roger on the head ) He sat upright, to receive a stinging pebble on the cheek He heard other tinklir g or the window panes He jumped from his bed and looked out. Charity, ina clean cowman’s smock, laughed her trouble out in twenty words. Inside as mar minutes he was at the farmhouse “Take their names and the quantit Charity ordered The ninth that of Mat Colling at which he lad Wait ng for r rottage milk wa a jug he heard the voice of a girl in the kitchen: ‘*And she was erying and crying I heard her as | passed the door. And then Muriel Ward and I came home together and he passed us, just near the gate He never seemed to see us, nor said good night nor anything, he was that ipset, al d we hurried, and then in front. going up the street was Charity And ther w But the little girl returned th the quart pitcher. “Tell your mother,” said Roger, “that she must send for the milk after th We give it out betwee even and ¢ ! ever morning, and five and six every evening Tell her there is no one to keep a nt any more. She must send the mone He — aid this at every house He had grasper ituation. He would teach the village effi ency When he came to the house of Mu Ward he heard part of an eager discussion amid the clatter of teacups. “ found out he was snooping off to a secret meeting with Charity and taxed him, and he just ing and went Muriel! A left her cry HOTT g taking up with a Ryker! nonsense, Lingard W M bu we bu was “It is not, and grand rib what's she? bons ard ajest Roger was t Colonel Rvker had alre ady nt to the railway station at Ca t the colonel did not come unti! approaching. Roger salute word in to a de on his pl vate, > : serted end of the pli yes and wearied ¢ The colonel aj “Th train had 1 a Lit ory of are night, * his fi or d ot ward,” yhan Miss » my mother. He's a co in his ways tunic. And what’ +r voice and x ame in the A landle maid officer. ’Tis right at the hospita ” ) ( itiorr a | eoard tae. ppeared to see t words were “T sai topped precious time 7 he said, “I One has Turle is in Bagdad. Th affairs. village KOss]p say After hospital you crying to go to meet the other off deeply mi Miss T “T fal The wer surprised : with difficulty sorry. I indant. ‘Will ‘Il ow ow rupted own, m) you must do a are lac he do op rey no ot you before,” he iid the t pa your die ; “None moved tow you ask urle as well as Mis e nothing to you. maintain the sorry,” he said will write to l am greatly the am duchess t as th You are | that to both,” w se pretenses ‘For the best ‘For the sake ormy re rather you did uw about tt ithor to these re vith either.”” the color Wl the other turned me dow He toc er wated t wive the wit rt The e ] fo He ye dre Pp hit m the t} at me the ier’ r he yer fo a trunk ir pro xd office and ad for rs before was a shor I he ! parlor wa 1dOW, Pazing } window 1 am deeply Tle spent all the after ry old ! a lained } iwhed a He we the nt mort Via ippointed hour, ¢ baye’r and and: the farmers; he wa harity, t there. She had | g when he had told Continued on Page 98 and th to blame of reasons,” Ro dthe train. “It eat and looked thre lor e she o5 el now, two t 1 mw; of Marti: Hi him gone atl th ‘ 1, ask and followed the col have two co no brother. The bri eir hour left ind mortified Ry Ker dign ity the 0 pre Lingar d” e an wre u er i l by nine o’cloc} fie chepe, i } 1 nly clothe ye eager for y aug her mill j er f agres

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96 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST November 29,1919 , rYPE WD i ving a Ye Bras: ile, The Type WD is fim t Brascolit Improved Supporting Brascolite Reflecting Plane made of Scientific configuration of the white glass 1 Pripo mplest vice for attaching to 4 white porcelain on steel—positively will bowl thoroughly breaks up the intense any tric outlet not discolor. light rays of the Mazda lamp and softens them by diffusion. This principh has made Brascolite the ideal light for eye Brascolite Socket. ma of porcelain health and comfort, exceeding in efficiency with | ted terminals—no wire s| that of any other light-diffusing fixture in “hapa pepe , d Or ex : be Brascolite Spindles hold reflector-canopy the world. 5 Hush with the ceiling and also support the bowl. Adjustable to correctly position | hoe a) ¥ lite Pull ele! pichee ; ee 4 Brases Switch ¢ Of the bow! for controlling every ray of light, Ventilation upward through the hole 5) construct sulat material, 660 thus insuring untform light distribution / assures long lamp life and least accu- watt capacity. with maximum efthciency. mulation of dust. Largest selling lighting

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—Teat a ee ee LULIT THE SATURDAY EVENING POST

97

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OS (Continued from Page 95) plan, and predicte tter f ire. But half the people came, i i half those who came brought the mone kmpt inded chil- dre istonished, went A with empty pitcher Mothers came gr Chey had a penny in the I lend it t ol own | t till to-morr af * the milk- ma haki said | f Mi Purl isk her t ‘ ’ must ad part ‘ ime after hour If they had oung children, as a great favor he opened the dair door There vas an vwkward moment with a capta Ie Phe soldier w ‘ j } tu j y That ne pread er the | e& and did near t rr nt ire the ieee of the re tionar cheme a Roger patience ind tact In th modest manner the Lord of the Manor of St. Dyfrigs began to organize his village Hie was vlad to slip away be fore Charity came lie was so tired out that he did not vant her to see him He ate some dry bread and eanned beef which he had brought from Castlechepe, and tumbled ome to bed At eleven the next morning Charity led him atross fields up the hillside. She had heard that the Tudds had empty rooms If he could get in there he would be more comfortable than at the cottage, where there was no one to look after him He watched her with sympathy and admi ration If she had been turned down by Bickley Ryker none could have guessed. he seemed to be in the highest spirits. She laughed when a small sheep with a long tail jumped a four foot hawthorn hedge couldn't keep Welsh field,”” she told taine he sheep from Merioneth in any said, ‘but he wouldn't listen.’ “Patchy,” she said of a wheat field, “It's old pasture taine couldn't be lieve he had no rights on his own farm in ind he held off plowing up till the wartime magistrates fined him ten pounds. There'll be half a « rop here ay tifteen bushels to the acre Not even an American average,’ Roger aid ‘Ours is thirty-two,” Charity answered; “but they don’t manure properly over there and the heart soon goes out of the land.” lhey're beginning to,”” Roger answered A mixed flock of jackdaws and rook chattering and cawing, jumped as a unit into the air. Charity chuckled Old Martin farms ninety acres,”’ she iid, “‘and he fought against tractor plow They're new to us and we had a lot of trouble to get them used ‘I sticks to horses,’ old Martin announced, ‘so as the rooks'll follow the furrow and eat the wireworm They're afeard of tractors.’”’ Rut Charity added: “His horses didn’t The army took them, and wears by tractor inted to erossbred Shorthorr linseed or cottonseed cake We shan't be able autumn.” atick to him now he grazing two-year-olds, and Herefords. ‘‘No * she deplored, to fatten them in the She pr “Chaps who have been in Egypt tell me,’ Roger said, ‘“‘that they're burning cottonseed there in railroad engines and hotel kitehen Rather funny,” Charity exclaimed ‘locomotives in Pharaoh's land eating the food of our cattle They passed a haystacl ‘Last year’ Charity explained. “Forty tons, | should think. Manners had to sell stock in the winter for want of keep He dared not touch that rick “ee the label, ‘W. D.’ That means War Department, and the er can't touch a wisp She pointed to a neat, tiny path through owr a hole in a hedge Badger,” she uid ** His sett is in the next field but one. I've een him twice, There are not many about.” She stopped and pointed. Roger saw a hundred yards off a rabbit apparently pur iing one of the weasel tribe in an always narrowing circle, “It always that,’’ Charity said. “The rabbit is and seems to be chasing the stoat.”’ aw the stoat A lapwing rose and wheeled beautifully, uttering mournful cries. Charity scanned the adjoining pasture. “There!” she cried, There —in a line with that tree, the hen bird, sidling, slipping away A second brood, late lke large r Ihe y looks pounce if you can find the nest or the young They came to a rough lane. “This will lead you to the farmyard,” she explained Mark her, and see sometime THE SATURDAY “IT must go on. If her price for rooms is too high, never mind. There’s a fund, you kno N, for convalescing soldiers = He told her that he had some money. She looked at him with kindly eyes. “I ought not to have asked you to de liver that You look tired still.” milk,” she said will work,” he predicted viy che mie confidently Charity admitted that she had a faint hope. “See if you can get some butter,” he said. “It’s against regulations, but there’s a little consumptive girl in the lage.” “Margie Jenkins,” he interrupted. “She's waiting for a government vacancy in a now everybody,” she said, smil- ‘The T Ing idds are very well off,” she udided, “‘but they work hard and they’ve lost nearly all their men. If nobody’s at home, search the fields.” She went on her way with a gay wave of the hand He watched her out of sight, relieved to think that Bickley Ryker had never cost her an hour's sleep. Ile crossed the farmyard, astonished at olid stone outbuildings and estimating that the estate had put just about five thousand unnecessary dollars in them. He entered through the open cullery door, noted the absence of fire from the his estate the kitchen range, and correctly inferred that the family was in the fields. He crossed to the dairy, inspecte 1 shelves, lifted lids of crocks, examined the sepa- rator, peered into the churn, and finally opened the gauze door of the meat safe. Yes, at last; a quarter pound pat of butter; but it lay on a plate on a tray. This luncheon tray held a small silver pepper pot and a silver saltcellar, some delicate slices of cold lamb, a slice of « heese, a roll baked from pure white flour, some potato salad, a tomato, and vinegar in a cut-glass bottle A small ilver vase held one William Allan Richardson rose, and the tray was covered by a teacloth of fine linen embroidered so exquisitely that Roger noticed the border and touched it with his finger. He frowned angrily. Tudd was well off, and he had heard that Mrs. Tudd had had her own runabout until the authorities cut off gasoline Why, then, hould she do things like this for any of these luxurious boarders who were eating the neighborhood bare? He eyed the butter indignantly: four al allowance for one doled Ounces two weel ley person, all in a lump; villagers were out margarine by the grain, and spread it o thin that their children denied that it was ther He frowned at the slices of kill I He lambs was illegal the white roll, appetizing, un lamb To peere d at lawful. Where could fine flour have come from’? The cheese was real Cheddar, made of unskimmed milk, he thought; even Caerphilly cheese, of skim milk, he had been told, had been rare for two months in that neighborhood. The tomato was a eurtosity Experts who grew luxuries under glass were fighting now or planting and mangolds. All this was for , ornamental woman. The old wheelwright, by his own computation, had eaten half a pound a day, for forty years, of fine old mellowed Cheddar, ripened on Yesterday he had supped said, at all wecde ome usete helves and hi ow on bread event As Roger went back through the kitchen he cast h Not a ham, not a side of bacon hung from the black oak Farmers in this 1918 summer of food controllers and rationing were not, so their hog products on had been told of one farmer whose locked spare bedroom was like and of another whose feathering | no longer devoted to plucking geese and fowls He glanced at the oil stove in the scullery ind saw! that the oven was still lacking. onions; so he s to the ceiling eye beam to peak, wearing thew PO VE He a provision store Use Was As a loyal American he was glad that American manufactures were entering distant farmhouses, but regretted that ubmarines had got the ship that held the oven He had been told this in London; here was the proof He sauntered across the farmyard and made his way round to the front. He was sure that the room had been taken, and that no Tudds were at home but he was curious to see what manner of person so luxuriously violated a dozen food laws on one lunch tray. \ sudden din and clatter drew him at a run to the open front door, where he saw a frantic colt kicking the hatrack to pieces. He tretched out his leg, clasped the EVENING POST animal’s head and wrestled. As the colt’s hind heels were high in the air, of course he scored a fall. It toppled, so did he. His head banged a door open. He lay sprawled, panting, almost breathless, half his body in the room, the colt’s head beneath him. The colt was helpless. So was he. If he moved, the colt might jump up and kick this room to ruin. ‘*What shall you do next The startled Roger lifted his head. A girl was standing in the middle of the room—an unreal, unfamiliar kind of girl who provoked instant antagonism. He stared. She was very pretty. She was beautifully dressed. She was beautifully useless. In a farmhouse in this busy time, in a filmy white dress with ruffles and fur- belows and silk stockings and high-heeled slippers—oh, but she was decorative, any- way. His stern brow relaxed. ““Well?”’ she demanded. She came and sat in a chair near him and in two senses looked down on him. Her manner was arrogant and lacked the unobtrusive con- descension that most great ladies extended to soldiers. She was not a great lady. She was too young to be that; but she would be, one day. She had the beginnings of the grand manner. “I beg your pardon,” the young man stammered, flushing red. He looked in vain for a relenting gleam in the cold, blue- gray eyes. There was no smile in them. There was on the lips. It was supercilious. “The mare,” he faltered, “‘must be in the field. f would step out 9” If you—if you of the windowand drive hertothe door He paused. “Well?” “Well, I might push the colt’s head out and shut this door, and he wouldn’t kick this room to flinders by joining mother through the window.” The girl looked at him, then down at her helpless, high-hee slippers. His followed hers. T new dark bronze slippers shimmered insolently of luxury. The bronze stockings glistened with opulent idleness. They were an insult to eyes SILK this solid, oak-beamed farmhouse. They were a slight to the countryside, where almost every resident gentlewoman and serving maid was working in a hospital or in the fields. “T heard the clatter on the stone floor,” the girl said. "a opened the door. That frightened the colt. I shut the door again The hatrack was already in ruins. There was nothing else to break. If you had not come the colt would be in the field now.’ He jumped up, fuming, hoping the colt would choose the window. It darted through the front door. “*How simple,” the girl remarked dryly. The colt passed the window kicking high its off hind leg, whose pastern was circled by an absurd frill of gauzy white. Roger hoped and believed that the frill had once been her hat, and he was glad. It checked at the open gate, wheeled, and jumped exultantly into a bed of glow- ing French poppies. Roger rushed out and drove it off. He picked up the handful of bent wire and tulle and lace and placed it on the gatepost. Then he shut the gate, himself outside. It was the first time in his life that he had turned his back on a girl or snubbed one; the hat on the post was meant for asnub. He turned away. ‘*Please bring it,” she called Her voice was very pleasant. It included a softened, husky note which gave it character. He looked up. She beckoned imperiously. She stood leaning indolently against the casement, luxurious, exquisite. His scowl vanished He obeyed the summoning finger. Perhaps she would redeem or ex- plain herself. If only she would be one per cent as good as she looked; he smiled as he handed her the shapeless trifle “The dustbin for that, I'm afraid,” he said, but his manner showed that he was not afraid, but pleased. She glanced up, and the cool eyes nipped his smile. She was absorbed in the hat; he, in her. She was pale, he saw; but he saw, too, that the healthy, creamy pallor was that of the prehistoric girl who used sunshades and protected her complexion. He noted her hands, delicately white. He had heard and read that helpless hands had been admired in older days. Yet her fingers were strong, supple and dexterous; they deftly ripped and dissected. In the end he saw her wind about them a strip that even his ignorant eyes recog- nized as rare lace “I didn’t know,” getic. every 1e said, slightly apolo- November 29, 19/9 I did not expect you to,” she answered, but the ungracious words were softened by a flickered smile. The smile was for lace untorn and not for him, but he was pleased all the same. “Would you mind?” She swept him with less arrogant eyes, turned about, pointed to a chair, then stretched a lazy arm toward the lawn. He picked up the indicated chair and carried it across the sloping lawn to the shade of the stately cedar of Lebanon, the glory of that farmhouse, the solitary king of that hilltop, visible and honored for miles about. He carried rugs, too, and cushions, and disposed them as she di- rected: the waterproof rug first, then the soft Shetland wool, then the fine linen one embroidered with an indecipherable mono- gram. The young man felt like a lackey, but every time he looked at her he was glad that he was there. Such is the power of beauty over young soldiers who for four years have dipped stew out of tin buckets, and yearned indescribably for lost refine- ments, elegancies of life, and girls. She tripped across the lawn like a prin- but she and all her accessories were so unsuited to time and place that he thought of a princess in an open-air pageant. She seated herself on the em- broidered rug and leaned lazily back among the heaped-up cushions against the great trunk of the cedar. “There are cigarettes in the room,” she said indifferently as she looked out over the far-distant waters. “‘Anything else?” he asked in abrupt rebuke. He might just as well have been pleasant for all that she knew or cared. She only shook her head. An instant later his eyes roved the solid, stolid room A gold mesh-purse, stuffed full, lay on an oak table. An alligator-skin bag gaped, dis- closing gold-stoppered bottles. A pair of high soft leather French shoes lay on the cess; farmhouse piano. A fawn-colored cloth jacket lined with crimson silk had been flung on the floor. A paper-covered book lay open, face down, on the sofa He glanced at the title: , Lui et Elle. There were masses of flowers, early pink ramblers, most of them; but a large crude vase held a bunch of exotic orchids. On the chimneypiece rested a hand-painted, be- ribboned box of Paris chocolate creams a forgotten prohibited luxury; a silver- and-ivory manicure set; a monogrammed gold cigarette case and a gold matchbox All these things were new. The gold gleamed. The silver shone. The ivory was not yet even creamy. The alligator hide glistened like a fresh-burst chestnut. The surprised investigator looked in vain for signs of a man. A honeymoon could not justify but it could explain. He turned, eagerly curious, thoughtful, depressed. This prodigality carried a vague sinister suggestion. As he stepped out of the window he saw on a side table a dish of strawberries, a jug of thick yellow cream and a bow! of sugar. This was the final touch for him. A dairy, empty except for her lunch, and here was cream. To eat cream at all was against the law and defiant of common decency Sugar too, a bowlful, two legal allowance at least; mothers in the village could not buy, beg or borrow enough for their babies. Strawberries, ahead of the local season, he knew. Whose labor had been wasted in ripening fruit and tomatoes under glass for a healthy, greedy girl? He scowled across at her as a farmer's wife might scowl at a cat discovered in the dairy. She was gazing out over the beautiful valley, unconscious of his disapproving scrutiny. Beneath the wide stretching cool branches she looked a lovely idol, canopied by a Chinese pagoda. She had the detachment of an idol, its immobility, {ts insensibility. Sitting there so still, so cut off by a monstrous egotism from a world of suffering and renunciation, she froze the eagerly curious watcher. She had no wooden head, but she had a heart of that was his thought as he crossed oak weeks’ stone; to her. “For you,” she said, waving a hand toward the chair; ‘“‘and the cigarettes.” He accepted the astonishing invitation in silence, grasping the chance to satisfy his flaming curiosity. He was now the alert, watchful hypocrite, brimming with that perfect hypocrisy which can be achieved only by young people who have no real guile in them. She was just close enough so that stretched arms could bring finger (Continued on Page 102)

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST Dependable as the courses of the stars LWAYS we see every star and planet in the heavens, exactly where it belongs — pursuing its course in the me- thodical manner that allows astrologers to compute with accuracy exactly where it will be, in the heavens, at all times. The same persistence in the carrying out of its mission in life, without the slightest deviation from the fixed course assigned it, has given to every Splitdorf Magneto almost the same depend- ability. The greatest of all the qualities of Splitdorf Magnetos is dependability. In addition it gives an engine greater strength and vitality during hard pulls—makes an easy get-away on accelera- tion—results in extreme flexibility and perfect control of the speed and power range—and frees the engine completely from the complications of other ignition systems. ) — ‘Elovirical Co., Newark. N J. ' . Me! Sumter Division, 1464 Michidan Ave. Chicado Manuféctiirers of AEROSUMTER ana DIXIE Masnetos; Oscillating Magnetos and Impulse Starters. - Ses? 9. “FS me te Ne a9

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100 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST November 29, 1919 SELINICK Orgeriis EUGENE O'BRIEN

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S¢ Oeeteer 22ST COM! 2 ee | * ° 4 \ 5) A THE SATURDAY EVENING POST 4) | HINK of any ten persons you know. 4, They're all different. That’s individu- j] ality. seen. A good many of them are just like the restofthem. Then think of any SELZNICK PICTURE you have seen. It was different. It had individuality. Some pictures are made by mixing guess- work with hope—like a bride making a cake. SELZNICK PICTURES have achieved indi- viduality through years of consistent effort to build up the ideal producing organization. At the best theatre in your neighborhood you can see for yourself that SELZNICK PICTURES create happy hours. SME OT TP ee ene ee RRR RS Be Se ar 20 gore ae Pe c y Segre ae SIRES RT AE TPT REE ELOISE B 101

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1u2 (Continued from Page 98) tips to meet. She shook her head when he held out the resplendent cigarette case; she nestled in the cushions and stared up at cool depths of green. He watched her through fragrant smoke. His cigarette was decorated by no mere- tricious blazonry of monogram or gilded crown, but its quality matched that of the gold case. He had not had such a smoke in months. “I dreamed of a village where they on just the same old way,” she said said it was three miles from a railway, went ‘They that newspapers never came, that mails were always a day late, that old men basked against sunny walls. Oh, who is the patriarch with the beard of Abrahi im and the great hairy hands of Esau’ He told of the old saddler and harness maker. She asked about the gypsy-eyed woman with the nose like a scimitar. A seaman’s wife, he told her, from the north. She questioned about others. She had driven through the village yesterday, she told him, and had seen these quaint people. He was astonished by her keen observa- tion, by the sharp vignettes which she cut in words. He asked questions in his turn, cunning, artless, looking at her from ingenuous, candid She did not seem to evade, though sometimes she ignored. He learned nothing —just nothing Two spots of light ran down the tree trunk and made two bright circles in her brown hair like two Australian sovereigns, which are ruddier than English coins. The soldier glanced down the hillside. Five hundred yards away the sun was making molten fire of a cottage window. eyes. If she doesn't I'll have to try. But I’ve no flair with women, Bassy. Betty, tell Miss Middleton that the directors are adjusting that matter now, and will let her know about it. And Betty “Yes, Mr. Graftleigh? “ Please close the transom from the other side.” “Yes, Mr. Graftleigh.’ “Hope that will give the old hag a jar. Well, Bassy, we might as well get busy. I've got a new form letter to dope out, Your end of this game is a lead-pipe cinch. I have to do all the dirty work.” “Glad you think so.” Beveridge resumed his manuscripts, and there was silence private office until Miss Reynolds examination of in the reap peared. Her eyes gleamed with excitement not wholly unpleasurable. She left the door slightly ajar “Miss Middleton wants to know how soon you can let her know about the royal ties,”’ she said. “One of the clients has an appointment for twelve.” “Tell Misa Middleton she shall have the report within five minutes,’ said Graft- leigh, speaking slowly and _ distinctly. ‘That is all, Miss Reynolds.” “Well, Bassy, wish me luck,” he whis pered a moment later, “I've got to make the plunge. That was an SOS call.” Squaring his shoulders he opened the door wide, strode into the outer office, and faced a tall gaunt gray-haired woman with beady black Roman and a square chin “Pardon me just a moment, madam,” he said with a low bow which did not soften eyes, a nose the expression of withering scorn with which the visitor regarded him ‘The directors have decided, Miss Middleton, that our favorable negotiations will not involve any change in the royalty rates originally offered Now then, madam, won't you be seated?” he smiled ingratiatingly ‘at the purple plumes that surmounted Miss Goodell’s turban, but that lady shook her head “Your airs and graces are quite wasted on me, young man,” she snapped. “I came here to find out why you have not com- plied with the terms of your contract, and I don’t intend to leave until I do find out, and until my forty dollars is refunded.’ “But my dear madam, there must be some mistake. Miss Middleton, have you investigated this lady’s claim?’ ‘There's nothing about me for that young woman to investigate,’’ broke in Miss Goodell; “‘and I don’t propose to be sulted, Mr. Graftleigh, by a man of your varacter. You signed a solemn contract » furnish first-class music for my song and THE SATURDAY “T came to find Sleepy Hollow,” she said. ‘‘Instead I find a horrid, bustling little town and a village bursting with people. Tell me how it came about.” She had become so much more human that he thought of a child begging fairy tales. She looked just like that to him now. He gave her part of what everybody knew, speaking guardedly about munitions, and she listened with growing interest. She asked about generals and colonels in com- mand at Castlechepe, and the German prisoners and their camp, and how many soldiers there were, and what regiments and battalions were represented. With his jolly smile Roger dodged her queries. It was ridiculous to think her a spy, he thought, but he had learned to be cautious. She looked over the circled park and spoke of the romantic story of the missing heir. What was the young lady like? Was she as lovely as Mrs. Tudd had said? And that striking girl who wore such a beauti- fully hand-smocked, weird old garment was she as clever as she looked? She was in the story somehow, Mrs. Tudd had told her; how? “How long have you been here?” Roger asked bluntly. “Since yesterday.” “‘And where did you see Miss Turle? “*We passed her in the village.” “You see everything,” he said in an awed tone, “even to the stitches in a girl’s clothes.” “They don’t do such work nowadays,” she answered indifferently. ‘Tell me about her, and the other one.” He sketched his two cousins, painting a picture that interested the girl. EVENING POST “He should marry her,” she said when he had finished. “Which one?” he asked. “If Miss Lingard refuses him,” she re- sponded, “‘he is bound to propose to the other.” “You go further than anybody else,’ was the response. She dropped that subject and asked him about that pretty girl whose chestnut was so well groomed and who had such a good seat, and he said with censure in his man- ner —_ this young lady was one of the swar She lifted level brows in a question. “Of locusts,” he explained, eying her. “They came in the spring. They lighted everywhere, these officers’ wives and daughters who ought to have stayed at home. They begged and pushed their way into every farmhouse and cottage. They have lapped up all the milk. They have bought all the bacon. Churns have stopped. Cheese has stopped. Do you see the point? In their own homes, from their own neighbors, the villagers cannot get their usual food. They would not mind if these people worked, but they only make work.” The girl got as red as any ripe cherry on the tree in the orchard beyond her. He could hear her quick breathing, could see her breast storming up and down. He leaned his head back and tried to blow rings of smoke up through layers of hori- zontal fan foliage. Therings were not round, because his lips twitched. He had never rebuked a girl before like that. He waited to be ordered away, but there was only silence. Well, anyway, he was something ANYONE CAN WRITE (Continued from Page 21) to put it on the market in consideration of an advance payment of forty dollars. was fool enough to put up the money, which you have simply pocketed. But don’t think you can escape the consequences of your crime.” “You are talking in riddles, madam. Any contract made by the Merriweather Musie Company is adhered to in the small- est particular. Miss Middleton, have you the record of this case?” “Yes, Mr. Graftleigh. Everything is quite in order, as I have already explained to the lady. We received the manuscript of her lyric, entitled I Always Knew My Boy Was Not a Coward, on November eighth, wrote a letter on November fif- teenth, offering our special contract pro- viding for music to be composed by Mr. Beveridge, and agreeing to refund the regular fee of forty dollars in case the song was not accepted for publication within thirty days after she had O. K’d. the music. We received a contract with her signature and a post-office order for forty dollars on November twenty-first, and for- warded to her on November twenty-fifth a duplicate contract signed by you as presi- dent of the company. On December third we sent her the manuscript of the melody and accompaniment for her lyric composed by Mr. Beveridge, and received a letter from her on December tenth, stating that she approved of the music as written, and authorizing us to submit the words and music to publishers in accordance with the terms of the contract. The Verdi Publish- ing Company notified us on December twenty-seventh that it would bring out the complete number at the earliest possible date, copyrighted in the name of Abby Goodell, and that Miss Goodell would re- ceive a royalty of four cents on each copy sold. We sent a copy of the publisher's letter to Miss Goodell on thatsame date. On January twenty-fourth we were notified that the Verdi Publishing Company had published the song, and that thirty copies had been forwarded to the author. “A letter was received from Miss Goodell on February twelfth, stating that she had received no royalties from the sale of her song, and inquiring how many copies had been sold. We replied on the same date, explaining that our connection with the matter ceased with the acceptance of the song for publication, and suggesting that she apply to the Verdi company for any further information desired.’ “Quite correct,” remarked Miss Goodell sarcastically. “‘The young woman has al- ready recited it to me. Now perhaps, Mr. Graftleigh, you will be kind enough to listen to my record.” “Nothing would give me greater pleasure, madam, but I have only a few moments at my py aay “‘A few moments are all I need. After receiv ing your communi¢ ation of February twelfth, I wrote three times to the Verdi Publishing Company and finally received a letter from them stating that they made reports to clients only once in six months and that mine was not due until September. What have you to say to that?” “Officially, madam, I can say nothing as to your arrangements with the Verdi company. As, however, you are one of our clients and have asked for my advice, I don’t mind telling you informally that so far as I know the terms offered you by the Verdi company are quite in accordance with the general custom of publishing houses. In fact, I believe some of them make settlements with authors only once a year.” “That may be true, but how do you ac- count for the fact that though my song was — about seven weeks ago it has not een placed on sale anywhere in New York City or Philadelphia?” “If such is the fact, madam, I could not account for it, as I have no knowledge of the Verdi company’s methods of distribu- tion. But are you quite sure you are cor- rect in saying that the song is on sale now here in New York or Philadelphia?” “Sure enough for all practical purposes. I have communicated with thirty-five music dealers and with eight department stores, and every one of them said they had never heard of the song and were sure it was not on any of their publishers’ lists. Under the circumstances, Mr. Graftleigh, I must ask you to refund the forty dollars I paid you.” “I am very sorry, madam, that you feel you have not had efficient service from the Verdi company. Spring, you know, is the busiest season of the year with publishers, and then, too, distribution of new publi- cations is seriously handicapped just at present by the freight situation and—er complications in the post-office depart- ment.” “Your apologies do not interest me, Mr. Graftleigh. Kindly return my forty dollars, and you may have my four cents royalty on the first thousand copies sold.” Graftleigh achieved a short laugh. ‘‘ You are pleased to be humorous, madam. You do not, of course, think that the fee paid to the Merriweather Music Company is in any way contingent upon royalties you may or may not receive from the sale of your song?” “You song for me. certainly agreed to market the ” November 29, 19/9 more to her now than a wooden soldier or a guidebook to the neighborhood. He had made her blush with shame; and, well, she deserved it. He glanced down suddenly. He surprised vivid, eager eyes as curious as his own, saw the hitherto indolent figure alertly curved in interrogation as she thrust her head for- ward in questioning poise. Their glances held. She dissolved into another girl as he looked, a girl aloof, indifferent and loung- ing. The transformation was quick, but it was a glide. It was no ¢rude clapping on of a mask, but an apparent inward transition of feel- ing, shown outwardly by a corresponding change of face and of attitude. Tiny arrows of light shot across his face and made him blink, then flashed on the tree trunk and on her dress. ‘“*What did that?”’ she asked. He pointed to the flaming window down the hillside. “The sun playing tricks,” he knew better. Faint far-away notes from a bugle gave him an excuse for rising. The girl set the soldiers’ words to this call. She sang softly: ‘*Come to the cook- house door. “You have been very interesting,” she said. ‘‘Thank you. You have also been un- expectedly frank. I will forgive that.” She bent her head in dismissal. Roger slipped round to the back, stole her butter and then went hunting for the man—or woman—who was spying on them through a pair of field glasses. he said. But (TO BE CONTINUED) “We certainly did not.” Graftleigh’s manner became a trifle more aloof and he spoke more rapidly. ‘‘We agreed, in con- sideration of a payment of forty dollars, to have an original melody and piano accom- paniment prepared for your lyric’ by Mr. Basil Beveridge and to submit the same for your approval within three weeks after the receipt of the fee. We agreed further to submit the completed number as approved by you to music publishers on a royalty basis, and we stipulated that you should not be required to pay any fee to the pub- lishing company accepting the song, and that the song should be copyrighted in your name. Because of the unusual excellence of your song we added a special clause to your contract providing that in the event of our failing to secure a publisher’s acceptance of the song on a royalty basis of at least three cents on each copy sold, within thirty days after our receipt of the approved manu- script of the music, your fee should be re- turned to you. According to our record, which you have admitted is correct, and which is otherwise confirmed by documents in our possession, all the terms of the con- tract signed by you as author and by me as president of the Merriweather Music Com- pany have been complied with. In fact, we did much better than we promised in se- curing you a royalty rate of four cents—a most unusual concession and one we are not always able to obtain.” ‘But this is all on paper,” objected Miss Goodell a little uncertainly. ‘‘What differ- ence does it make what the royalty rate is if the songs are not sold?’ Graftleigh shrugged hisshoulders. ‘‘ That is a chance which publishers and authors always take, but in this case you are some- what premature in assuming that your song will not sell. Frequently songs do not go well at all for several months and then suddenly become great hits.” “If my song were introduced into some popular musical comedy wouldn’t its chances of selling be greater?” “Very probably they would.” “Why don’t you do it then?” Graftleigh and Miss Middieton exchanged glances of shocked surprise. “You have evidently drawn false con- clusions from remarks you have overheard regarding the affairs of some of our other clients. I cannot, of course, discuss the matter with you, but I am willing to assure you that any arrangements of the sort you mention have been made by our clients themselves. Some songs are specially adapted to the personality of particular stars. I don’t say that yours is not. I hope that it is.”’ Continued on Page 104)

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104 Continued from Page 102) ‘I don’t even get money back until 1 thousand copies have been sold,” said Miss Goodell! after a moment's frowning re- Hoeetior No, but you have the sati faction of literary achievement.” Fudge! How many copies of my song have been printed?” ‘I haven’t the slightest idea, madam. Doubtless your publisher can tell you.” “Do you mean to say that you do busi- ness with these publishers right along, and don’t know how many copies of a song they print My own affairs, madam, are sufficient to occupy my time. The size of editions of ongs is a matter which concerns the pub- lisher and the author “Tl am glad you admit it concerns me.” “Lam willing to admit anything, madam, that does not involve me in matters which are entirely outside of my jurisdiction and beyond my contr — “This Verdi company is obviously dis- honest,” declared Miss Goodell, ‘“‘and I shall hold you responsible for mixing me up with it. Return my forty dollars im mediately and get my song back from them within three days or I will have you ar- sented.” “T will overlook your unwarrantable lan- guage, madam, as you are evidently labor- ing under strong excitement,” said Graft- leigh with an obvious effort to retain his detached manner; ‘‘and I must ask you to excuse me now, as I have an imperative engagement. Miss Middleton, do not hold any further conversation with this lady. If she wishes any additional information in regard to her contract with this company she must take the matter up with our cor poration counsel, Mr. Victor Benson. Good morning, madam “Water, Bassy!" he moaned a moment later as he sank into the chair opposite Beveridge. “‘The curse has come upon us She was too to igh a nut for me to crack and I had to send her to Benson. Call him up quick, and ask him to meet me at Deene’s for lunch. I'll have to put him wise. And you'd better grab the first train for Philly, Bassy, and coach your people so they won't make any break if the Housa- tonic poetess descends upon them sud- denly. If Benson can’t pacify her she’s likely to make the Verdi her next stopping place. Well, ta-ta. Make Benson under- tand it’s a must,” Late that afternoon Beveridge, sitting at the rented piano in the little room off the main office of the Verdi Publishing Com- pany, painstakingly evolving original melo- dies with the aid of two volumes of college songs and a collection of choice selections for banjo and guitar, was interrupted by the entrance of Miss Genevieve Dale, manager of the advertising and circulation departments, and secretary to the president, “I don't quite understand this telegram, Mr. Beveridge,” she said. “It has just come, and it seems to be urgent.” Beveridge paled slightly as he took the yellow slip, but a glance at it reassured him. VERDI PUBLISHING COMPANY, Blank Building, Philadelphia. Rush Middleton fifty Goodell song. Distribute remainder immediately, All well W.G. copies You remember what I told you about Miss Goodell, don't you, Miss Dale?” “Oh, perfectly, Mr. Beveridge; and Tommy is packing the music now to take to the express office. But just what do you suppose Mr. Graftleigh means by ‘dis- tribute’?” Beveridge pondered a moment. ‘How many copies have we left?”’ he asked, “Twenty. We sent thirty to the author, you remember.” ‘*Miss Dale, I shall have to ask you to go yourself to four music dealers and per- suade them to put five copies each in con- spicuous places on their shelves. Offer them any inducement. It is unusual, I know, but io “Il quite understand, Mr. Beveridge. I will attend to it at once.” A special-delivery letter came the next evening: , “March 12. ‘Dear Bassy: Hope you got wire and that copies of song are on the way. As soon as they arrive, Middleton and Betty will hustle them round to some of the smaller dealers. Betty’s red curls ought to put over a few if the kick is too strong on the lyric, Of course the music will pass. Called THE SATURDAY up Benson just now, and the oid bird hasn’t been to see him yet, but I gave him the whole tale of woe yesterday, and he says she hasn’t a leg to stand on if we prove we've made an honest effort to sell the thing. She seems to be so hot on the trail, however, that perhaps you'd better have a hundred more copies struck off, and when she tackles you, hand her a good one about the first edition being exhausted and the second on the press. You might be able to work off the whole second hundred on her for the dealers in her own home hamlet. Show her a sale record of a dozen or so, and offer her half a dollar in royalties if she doesn’t want to wait until September for a settlement “Three new contracts came in this morn- ing with money orders. I inclose lyrics. It looks like a ten-strike for us, Bassy, if we don’t make any slips. Yours truly is no highbrow, but he’s surely all there with the form letters. Might be a good idea to start Betty and Miss Dale distributing some of the stuff we have on file. Comb it over anyway, and shoot on fifty copies of every- thing that’s at all possible. Try to place the other twenty in Philadelphia. As I recall our publications no dealer is likely to accept them through the mails even on a 99 per cent commission basis, but the girls are good-looking enough to get away with some of them. Betty is strong on pathos too, “That’s about all, Bassy. Push your melodies along. Give them either zip or Don’t be too classy, and don’t BILL.” molasses. worry. Will keep you advised. Beveridge replied at once: “Dear Bill: Your idea of trying to coax the dealers to take some of the least hope- less of our songs had already occurred to Miss Dale apropos of the Goodell incident, and she has been at work on the proposition all day. She succeeded in distributing half a dozen of them among five small shops on a fifty-fifty basis. One man even promised to push the sale of the Coodell gem with some sort of asob story. As in each instance the arrangement was made as a personal favor to Miss Dale the outlook for actual business is not encouraging. Our position may be, as you say, slightly improved tech- nically. Hope you have been able to do as well in Manhattan. “I inclose ten melodies and lyries which inspired them. Will send the remaining four to-morrow if I can dope them out. Am taking your advice about old favorites, and have impressed Moody and Sankey into the service. Dick.” In the correspondence between the Mer- riweather Music Company and the Verdi Publishing Company during the next three weeks there was no further mention of the lady from Housatonic nor was any other complaint on the part of a client recorded. Forty money orders had been received with no string attached but a lyric. Graftleigh was jubilant and Beveridge was so busy concocting melodies to fit the various types of meter submitted to him that he had scarcely time to eat or sleep. Immediately after reading his mail on the first Monday in April, however, Beveridge told Miss Dale that he was obliged to goto New York, and might not return until Wednesday. “I trust there’s nothing wrong,” ob- served that astute young woman, noting his frown. “Oh, no; just a matter of consultation. If you have copied that music I gave you the other day I'll take it with me. And, Miss Dale, be careful not to give any in- formation whatever regarding our methods of business, except that we take no fees from authors and that we accept no lyrics for publication without musical accom- paniment. See that Tommy doesn’t talk at all.” As soon as he was on the train Beveridge took a bulky letter frorn his pocket, and his frown deepened as he read: “April 5. **Come as soon as you get this, Bassy, and gag Miss Dale and Tommy before you start. Things have looked a bit queer to me for the past ten days, but I didn’t want to halt your muse, so keep mum. “In the first place, our hearing nothing from old Abby has seemed a bit thick to me. She’s not the sort to let go quite so easily, and I’ve had a hunch all along that she’s got something up her sleeve. Benson laughs at the idea, but he hasn’t seen her. “Secondly, Middleton has been pestered to death by all sorts of freaks, male and female, old and young, wanting to know EVENING POST the full story of our lives, what we eat for breakfast and how much we pay the office boy. She has managed to keep most of them out of my way, but three or four of them have slipped past her, and I’ve had a tough time getting rid of them. What wor- ries me most is that none of them seem to be actual clients. Some pretend to be in- quiring on behalf of a friend and others are thinking about sending us lyrics later on. One or two look like correspondence- school detectives. “But the one that really gets me is the Beautiful Girl. ‘*Bassy, she has been camping on our doorstep for a week. After three séances with Middy and two with me, she brought in that horror I sent you about pansies and broken hearts. Since then she’s been here twice a day to find out whether we've re- ceived the music for it. “*T hope you’ve doped out something and that you'll bring it with you. She’s crazy to see you. Says she’s writing another about red roses and somebody's grave and wants to read it to you herself. I told her you'd be here Monday sure. In heaven’s name, take the first train! “8 0&6, BILL.” It would have been obvious to the most careless observer that the president of the Merriweather Music Company was troubled. There were dark circles under his eyes, his lips twitched nervously and he started violently at the sound of a tele- phone bell. Beveridge tried in vain to convince him that his state of mind was probably due to indigestion. “You're dead right, Bassy,” he said de- spondently. “We're a lot farther within the law than we were the last time you were over. Betty told me this morning that two or three little places on Sixth Avenue have actually sold some of our songs. In fact there is about sixty cents in royalties due to one client, and twenty-seven to another, and if I remember Miss Dale’s last report correctly Philadelphia has fallen for seven- teen copies of I Always Knew My Boy Was Not a Coward. Benson says that so far as the courts are concerned we’re almost pil- lars of the publishing world. But all the same, Bassy, when I listen to that Russell girl talk about putting her younger sister through college and realize that she’s dropped forty dollars of her good money in our till, and plans to separate herself from another forty dollars, I feel like the forty thieves rolled into one.” “Well, I’m ready to quit if you are.” “That’s not quite so easy as it sounds, with about fifty songs in the process of publishing, and the money paid in. We can't go back on our contract, you know. Besides, it’s a peach of a game if we can only keep personalities out of it. By the way, I dashed off a few lines myself the other day. It’s not highbrow, of course, but it has a sort of swing. Listen, and see if you think you could fix up a tune for it: Be a little kinder to me, honey, My heart is all aflame with love of you. Your golden curls have surely set me crazy, I’m mad about your eyes of sapphire blue. CHORUS Don't run away and leave me all alone, Don't ring off when I get you on the phone. You know that I adore you. Don’t tell me that I bore you. You can write your name on everything I own. Honey, there's a limousine a-waiting, Upholstered in a spiffy shade of gray, That will make a swell background for your complexion. Oh, hurry up and name the happy day. “Well, what do you think of it?” “I think this Miss Russell’s first name must be Lillian. I'll do my best with a melody after I’ve seen her, but it wasn’t sportsmanlike for you to run in a cWorus. Makes twice as much work for me.” “But they go so much better with cho- ruses. All of the hits have ——” “Hits? Say, look here, Bill, you’re not taking yourself seriously, are you? If you are, all I want to say is that as a poet you are a great writer of form letters. Don’t weaken!” The door opened to admit Miss Rey- nolds. ‘‘Miss Russell to see Mr. Bev- eridge,” she announced stiffly. “Speaking of angels,” muttered Graft- leigh sheepishly. ‘See here, Bassy, don’t pull any of your sarcasm on her. She’s a perfect lady, even if her lyrics don’t just appeal to you. Why in thunder didn’t she November 29, 1/9/19 go in the movies or the beautiful cloak- model profession? She’d ring the bell in either, but she can’t write.”’ It was quite true that Miss Russell couldn’t write. It was also true that the Evening Record cheerfully paid her a salary that enabled her to live comfortably and dress almost fashionably even at post- war prices. Nature in withholding a facile pen had been otherwise generous. In the first place, golden-brown hair, sapphire- blue eyes, pink cheeks, slightly retrouss* nose and a confiding smile formed that miraculous blend which brings to the sur- face the protective instinct latent in every male. In the second place, she was not cursed with the superfluous sense of humor which has been the handicap of so many promis- ing careers. It did not seem to her in the least mirth-provoking that the president of the Bronx Theater Club should express for publication her views as to the proper pun ishment for the Kaiser, nor that a two- column cut of the pretty secretary of the Housekeepers’ League should adorn the front page of the Record just above a state- ment of that lady’s theories regarding the League of Nations. In the third place, she possessed the sort of dramatic instinct which, plus the missing ability to juggle phrases, would have made her a second Laura Jean Libbey. This, combined with a heaven-sent naiveté in asking leading questions, not infrequently drew from interviewers most unexpected and valuable revelations. In the fourth place, though she didn’t have Anne Archer’s peculiar knack of ex- panding a “‘ Yes, I believe in capital punish- ment,” or a ‘No, I am decidely opposed to it,” into a column and a half of brilliant exposition which a leading clubwoman would read with complacency under appro- priate headlines as the product of her own brain, she seldom took notes, and had never during her six months’ connection with the Record been accused of misquoting anyone. The city editor called her Minnie, but his manner in so doing, though he was well under thirty-five, was distinctly fatherly. It may be added that his feelings toward her were of the same character. The sport- ing editor had once taken her to dinner with his wife and daughters, and had chosen the main dining room of a quiet and exclusive hotel, much to the disgust of his family, who preferred the Broadway cabarets. During her first month Miss Archer, in response to a request from the city editor to show the kid the ropes, invited her to accompany her on many of her own assign- ments. “But I really can’t do it any more, Mr. Edwards,” she said at length. ‘‘At the Bolshevist Ball at Dempster Hall the other night they cut out three thrilling dances I went specially to see, just because I was idiot enough to introduce her to the chair- man of the floor committee; and yesterday morning the most advanced feminist at that conference of radicals cast one glance at Minnie at the press table and proceeded to make a speech that would have been mild fora Y. W. C. A. secretary. Let some of the men play nursery governess for a while.” The dramatic editor dubbed Miss Rus- sell ‘‘ Edwards’ Folly,” and the name clung until one afternoon in March, when she rushed into the city room with hat awry, disheveled hair, red eyes and tear-stained cheeks, and went straight to the desk with- out waiting for the star reporter to finish his report on the big assignment of the day. “She admitted she did it, Mr. Edwards!” gasped Minnie tremulously. ‘‘She told me all about it! It was her first offense and she did it for her child.” The city editor waved away the star re- porter. * Do you mean she confessed?” he demanded. The girl nodded. ‘‘She was driven to it,” she began. ‘“‘Don’t you think you could — -” “Ask Miss Archer to come here,” inter- rupted the city editor, turning to an office boy, ‘‘and see if Mr. Sims is in the art de- partment. Now then, Minnie, go on. If you really have the goods on Ethel Ardine we may get out an extra. Anyway I’ll put it up to Mr. Greaves.” Ethel Ardine was a spectacular young woman of mysterious antecedents, vaguely suspected of being a German spy and defi- nitely accused of blackmailing a prominent millionaire. The jury had disagreed on her Continued on Page 107)

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST To Owners of AC-Equipped Cars Is your engine running as smoothly or as powerfully as you have the right to expect? If not, ask yourself whether you have played fair with the manufacturer of the car you drive. Do you always insist that your dealer give you AC Spark Plugs when you ask for them—or do you permit him to sell you something **yust as good ad The manufacturer of your car chose AC Spark Plugs as standard equipment because he found AC Spark Plugs best suited to the needs of his product. If your car is listed below you will know that its maker has selected AC Spark Plugs as standard equipment. The manufacturer knows how important the proper spark plug is in the successful functioning of his engine. Profit by his experience; follow his judgment; always demand and get AC Spark Plugs. No matter what car you-drive you can secure an AC Spark Plug that has been specially designed for it. For there are various types of AC Spark Plugs designed for every make and style of engine. Champion [gnition Company, FLINT, Michigan Acason Trucks Braddon Commonwealth Federal Trucks Hudson ce Trucks Brigas & Stratton Conestoga Trucks Frontmobile Hupmobile eme Trucks Motor Wheel Continental Motors F-W-D Trucks Hurlburt Trucks Advance-Kumely (Formerly Smith) Crane-Simplex Genco Light Independent Trucks Tractors Brockway Trucks Daniels Glide Jordan Ahrens Fox Fire Buffalo Motors Davis G. B. S. Motors Jumbo Trucks Buick Defiance Trucks G. M. C. Trucks Kalamazoo Trucks American-La France Bullock Creeping- Detco-Light Gramm-Bernstein Kent Concrete Mixers Anderson Grip Tractors Denby Trucks Trucks Keystone Trucks Apex Trucks Cadillac Canada Gray Dort KisselKar Apperson J. 1. Case T. M. Co. Diamond T Trucks Hackett Kleiber Trucks Appleton Tractors Chalmers Diehl! Trucks Hahn Trucks Kiemm Trucks Atco Trucks Chandler Dodge Brothers Hall Trucks Knox Tractors Chevrolet Dort Harvey Trucks Koehler Trucks Avery Tractors Chicago Trucks Duesenberg Motors Hatfield K-Z Trucks Kates Steel Mule Clark Tractors Eagle Tractors Haynes La Crosse Tractors ractors Cleveland Elmira Herschell-Spillman Lalley-Light k-Hawkeye Trucks Cole Essex Hispano-Suiza Liberty essomer Trucks Comet Fairmont Railway Holt Tractors Locomobile Bet: Trucks Commerce Trucks Motors Howell Tractors Maccar Trucks ‘These manufacturers use AC Spark Plugs for factory equipment and Old Reliable Trucks Minneapolis Motors {' S. Pat. N 11 Apriis 7 he Star dard Spark Plug ¢ i the World s pe B ' rin pps Motor ti ‘ et Prucks To ks nap Tr Phorobred St 1 Truck t Si { Standard » v

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST November 29, 1919 ND the floors -how they sparkle and glisten aay , we when cleaned and O- Gdar | ae polished with the pi bright, sparkling lights O-Edar Mop f Christmas are reflected , When an O-Cedar and intensified in furniture and " Polish Mop goes ih cleaned, polished and ; brig! htened and beautified as only # into a home, all edar Polish can do it. And | k ied peoplethink O-Cedar Polish § ZA ue pe nl 2 | 9 k heer-bri ift. makes a cheer-bringing gi and polishing the floors goes out. What could make a more acceptable - /} f \\ aN KX ; ft ' j Mhifs WL ] VME ' PHEUAS A AN ANI WN / LAN AG) | \ fi Ki} \\\ ih} }\ ii) NN WN A ANY \ £) eda : BN \k y )| Channel Chemical Co.. Ait ago

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| ——E Continued from Page 104) first trial and the second was now in prog- ress. The defendant had hitherto pre- served a stony silence despite the efforts of several third-degree experts of the police department and the entire metropolitan squad of feature writers to make her talk “*She explained the whole thing to me, Mr. Edwards,” continued Minnie. ‘She said I reminded her of her little sister who died i. she felt I could understand; and Sn id I never felt so sorry for anyone in The city editor patted her shoulder. “Tell it to Miss Archer,” he said, ‘and don’t leave out a word of the confession. Front-page spread, Miss Archer. The Ar- dine woman has confessed to Minnie. Let it run from two and a half to three columns. Use Minnie’s stuff in full for the lead, play up mother love as a motive for crime and work in some psychological dope founded on your own impressions of the woman dur- ing the trial. Don’t be too editorial. We'll have to run it as a news story unsigned.” The story was admitted to be the best of the year, and the star reporter himself told Minnie she was an honor to the staff. Since then she had induced a professional gun- man to reveal the whereabouts of a kid- naped child, had won the confidence of a débutante about to elope with a pseudo- Italian count in time for the Record to ex- pose the impostor and restore the romantic maiden to her irate parents, and had ob- tained an exclusive ten-word interview with a captain of industry who had never before permitted himself to be quoted. The Evening Record as visualized by Minnie was an organ published solely for the public good, its particular objects being the education of the masses and the bring- ing to justice of all malefactors. The proper methods to be pursued in the attain- ment of these noble ideals were, so far as the city staff was concerned, any means suggested by the esoteric wisdom of Mr. Edwards. Cheerfully at her chief’s bidding would she have essayed the entrance of an in- hospitable house through a skylight or a coal hole. Gladly, had he asked it, would she have donned a blond wig and a vampire make-up in order to mingle freely with male and female gangsters in their subter- ranean lairs and discover their nefarious plots. Somewhat to her disappointment no such sacrifice was demanded of her. Miss Archer, to whom she timidly confided willingness to do anything for the paper, smiled cynically and told her that if she had formed her ideas of newspaper work from the films she’d better revise them. ‘The Record will never require you to do anything unbecoming a gentlewoman,” concluded the feature writer, ‘‘and if you really desire to succeed, Miss Russell, why don’t you learn to write a simple news story?” ‘Don't let that worry you,” said the star reporter soothingly when he heard about it. “‘Archer’s a bit catty at times. You've landed some of the biggest scoops of the season. Anyone can write. It just takes a little time to get the swing—that’s all.” ‘Really?” said Minnie reverently. Given the foregoing facts it is not to be wondered at that when Miss Abby Goodell found her way to the Record office about a fortnight after her interview with Graft- leigh and made known her grievance, the city editor, upon deciding that the Mer- riweather Music Company would bear investigation, sent for Minnie. ‘“Won’t I need a disguise if I pretend to be a client?” she asked hopefully after listening to his instructions. ‘I think not,” replied Edwards gravely. “You won’t even have to change your name, but you will need some properties in the way of spring poems. I'll supply those.”” To one who had moved Ethel Ardine to tears and made Lightning Jerry Flynn re- ~ member that he once knew a girl with that sort o’ blue eyes, Graftleigh was a simple proposition. Four days after Miss Good- ell’s visit to the Record office Edwards was in possession of copies of every one of the Merriweather Music Company’s form let- ters and of two contracts—one signed by Graftleigh as president, and by Minnie as author of a lyric entitled Pansies are for Thoughts; the other featuring Jimmy, the head office boy, as author of what Graft- leigh described as the delightfully humor- ous verses, Don’t Wiggle Your Eyes That Way. Two days later he had on file a sheaf of notes in Minnie’s round childish hand- writing, which gave him a fairly accurate THE SATURDAY conception of the man described by Miss Goodell as a despoiler of widows and or- phans. As for Beveridge, simultaneously with his first glimpse of Minnie in a box-coated blue serge suit and sailor hat which co- operated in subtracting five years from her apparent age, came a regret that he had not had time to get a haircut before leaving Philadelphia. After two minutes’ conver- sation he beheld Graftleigh and himself as confidence men of the lowest type, and Minnie as the innocent victim of their greed for tainted gold. When she rose to go he heard himself begging her to take tea with him that afternoon in some quiet place where they could go over her lyrics to- gether and consult about the accompani- ments. “And honestly, Mr. Minnie the next morning, “I’m sure Mr. Beveridge is perfectly all right. You've no idea how hard he worked revising that first song of mine that begins, ‘Pansies purple and golden lay at her throat so fair,’ and he’s going to show me the music to-morrow. And he advised me not to do anything about getting the second song published until we saw how the other one went. So you see he can’t be mixed up in any scheme to get money on false pretenses, Mr. Ed- wards, and he’s so wrapped up in his art!” ‘I see,” said the city editor. ‘Did you find out just what his connection is with the Verdi company, and the exact relation of the Verdi to the Merriweather? Try to clear up those two points this evening. I suppose it’s all right for you to dine with him. Better insist on one of the big East Side hotels, though, and be sure to get rid of him early. Send the minutes of the meeting to my house by messenger before eleven if you can. Armstrong is going over to Philadelphia in the morning.” It is, of course, ridiculous to suppose that all the details in regard to the suitable adaptation of a melody and accompani- ment to a lyric could be settled at one con- ference—or two—or three. As a matter of fact it was ten days after Beveridge’s first dinner with Minnie at the Beaumont be- fore the final draft of words and music was pronounced satisfactory by the collabo- rators. “If you’re quite sure he has left town,’ said Edwards with a quizzical glance at the girl’s flushed cheeks, ‘‘you may drop the publishing business for a day or two and start that series of interviews with society women on how they feel about taking up the old life now that the war is over. Get real heart-to-heart talks, with plenty of personality, and Miss Archer will help you to whip it into shape. Try Miss Van Huyden first.” Graftleigh had viewed his partner’s marked interest in the new client with growing disfavor and had upon one occa- sion earnestly but ineffectually voiced his opinion on the subject: “I don’t deny, Bassy, that she’s a very beautiful girl. I saw her first, you know, But that only makes her the more danger- ous. I don’t mind telling you, now that I’m cured, that I had her in mind when I wrote that little lyric of mine. But it’s always a mistake to mix sentiment with business. That’s why I picked Middy. Faithful, efficient, but not alluring—those are my specifications for female help. As for female clients, Bassy, the less one sees of them the better. Limit your communi- cations to dictation and a rubber-stamp signature. Take it from me, it’s the only safe way.” “There’s considerable safety also in minding one’s own business,”’ retorted Bev- eridge without looking up from the ruled paper on which he was setting down notes, rests and bars. Graftleigh sighed and shrugged his shoul- ders. “I’ve a hunch there’s trouble ahead, but what’s coming comes,” he muttered fatalistically. He was accordingly distressed and per- turbed but not greatly astonished when Beveridge, the morning after his delayed departure for Philadelphia, reappeared in the president’s office of the Merriweather Music Company and after carefully closing the transom announced grimly: “I was served last night with papers in a suit to re- cover damages for one thousand dollars for not properly carrying out the terms of the Verdi contract with Rachel Arkwright.” “*Any particulars?” “‘Here’s the document,” said Beveridge, tossing a folded paper on the table. Graftleigh examined it hastily. ‘‘ Yes, I see. Charges misrepresentation, failure to Edwards,” said EVENING POST advertise, failure to put on the market, fail- ure to print a reasonable number of c “opies. Who the devil is Rachel Arkwright? ‘To the best of my knowledge she is the author of some verses entitled Under the Elm by the Brook, which I set to music sometime in November and which the Verdi company published on February second. She lives in Bethlehem.” “Was hers by any chance one of the gems Miss Dale induced some amiab le dealers to put on their selling lists?” “Tt was not. “Just our all-fired rotten luck to back the wrong ones! But dry your tears, Bassy I'll tell Benson to have his Philadelphia man write to her—Hollis, I think his name is—and if she’s really peevish you can formally resign all claims to her song and send her the copies you have in the cellar I'll call up now and see if Benson can eat with us.” “Sorry, but I have an engagement. I'll see you before I go back. Anything you and Benson decide will suit me.” “Still batty over that Russell girl, eh? Something tells me she’s no mascot for the Merriweather. Well, don't let her hold you up later than three. I have a date myself. And see here, Bassy, don’t make any plans to stop in town overnight. You've got to get home and keep an eye on things.’ Beveridge lunched with Minnie at the Brevoort and arranged to run over to New York again on Sunday to show her the proofs of her song. Having been assured by Graftleigh, after the latter’s interview with Benson, that the adjustment of the Arkwright matter would be mere child's play he returned to Philadelphia in an opti- mistic mood. Three days later, however, he dictated a letter that caused the usually placid Miss Dale to frown continuously as she typed it: ** Dear Bill: I didn’t get to town Sunday as I planned. Went to Bethlehem instead, and | might better have stayed away. Hol- lis could do nothing with Miss Arkwright. She insisted on pushing the suit, even after he had offered her $100 in addition to abso lute ownership of the song. I went to hunt her up at his suggestion. He had some crazy idea that perhaps she didn't like lawyers, and might listen to reason from me. He was wrong. My arguments seemed to have about as much effect on her as a round of cartridges would have on the Rock of Gibraltar. “I didn’t offer her any more money, be- cause Hollis advised against it, though I would willingly have paid another $100 out of my own pocket to get rid of her. She's a lanky drab-colored little thing, about thirty. Says she’s a telephone operator. She boards in a little frame house on one of the poorer streets of the town, and doesn’t look as if she had $10 to her name, Her lawyer, George Mason, lives in Phila- delphia, and has a box of an office on Chest nut Street. Hollis says he’s just a kid **What do you make of it all? Could you or Benson do anything with this Mason if you came over? Hollis says there’s a nig- ger in the woodpile. ‘Yours, Be” ‘“Middy,” exclaimed Graftleigh, rushing into the outer office less than five minutes after his personal mail had been placed on his desk, ‘“‘look up the next train to Phila delphia; and, Betty, get Benson on the phone. I’m ina hurry.” Miss Middleton rose and faced her em ployer. ‘Don’t go to Philadelphia, Mr. Graftleigh,” she said. Graftleigh stared at the girl incredu- lously. She was paler than usual and her voice trembled slightly, but her eyes met his unflinchingly. ‘* Don’t you know,” she went on, ‘“‘that this whole suit’s a frame- up? Wouldn't a poor little country hello girl jump at the chance of getting a hundred dollars for a song if she wasn’t ‘eing paid not to?” ““Where’d you get all that dope and what are you driving at?’’ demanded Graftleigh angrily. ‘‘ You seem to know a hell of a lot about my private affairs.” Miss Middleton flushed. “I beg your pardon,” she said stiffly. “I considered |it my duty to give you some information I had obtained, and I intended to go to your office as soon as I had finished sorting the mail. I see now that I shouldn’t have in- terfered.”’ ‘There, there, Middy, don’t get huffy,” said Graftleigh conciliatingly ‘I'm a bit on edge this morning. What is it you’ve heard?” 107 Miss Middleton hesitated. ‘It probably won't do much good to tell you now, except that it may keep you away from Phila delphia, That Rachel Arkwright is merely a blind. The Record is paying all the ex- penses of her suit and giving her money besides, and has promised to print the song she wrote and her photograph. If you enter the state of Pennsylvania you will be subpoenaed as a witness, and they ‘will get the Merriweather too. Miss Goodell set the Record on your trail, and she would have brought suit herself if she hadn’t live: in another state. I don’t know how they found Rachel Arkwright, but her song is the only one we have published as yet for a Pennsylvania client, though we have a con tract with someone in Scranton. The Rex ord is going to feature the trial and send over one of its best men and Anne Archet so that even if Miss Arkwright loses the suit the two companies will be put out of business. My sister had the whole story from a friend of hers in Raleigh’s. Didn't you know that Raleigh was counsel for the Record? He's the trickiest lawyer in tow: and he has charge of the case. Mason i working under his direction.” “That all?” asked Graftleigh as s paused ‘About all.” “What's the rest?” “I've told you the main facts.” “What's the rest?” reiterated leigh ‘The Russell woman is a Record ri porter,”’ replied Miss Middleton in a tone that she strove to make indifferent ‘The Russell woman?” echoed Graft leigh uncomprehendingly. Then he swal lowed hard and cleared his threat ‘Thank you, Miss Middleton,” he said “You have been very-—er efficient. Will you kindly cali Mr. Beveridge at the Phila- delphia office and tell him I am ill?) Ask him to come over as Betty, ask Mr. Benson to meet me at Deene’s at twelve. I can’t see anyone this morning.” “Little rat!’ he muttered as he closed the door of his private office; “and it’s up to me to put poor Bassy wise,”” Just at that time the city editor of the Record was having his first bad quarter of an hour with the usually docile Minnie Graft soon as possible “See here, Minnie,” he said, ‘you're making a bugbear of a very simple matter I've explained that Mr. Raleigh will see you are subjected to no unpleasantne whatever. All you have to do is to tell the jury just what you've told me, and re member not to reply to any opposing counsel until our man has had a chance to register an objection if he wishes to. You can choose your own hotel and take a girl friend over with you. [T'lHO. K any reasonable expense account for the two, and I'll tell our Phil spondent to look you up. It little change for you.” ‘I'm sorry, Mr. Ex . ward question of the ace Ipt la corre will be a nice re plied the girl with the baffling obstinacy of the superficially meek, ‘but I cannot be a wit ness. I know those lawyers are trying to hurt Mr. Beveridge in some way and | know he wouldn't do anything wrong for the world.” “Tf he is innocent the truth won't hurt him. All I’ve asked you to do is to tell the truth.” Minnie shook her head I've never been to a trial myself, but I’ve heard that Mr. Raleigh can make witnesses say any thing he wants them to and can make blac look like white.” ‘That’s just = you're trying to do Minnie -make black look like white. Tt fellow Beveridge is one of the principals in a scheme to defraud innocent persons of their money. Some poor girls actually go in debt to get the forty dollars to send to this fake music company, just as Rachel Arkwright did; and they have as mucl chance of getting it back as I have of ow: ing the Record.” ‘If their lyrics become successes they will get their money back all right It isn’t Mr. Beveridge’s fault if they are not wood.” Rubbish!” snapped Edwards. ‘I'm amazed at you, Minnie. Why, on a four cent royalty basis they’d have to sell a thousand copies of one of those cover the author’s fee, and it takes a pretty fair song with some pushing to go as weil as that. Now this Verdi company pub- lishes any old thing it’s paid for and limits its editions to a hundred copies, part of vhich it sends to the author, and buries the songs to rest.” (Conctuded on Page 111

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1OS THE SATURDAY EVENING POST The force behind the symbol ELIEF in the future of the truck as an efficient, economical mode of transportation has long been dominant in the Firestone program To instill this belief in the public mind and broaden it in industrial and com mercial circles, Firestone inaugurated the “Ship by Truck’’ movement and contributed the above symbol. The idea expressed in this emblem, “Ship by Truck,”’ has met with quick acceptance. It symbolizes the vision and business faith of all motor truck interests. It is a direct notice to all shippers that the truck industry has taken its right place as a big element in transportation. Guided along sound business lines and placed on a substantial, practical footing, motor truck express lines are now estab lished and operating successfully as allies of the railroads. Without the motor truck today, the deliv- ery systems of our big cities would break down completely. And in the modern in- dustrial field the motor truck is as essential to production asthe plant machinery itself. November 29,1919 “Ship by Truck”’ is the slogan that has common significance for all these in- terests and for the public at large. The force behind the symbol is an awakening appreciation in all quarters of the truck’s value in solving the nation’s problems of distribution. The Firestone Ship by Truck Bureaus, with headquarters at Akron, are in opera- tion in the principal cities, to serve all interests as a clearing house of infor- mation and promotion.

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and imeerin THE SATURDAY EVENING POST Americas Truck Tonnage Providing the right truck tire and rim equip ment for every roadeand load has been a Firestone responsibility since the first truck was built. Good roads have been slow to come—but trucking has gone forward regardless. Firestone, keeping pace with the trucking industry, has solved problem after prob- lem, until trucks are hauling a large propor tion of America’s tonnage and are strong allies of the railroads in inter-city traffic. Firestone engineers designed the first truck tire, and from that day to this the history of truck tire progress is Firestone history. As the truck builders advanced they found Firestone ready, not only with the right tire but the right rim. ~~“. ~S™ %, There is a Firestone Tir Firestone introduced the channel type of tire, the removable type, the cup cushion type, the giant type, the grooved tread type. Firestone was first to build a complete line of truck tires—a type suited to every road, load and condition of service. Firestone was first to establish adequate truck tire service dealers everywhere; overt 700 now serving every trucking center in America. Firestone was first with the demountable rim, that made giant cords practical and efficient. And Firestone is the only manu facturer that makes the tire and the rim complete. Firestone engineers were ready, ‘oo, for the problem of quick changes for the giant pneumatic tire Here they went beyond the tire and rim and designed a feature of wheel construc tion for truck makers, also a spare tire carrier device that makes one man able to change tires easily regardless of weight. These examples of Firestone Engineering are vital factors in the success of the ‘Ship by Truck”? movement And Firestone Ship by Truck Bureaus in large trucking centers are giving daily aid to truck operators of all classes and to shippers. Today over half the truck tonnage of America is carried on Firestone Tires This is the reward of sound engineering tires, tubes and rims of commercial pet fection; service that is intelligent, adequate and on the spot 109 ne g

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110 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST November 29, 1919 his Name is Your Surest Guarantee of All Round Year Round Starting Battery Rightness You wouldn't buy~ a house just because it had a strong front door—you wouldn’t buy* an automobile just because it had extra-heavy~ wheels. What you want is inch by inch, detail by detail, Quality. ¢And that is exactly what you get in the “Exide” Starting and Lighting Battery. No one part of it has been developed at the expense of any other part. Its handles are just as right as its separators, its straps and connectors just as well made as its plates. It is a complete starting and lighting battery, as technically and practi- cally correct as thirty-one years’ experience in the manufacture of storage batteries for all purposes can make it. “Exid¢” Service is nation wide and as thorough in principle and practice as the “Exide” Battery. It meets the needs of any make of starting and lighting battery. The address of the station nearest you will be sent on request. THE ELECTRIC STORAGE BATTERY CO. The largest manufacturer of storage batteries in the world 1888 PHILADELPHIA, PA. 1919 New York Boston Chicago Washington Denver San Francisco St. Louis Minneapolis Cleveland Atlanta Kansas City Pittsburgh Detroit Rochester Special Canadian Representative, Chas. E. Goad Engineering Co., Toronto and Montreal LOOK FOR “Sxide, “WycapeBxide’’, “ProncladeBxide’’, “ThineBxide'™’, “Chloride Mccumulator’’. ‘* Tudor Hccumulator”’ THIS SIGN Batteries are made by this Company for every storage battery purpose THE ELECTRIC STORAGE BATTERY CO. ~

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———— (Concluded from Page 107) “But the Verdi company doesn’t accept any money from authors,” persisted Minnie. “*I stand corrected, Miss Counsel for the Defense. The Merriweather company per- forms that agreeable little task. But that’s a mere detail, as you know. The point is, do you still refuse to assist the Record in exposing these swindlers? Minnie’s eyes filled with tears. ““T would do anything for the Record exce pt betray a friend.” Edwards sighed. “‘That would make an excellent caption in Episode Nine of The Adventures of a Girl Reporter, Minnie; and your pose isn’t bad either. We’ll have to make it a close-up though. I can’t give you any more time this morning. Take a day off and think things over. Remember the Record is helping Miss Arkwright solely for the good of the community. Come in and see me late this afternoon—about half past five.”’ “Telephone, Miss Russell. Long dis- tance,’’ murmured Jimmy, intercepting her hasty progress toward the door. ‘‘ Don’t mind him,” he added sympathetically. ‘He’s just got a grouch on.” Poor Minnie’s distress was increased rather than diminished when she recog- nized Beveridge’s voice on the wire. She felt that seeing him would only add to the complexities of a situation already hope- lessly beyond her control. Her decision that it was best to end all was not proof, however, against his announcement that ie had some wonderful news for her. ‘Daw & Flanger have accepted my opera, The Maid of To-morrow. They’ve had it about six months. I’m to see them this afternoon. Can’t you meet me at Eugene’s for luncheon at two o’clock? I’ve something else to tell you too. Mr. Graft- leigh’s ill, and I have to see him first or I'd ask you to make it earlier.” ‘I’m afraid ” began Minnie tremu- lously. But she was not permitted to finish. ‘Afraid of what? Don’t say you can’t come, Minnie. You must come. I’ll expect you at two sharp. Good-by.’ Even if one has been pushed by circum- stances into a position where it is impos- sible to determine which of two divergent paths would be labeled duty by an ethical expert, and if, therefore, one is inevitably doomed to be misunderstood by at least one of the very persons for whom she is willing to make the most heroic sacrifices, there is no special virtue in spending an April afternoon cooped up in a boarding- house bedroom. Besides, it really wasn’t fair to Di—er— Mr. Beveridge, to repay all his kindness by refusing him an interview which he so earnestly desired and from which one might glean facts that would establish his innocence even in the skeptical eyes of the city editor. Minnie accordingly spent twice the usual time arranging her hair, donned her most elaborate blouse, purchased a bunch of sweet peas to brighten her dark-blue coat and arrived at Eugene’s five minutes be- fore two. Beveridge was sitting at her favorite table. He rose and bowed for- mally. ‘Well, I’ve lost my bet,’’ he said sar- castically. ‘‘Mr. Graftleigh was sure you would come. In fact he staked $10 on it. He is a better judge of women than I am, Won't you be seated?” The pink in Minnie’s cheeks deepened to crimson. “I don’t understand,” she fal- tered. Beveridge laughed cynically. ‘‘Isn’t that ingénue role becoming a trifle wearisome?” he inquired. ‘“‘At any rate, suppose you drop it for a while. I’ve ordered grapefruit and broiled chicken, and I may as well clear the atmosphere by telling you that }’ve just seen Mr. Graftleigh, and that I know all the details ofithe frame-up from start to 1HE SATURDAY finish. I came here only because I hope you will satisfy my curiosity on one or two points. Does the Record pay you real money for converting yourself into a com- bination of ferret and vampire or was it simply that I appealed to your sense of humor? There is a certain amount of mournful satisfaction to be derived from being called a vampire by a handsome young man. But the phrase ‘‘sense of humor” was uttered in a tone that would have indicated to the most casual listener the speaker’s absolute contempt for the quality in question. It was obvious that Beveridge was deliber- ately insulting a poor girl who was facing the loss of her job because she was unwill- ing to testify against him. Martyrdom in such a cause was not only painful but inglorious. Having explained her point of view in half a dozen passionate and unpunctuated sentences Minnie swept haughtily through the restaurant and out onto the avenue, leaving her accuser a prey to various conflicting emotions, each of which in turn assumed temporary ascend- ancy over the others. The ultimate control went to a red and righteous rage against the unscrupulous city editor who had perverted the flower- like charms of a sweet and innocent child to the re uses of the worthless sheet which enslaved him. Suppose he could put both the Verdi company and the Merri- weather out of business, and their presi- dents in jail! Were his power multiplied a thousandfold it should not stand in the way of his hearing a gentleman’s opinion of his conduct! Beveridge accordingly took the most speedy route to the Record office. ‘I'll get to him if I have to fight his whole staff first,” he muttered dramatically as a mild- looking old man in livery disappeared down a long corridor with his card. Edwards, however, was more than will- ing to see the defendant in the Arkwright suit. “*“Come to ery ‘Kamerad,’”’ he chuckled. ‘I suppose Minnie put him on, but I don’t believe the kid meant to, at that.” The interview that followed abounded in mutual disillusionments. To Beveridge’s amazement Ex lw: irds did not look like a combination of sleuth and brigand, did not chew a cigar, bellow at re- porters or strew the floor with pages of re jected copy. The top of his desk wa almost bare, his manner impersonal, his smile distinctly boyish. The young mer seated at typewriters might from their ap pearance have been a haphazard collectior of college seniors, bank clerks and traveling salesmen, glorified by the splendid pres- ence of a young duke. The last mentioned hanced to be the youngest cub, who re- ceived a salary of twenty dollars a week and belonged to three of the most exclusive clubs in town. Anne Archer was out, so the newspaper atmosphere was furnished entirely by Jimmy, who had the mouth of a cherub, the eyes of a sage, the pallor of a cigarette fiend, and the accent, tousled hair and grimy hands of a street urchin. One glance at Beveridge compelled Ed wards to admit to himself that the presi dent of the Verdi company was neither a typical confidence man nor a_ pseudo Greenwich Villager. Of his supposed de sire to conciliate the representative of the all-powerful Record there was not the slightest evidence. Talks like someone who's had his name spelled wrong,” he reflected before he grasped the full significance of the situation. Then he scowled. It was to be expected, of course, that sentimental complic ations would rise sometime in connection with an assignment of Minnie’s, but it was pecul iarly unfortunate that they should be in- volved in this case. EVENING POST “Tt is our policy to expose fraud and to protect its victims whenever we find it possible,”’ hesaid curtly as Beveridge paused for breath at the end of a scathing arraign ment of the methods of yellow journalism. ‘As for Miss Russell’s connection with our investigations, there has never been a mo- ment when she was not under our direct protection.” ‘Protection!’”” thundered Beveridge “*Do you call it protection to turn a sweet innocent girl into a spy? To compel her to betray the confidence of her friends? To induce her to trifle with the most sa- cred —’"’ Edwards held up his hand. “If you care to talk for publication,” he said quietly, ‘‘I will assign a reporter to take the interview. We might be able to use it. If this is merely bluster, however, you are wasting my time and your own. I have no objection to tell- ing you that Miss Arkwright has consulted us regarding her claims against the Verdi Publishing Company, and that we have ad vised her to push the case.” ‘I’m all kinds of a fool,” snapped Bev eridge, ‘‘but I have sense enough to know that Miss Arkwright is merely another one of your tools. I don’t know what your game is and I don’t care. You're out to crush me and you're likely to succeed. I haven't the money to fight you. Do your worst and be The sentence was never finished, be cause what he intended to say simply isn't said in the presence of a lady, and at this particular moment Minnie appeared upon the scene. She wore an expression of righteous indignation and carried a small traveling bag. Advancing haughtily to the city desk she placed a letter upon it and without a glance at either of the two men hurried to her own desk and began stuffing books and papers into the bag. Edwards glanced at the contents of the letter, and the lines about his mouth re laxed. ‘‘Wait just a moment, Mr. Bey eridge,” he said. “It may be possible to make some adjustment of this m itter Suppose you telephone to Mr. and ask him to come over.” ‘I should like to see that letter first replied Beveridge grimly “Well, I can’t show you the letter, but I Graftleigh gather Miss Russell thin he has di covered some new evidence which m ght place your ni in a less unfavorable light. Miss Russell is, I fear, Ponce be rably distressed.” Jeveridge flushed. ‘‘I am obliged to leave at once,”” he said, ‘‘to keep an im portant appointment uptown, but I will communicate with Mr. Graftleigh, and if he consents to come here I will come with him.” Edwards r 1odded ; “Better make the ap pointment for eo’ ind perhaps you will be pane yet dye » tell Mi ; Ru ell on your way out that I would like to see her at half past five.”’ ‘Minnie,” stammered Beveridge, ‘I know I’m a cad and a brute, but there’ something I must say to you. I will wait for you downstair You will come, won't you? Don’t bother about the desk.” . ‘Very well,” assented Minnie with cold dignity. **Perhaps I'm what the highbrows call a moral imbecile,” said Graftleigh some two hours later, it | must confess I don't get your point of view, Mr. Edwards. You talk as if the Merriwe: ither Music Com pany and the Verdi were some sort of menace to society. Now I think we're pub lic benefactors. Don’t we inspire hundreds of people to develop literary talent they never dreamed they possessed? Don't we give them the satisfaction of seeing their poems published with a fine musical set ting? Don't they get a u the chance to make fame and 1 if the stuff is any good?”’ 111 Edwards raised his eyebrows. “I thought we had been over the ground pretty thor oughly, Mr. Graftleigh, but if it isn’t clear to you yet that your game is up I will re peat that it can be proved you didn’t ever make a bluff at putting any of your publi cations on sale until a little over a month ago, when one of your clients threatened you with arrest, and that no attempt ha ever been made to distribute them through the regular channels. “But,” protested Graftleigh, “you didn't give us —_ We're a new firm, aad natu rally the big authors didn't send us ever their pot boilers the minute we hung out our sign. We were going to do all the usua stunts of advertising and so forth as soor as we got hold of a song that would justify ——” ‘Not good enough, Mr. Graftleigh. If those songs possessed any merit you have been obviously dishonest in not adver tising them and placing them on the mar ket. If they are worthless, as undoubtedly ninety-nine per cent of them are, you have been equally dishonest in inducing the authors to pay forty dollars each for their publication. As for the musical! settings they probably would furnish some interest ing side lights in court “But I don’t care to split hairs over moral issues, The matter stands this way If you will return to clients whose vers¢ you are now holding pending publication their manuscripts and whatever fees they have paid in, and make over to the author of the songs you have published the full rights to words and music, and wind up th affairs of the two companies as speedily a possible under the supervision of a publik accountant, I will advise Miss Arkwright to settle her claims against you for one hun dred dollars plus the return of her fee and rights to the words and music of her song If these terms are satisfact you might a well go right over to Raleigh’s offices and sign the necessary papers. It goes against my conscience to make things so easy for you, for schemers like you should be ex posed for the protection of the public. I’m tretching a point, however, for the sake of Mr. Beveridge, who, I understand, hop von to arrive on Broadway. It would he a pity to have a promising musical career ruined by one false step. I must wart you, though, that should either of vou ever again be involved in a scheme of a similar nature the Record will show no mercy.” “*Il appreciate your consideration,” ga Beveridge stiffly. Graftleigh rose. ‘“‘Well, sir, I surrender I'm licked Don't imagine the lawsuit w ries me, wright from tl of what you b artist would do to the Merriweather. Come Bassy, let’s go over and sign.”’ ‘Perhaps it’s just as well,” he said ec dentially a the partners crossed City Ha Park arm in arm “We were getting darn successful that other busybodies would be bound to consider it their duty to vestigate our methods, and you wouldn't have time for your end of the business ar way. As for me I can live comfortab!} for a while on the job you've landed for m in the Daw & Flanger Press Bureau he re ally going to be married asked Miss Archer the next morning whe the city editor told her to go on with th eries of interviews with promir et women previously assigned to Minnis Edwards nodded. “ Fairly decent chap just sold an opera to Daw & Flange But I’m sorry to lose her.”’ Miss Archer smiled cryptically. ‘It m be all for the best. though,” ‘ tid thoughtfully. ‘“‘She seemed a nice enougt girl, but she c: write,” ‘Write!” echoed the star reporter T fully. “‘Anyone in writs But Mir ‘ } Minnie was almost a irnalist.”’

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST November 29, 1919 The blindfolded jury hears Hempel sing‘‘Io nonsonopiu— |" +! l'Annetta,’’ while she stands beside the New Edison. HE BLINDFOLD TEST is the most severe of all musical tests; shutting off a person’s sight greatly increases his acuteness of hearing. Yet even the blind fold test has been successfully met by the New Edison. Frieda Hempel, prima donna soprano of the Metropolitan Opera Company, New York, appeared before five of Thomas A. Edison's ay Pr musical experts to perform the test. She stood beside the New Edison. The ere” Yea Vy a4 blindfolds were adjusted over the eyes of the five men. As shown in the first photograph," Nf vey Hempel then started to sing. The selection was “Io non sono piu ’Annetta” from the opera ae 1 \ “Crispino e la Comare.” Suddenly Hempel stopped singing, but the song continued. The New Edison had taken up the song and was singing alone. The five experts, even though their hearing faculties were at highest concentration, were completely unaware that Hempel had ceased and that they were listening only to the New Edison’s Re-Creation of her voice. Two million people have heard similar tone-tests, publicly given by forty different artists. Five hundred representative newspapers have publicly recorded the fact that no one has been able to distinguish the artist’s living art from its Re-Creation by the New Edison. The proof of this is founded upon scientific fact; it is piled mountain-high. The New Edison brings you all the living artist can bring, excepting his physical presence. \iAe@ a "1 ‘é oo The Phonograph I erg BY hea’ jen S) - EE aces —-~- *

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST 113 cerry a Thirty seconds later! Hempel has ceased. The ‘VY blindfolded jury is not aware that the New Edison is singing ‘‘Io non sono piu Il’Annetta’’ alone. RIEDA HEMPEL is called “Hempel of the Voice Supreme.” You might think this is because of her technique —so flawless, so superb! Or because of her notes, pure as the chiming of silver bells = ———_ —— But Hempel is infinitely more than a vocalist. Hear ; WP ae >“ ; Gey AD, her sing some song she loves, and suddenly you understand Rie A ll i what it is that makes her great among the greatest in opera and concert. \¢ “a For you fall under the spell of a mysterious, lifting power—a power Lj . . 5 which transmutes every note into gold and every bar into angel-music. y It is Hempel’s sublime artist-soul. Soul is that electric something, that transcendent I something, that eternal something, which makes music the mind's solace and inspiration. l The soul of music is what Edison has caught and perpetuated in his ReCreations. That is why he considers the New Edison the greatest of his inventions. That is why the heart of the music-lover responds to a Re-Creation by the New Edison, even as it responds to the art of the living artist. Go hear the New Edison. Hear it with your eyes closed, for that is the best way to listen to music. You will feel that the artist himself 1s standing before you—alive! Write to Thomas A. Edison, Inc., Orange, N. J., for the most interesting phonograph story of the year, “Edison and Music.” EDISON with a Soul” i 2G ae

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114 iriat nd prods from the chute leading » the corra Near by a cow-puncher, his it slanted over one eye, careened awk weight of a saddle half is big as himself. The operation of sad dling up an outlaw in the bucking-horse t for the championship of the world wardly beneath the contes was on, and Cal watched it eagerly. “That's ole Tar Baby,”’ he confided a he rubbed a sleeve of that rainbow shirt y I P ‘He ain’t ever been rid.” In fact, Tar Baby looked it. Legs wide pread, ears back, lip pulled bac k from the } th, Tar Baby gave excellent evi er had been ridden and lustered about him a who wirled their lariats lazi t intend to be. ¢ vaiting the inevitable break. It came while I Baby caved the chest of a wrangler e two ribs for another and started traight for the ten thousand or so persons packed in the grand stand The rope wheezed through the air, cow ponies sat o eir haunches and Tar Baby came bacl and the saddle again taut they held him, bridled nub, put the saddle on his juivering back and cinched it tight A in white chaps climbed into the saddle, hung more doggedly to the gunny sack m with a rope while the wrangle rs than ever to Tar Baby’s ears and the gunny ack whi hs till obscured the beast’s sight. Cal MeMillan, of the kaleidoscopic shirt, ocked hi eee That Lee Cunnin’ham! Good boy! Beat me out in the finals last month at Ross Creek, but I'm for him! Swing-g-g-g 1 in Lee ! A seampering of horses, wranglers and chaps with cowboys in them. A tawny figure that stood shaking as Lee Cunning- ham hat descended harply on his flank. rhen a pitch, a twisting leap and the fight was on. Cal's spurs flashed in the sun, ‘Ride ‘im, cowboy! Ride ‘im!” he vared “Hook him—that’s the boy ing-g-g to'im, cowboy! Oh, Gawd!” Already he was running across the wide field. One great nd Tar Baby had fallen backward with Cunningham be- neath Out came the ambulance. reeling toss a The rider was inconscious Tar Baby, lariated again, was on his feet and fighting his best against the ipproach of the wrangler Into the rowd shot Cal MeMilla Gimmethathoss!" heshouted. “Gimme that ho \ judge, his forty-five hanygi: vy loose from his hand, clattered ip You ain't in this contest! I know | ain't! But that hoss throwed Lee Cunnin’ham! What of it?’ Cal seratched his head f you put it that way But I'd shore like to ride hin , Shucks! lake him ' then Cal MeMillan grinned ike a kid plaving hool Ter econds later he wa houncing or lar Balt bach while the outlaw bucked and tore about the yreat inclosure, lammed } way into a crowd of hor emer who could not ‘ pe tire infished reared, bucked pitched eaped jumped broke through the heavy planked fence, ran a hundred yard then stopped, coughing and weating ibdued at | t Cal, one leg painfully ir ured in the smash up at the fence ppt 1 to the ground grinned waved arms toward the gr tand and ran, lir ping, I the hospital tent. ¢ ham had just regained « ciousness and Cal beame down at him I rid him, Lee! ‘Good medicine!” ¢ ningham raised far e from the cot to jab forth a hand. “That's shore good hootin'’!” An hour later both of them revived, refreshed ind bandaged, both fool ishly happy and grinning were entere t not he THE SATURDAY EVENING POST RIDE IM, COWBOY! Continued fron. Page 15 ie a ‘ contest. I've Milt Hinkle, seen a hun- and ina dred Cals calm mo- and a hun ment he dred Cun confided ninghams that he just since then; couldn’t they're all stay away. the same, “They playing the wouldn’t let parts of me outen apostles to the hos- something pital—I got they don't my hip know i busted, you dead. Which know’’— brings up all this ina the tale of Ww hisper Milt Hinkle “But I fixed I saw him ‘em. They first in Bo had me on vina, Texas, the second in 1916, a floor, so I crumpled tied two thing of blankets to- broken glo gether and throwed my crutchesout the window. I couldn't ries and dust-strewr colors a they lugge d A “Breakaway” Above — One of the Reasons for Ambulance Runs. The Horse Has Thrown its Rider and is Trying to Kick Him to by an Outlaw him off the Death. But He Won't hardly stay field to a away -—— not hospital. Three months later—it wa with that bad luck at Bovina hangin’ over Cheyenne again—a howling, squawking me. I'm entered in the bulldoggin’!”’ maniac hobbled round the entrants’ stand “The what?” on crutehe roaring his approval of each The bulldoggin’! event and momentarily attempting to Milt said it as innocently as though and without his supports. In vain. It wa he were about to play pinochle for the > we ti November 29, 1919 championship of the Bronx. Slowly he straightened his crippled leg and attempted to stand without his crutches, but in vain. Then he grinned. “T’ll use these hosses until I climb into the saddle. Then I won’t hurt none.” Far away a shot sounded —the call to the bulldoggers. Milt hobbled away, still grinning. A man with a broken hip, escaped from a hospital, he was going to this: From a wooden chute a long-horned steer is shunted by yelping, screeching cow-punchers. Pur- suing him on one side is the bulldogger, while on the other is a second cowboy rac- ing his pony to the limit of its speed, his lariat in readiness to check the frightened, maddened beast in case it decides to veer off the track into the grand stand. Faster and faster the pace becomes, until at last—the maximum reached—the attend- ant cowboy shies his pony to one side and the bulldogger leaps from his saddle, soars four or five feet through the air, grasps the steer by its horns, and by his catapulting speed and weight endeavors to throw the animal to the ground with such force that it cannot rise. What becomes of the bulldog- ger doesn’t seem to enter much into the calculations. Sometimes the steer gets up while the bulldogger doesn’t. And it was into this sort of thing that Milt Hinkle, with an unknitted hip, was hobbling on his new yellow crutches The man with the megaphone did not esteem the act of sufficient interest to announce anything more than the simple fact. “Nex’ vina, Texas! Out from the chute came the steer and just behind it Milt Hinkle, one foot hang- ing loose from the stirrup. The dive, and Hinkle caught fair. The beast, with 180 pounds suddenly crashing upon his horns and neck, stumbled, then turned a com- plete somersault, taking the crippled cow- puncher with him. A dazed, dusty second in which the steer struggled to its knees, sought to shake loose the arms that were hooked about his horns, staggered to its feet bawling and dragged itself along a few yards before sinking finally to the ground. The red flag dropped—the signal to the timers. Milt—dusty, grimy, clothing torn and face skinned —waved a hand weakly in the announcement that his work was over. A couple of lank cow-punchers pulled him out from beneath the neck of the steer and lugged him off the track grumbling over the fact that he had missed the world’s record by a full sixth of a minute. bulldogger, Milt Hinkle, of Bo- ” Milt was nothing if not enthusiastic. With a broken hip as a mascot he had counted seriously upon beating a record of six seconds—and the time starts the instant the steer leaves the chute to con- tinue until the beast is help- less on the ground. Walter Padgett, who set that record, by the way, was unconscious when they picked him up. That same afternoon, in- vestigating a noisy wrangle between two starters on horseback, who were gestic- ulating heatedly toward someone on the ground, I found the object of it all to be Milt Hinkle. He wanted to ride in the wild-horse race and was plumb dis- gusted because the starters were afraid he might hurt his hip again! And what does the crowd think of all this? What did Nero think when he took his parquet seat in the Coliseum? The world has changed very little since then. gasp, here and there a scream as a horse goes through a fence or throws its rider, a rising mass of thousands of per- sons that they may seek a better view—then they settle to await the next thrill. Yet it is not hard- heartedness or cruelty. It’s The Finish of Roping and Hog:Tying a Wild Steer simply the working of a Continued on Page 117)

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on armen —- Ctl el el THE SATURDAY EVENING POST MICHELIN Tire for Winter Driving With the coming of winter, the season that is hardest on tires, it becomes doubly important for you to consider carefully what tires you should use. The extra-sturdy construction of Michelin Universals gives them uncqualled stamina for resisting the severe wear and tear caused by driving over frozen, rutty roads. At the same time, Michelin Universals give maximum protection against skid- ding. They combine all the advantages of the raised-tread and suction-tread types of non-skid and, unlike tires with small sharp projections, steer so easily they can also be used on front wheels where protec- tion against skidding on icy pavements is particularly needed. Michelin Universals are the best tires for all year round, but their superiority for winter use is particularly marked. Make up your mind now to use Michelins. Michelin Universals are priced no higher than ordinary makes MICHELIN TIRE COMPANY, Milltown, N. J. Michelin Tire Co. of Canada, Ltd., 782 St. Catherine St. W’., Montreal Dealers in all parts of the world MICHELIN + a gstE33ay $SSS5333,° ' & ya st

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Sere, So ae THE SATURDAY EVENING POST x ro —e ‘Corbin Locks Insure Absolute Security Write us to-day for *‘ The Hardware that Harmonizes” ») f ~ $. P. & F. CORBIN The dmerrt “CCE#SSO% NEW BRITAIN, CONNECTICUT NEW YORK CHICAG( PHILADELPHIA . e. an Hardwar »rporation S November 29,1919

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST 117 Continued from Page 114 strange freak of psychology which seems to take place the stant the first horse plunges — into the arena and the first wild yelp of ‘‘Scra-a-a-tch him!” comes from the throat of an excited cowboy. After that a woman who would faint at the sight of a bleed- ing finger can watch the tram- pling of a wrangler by an out- law horse, scream a few times with the rest of the excited mass, then thrilling sublimely look at the program for the name of the next rider. Perhaps, too, the knowledge that these suicidal maniacs out in the arena appear to take such an extreme delight in getting scarred up may have some effect on the action of the sympathies. One feels far worse when a cowgirl fails to win a race through some trivial drawback which costs the precious second of victory than when her saddle cinch loosens, dumping her off on an eyebrow. Someway, there is the settled certainty that after the doctor has sewed up the laceration she'll be back in the contest ready to ride che worst sunfisher in the corr.l or make Bridting and Saddling a Wild Horse for the Wild«Horse Race on the ground before her horse had beenstopped, and uncinc! ing the saddle ran toward her second mount. The animal shied as the cowgirl slammed the saddle on his back. Pre cious seconds were passing She couldn’t wait to assure herself that the single jerk she had made at the cinch had secured it. A leap and she wa on the horse heading it toward the rail. Then The saddle slipped and Prairie Rose with it. Her spurs caught in the stirrup as she sought to leap clear The horse plunged on, dragging the cowgirl for what seemed to be miles Then the spur loosed and the girl lay on the track unconscious while the rest of the field galloped over her The ambulance clanged for ward and carried Prairie Rose away Not long afterward, when the time came for the women’s bucking-horse con test, a figure strangely familiar to the grand stand roamed round the great arena await ing her mount. The announcer raised his megaphone “Prairie Rose is th’ nex’ rider, on Tango!” In the intervening time no her date to dance for the cham- pionship of the state at the open-air pavilion in town that night. And the best of it all is that the certainty usually wins, There is never a rodeo without its acci- dents. The usual average is two a day, or twelve to the week—accidents which in- clude everything from a fall off an untamed burro, or Rocky Mountain canary, to the piling up of from six to eight horses in a hippodrome race. As a rodeo fiend I’ve seen some three hundred smash-ups. I’ve never seen a man killed or so seriously injured that he didn’t bob up grinning at some other wild-west festival before the season was over. Maybe they’re too hard-boiled to be killable. Certain it is when Indians and savages meant some- thing else besides trade-marks for motor- cycles and firearms. The program? One printing would do for the whole maddened season; the riding of wild burros, a cow-pony race, an Indian race—to say nothing of the inevitable war dances—a squaw race, a Roman standing race, a pony express, or relay race, for men—and one for women—steer roping contests, a wild-horse race, bulldogging, trick-and-fancy riding, wild-steer riding, and the bucking-horse contests. I have never seen a stampede or a rodeo without someone being injured in ey cept the Indian war dances harmless thing of the lot. Nor have I ey seen anyone whoshowed even thesemblance of a streak of yellow. On hand It was in 1918 that Prairie Rose Hender son, bedec ked as ali COW girls during the days of the contests, win the championship in the women’ race at Cheyenne. The start horses thundered round the track and back to the grand stand, where awaited the contestant Prairie Rose was that they daily go through experiences that would send the ordinary man to a padded cell—and think nothing of it. One large town—as large towns go in the West— has been holding a Frontier Days Celebration for twenty-nine years. Inasmuch as many of the world’s championships are fought out at this particular place, the casualty rate runs at least twenty to the sea- son. That makes a total of three hun dred and eighty accidents, ranging all the way from broken bones to con- cussions and wholesale lacerations. There has never been a death or a per- manent injury. Therefore any crowd can be excused for its seeming lack of the realization of horror when a maddened buffalo, for instance, being ridden without sad- dle or bridle, dumps its would-be con- queror and butts him all over the lot. [he crowd knows that while a stretcher may carry him away a horse will bring him bach It is a condition which lures and a condition which has grown throughout the West until it is as much of an in titution as a national holiday or a inish fiesta Thi year the little wn of Rov KY Ford, Colorado, held annual watermelon day. Of course ere was the usual stampede, with ] The census gives the pop ion of Roeky Ford as slightly more ! e thousand and that of ,the entire state of Color@io as about a hor During the celebration there e seventy thousand visitors to the ttle tow : ibout one-fourteenth of the population of the wholestate! Pen dleton, Oregon, holds annually its Stam pede, one of the big wild-west shows of he Northw ,and has been known to ive more than ten thousand persons watching the events. The population of Pendleton is less than five thou- Cheyenne, Wyoming, is very glad to have twelve thousand citizens its Frontier Days Celebration rarely fails to bring more than three times that imher from the surrounding country. onsider also Calgary, Thermopolis, Boise and the hundred or so other towns in the West that annually re- ” Just Before They Rang Up the Ambulance vert to type and bring back the days one had taken the trouble t announce whether Prairie Rose ever again could look at a powder puff But here she was, back on the field, mounted on a high-pommeled saddle and yelling for » pull the blind from the ‘ ) the w rangl hor e's eye :. is more, she rode 7 ango and that night I saw her in a cafe in an evening gown doing a bit of a tango herself So it goes. In a similar race a few da later Mamie Stroud’ssecond mount knocked down the cowboy who sought to hold it smashed against the fence, caught Mi Stroud’s right calf and knee between it body and the heavy railing. Muscles and tendons were torn, but Mamie Stroud fin ished that race. In 1913 in another similar race three women, the Astle sis ters and one other, were unconsciou on the track at the same time, while two cow-punchers, trampled by mad dened re gasping not far away But the next day they were all back again. Is i any wonder, therefore, that in the sheer admiration of superhuman grit one fourteenth of a whole state should de scend upon town of five thousand? There’s a story for every event. Last summer Walter Stirling, small, almost tow-headed, not tov heavy yin the shoul ders and certainly not a superman in horses, were injured and appearance was dragged from be neath the kicking, struggling forms of ix horses where they had piled up on him in a hippodrome race Someone shoved a bottle of ammonia under } nose and he blinkingly came to con ciousness, to stare about him and ask, ‘What's the next event?” “Steer ropin’, Walter,” said the pur veyor of ammonia. Stirling limped off the track, squawking for his lariats And steer roping, when a cham pionship is in the offing, means more than it sounds. The roper pursues a nia e ga ‘ Ordina i minute doe t mea very mut especially if interest Concluded on Page 120

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118 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST November 29, 1919 te. saftL A re ler “| wy ee )! a Be sagan [ee [ee ler lpr ‘TV ae vvsssntsnee JOP IPP FP IPE rP ‘ad Ly oe Rid ORR Oe ee Pg Everywhere on Everything Industry's painting demands are ‘equipment can be prolonged by questions for which Glidden ex- many. On the buildings, on the paint and varnish. Industry's perience will readily find the cor- equipment, and on the product product, too, needs its protecting — rect solution. itself, “‘“everywher me ing’ corating c ies ° ‘ , ere on everything and decorating coats. This service for the manufac- there are innum rab ' . : ; ° ae e ° ° ° ° ens ) ; r le opportuni Besides providing the right ma- turer is a specialized service. Glid- ties lor the practi i . - : a . : : i j a ae ind ew terial, Glidden Service Men are den Service Men are especially ical service that Glidden Finishes 7 prepared to determine the proper trained through many years of can provide. schedule to meet the most exact- service. Glidden Service is avail- factory upkeep is a recognized ing needs. Number of coats, order able upon request. An early con- necessity. Building investment of application and the proper time ference can be arranged by phone must he protected. The life of — codes are all important paint-shop — or wire.

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120 Concluded from Page 117 making the second hand move faster, Con- sider then Roy Kivett, of Little Horse Creek, Wyo- ming, swung his rope at a Wyoming rodeo last summer, watched it travel outward and settle over the horns of a steer. Quickly he veered and scratched his horse into greater peed, The rope ¢ aught the hind legs of the steer, threw the beast high into the air, then crashing downv ard. Kivett leaped from his saddle, the tie rope in his hand, But the horse fluked. It failed to keep a strain on the lariat, thereby allowing the steer to rise. Kivett raced back to his mount, got on its back, once more plunged the beast to the ground and for the second time leaped from his iddle to hog-tie that longhorn. But bad ick still was with him. The tie rope caught in his spur, making a loop over the pommel f{thesaddle. The horse, frightened, reared, then began to plunge, while Kivett hung to that tie rope by one foot, and the pro rate steer was dragged fully fifty feet at the end of the lariat Thus blocke 1, the wee began to wheel with such swiftne it Kivett was lifted and hirled at the end of the tie rope like a piece of lead on a ng. Again and again the horse circled, until watchers grew diz from the sight of the spinning man, his arms and leg prawling, his head bumping against the in-baked ground with every revolution At last the stopped short and begar kick. Three times he missed Kivett’ head only by inches. Then a hoof struck that tie rope and knocked it loose. horse Kivett was free. But did he complain of dizziness, spots before the eyes and a nee the Armistice, where wages were much higher than the average in other industries of the nation, you would have sensed that feeling of “nothing can happen” which clung to us up to the final moment of the walkout of five thousand men. Many can not tell you after all these idle weeks why they walked out, except that somebody promised them they would be freed from the masters and somehow become owners of the mill If you had stood with us that morning yu could not have pictured that which was to come within the hour, when a babel of languages from those very lands we had ived would sound threateningly through these streets. You could not have realized that Americans were to cower within the helter of doorways, with the same cold fear on their hearts that has clutched at the uls of the women and children of the liun-ridden towns of Belgium and Italy nd France and Serbia. It could not be; no, impossible, you would have said, here in this great free land that is American— that 18 boasted of its protection for all people Yet I say to you that it was and it is—a fear that came with the muttering mob of eight thousand or more surging through the streets with menacing gutturals that told of the blood of class hatred burning in their . of the roused prejudices and inher of a score of European coun veins ited grievances tries. Yes, American citizens slunk into deorways or fled unheroically to their homes, to await what might come. That fear, quiescent as I write, with troopers at hand, still rests upon every home in tl mee carefree, contented community that i n the heart of America It should not be, But not ers the acceptance to be say that it i cowardice it is again let me common f conditions as they Lessons of Hatred thousand menaciiy marcher loilers from the mill yes, 1 of nationalities, who in 1 ent “«d for Wiaypre ana and h ‘ no cla or ired hearts of a ore ind years have bee ble t first time with freedom, high to her mont? ome citizer wher naland that has knowr iste, Eight thousand hate-ir pportunl d souls, the tongues of them loosened and ‘ ha ready to be raised against vhom? lhe masters’’— their employer r eighbors and their friends ‘Coa " ing here and there with deadly weap Their judgment and the r viewpoint \ irped back to the ime plane on which thie had stood wh | and misery and oppression cru 1 their souls and THE SATURDAY EVENING POST general run-c feeling Weaving, | 1ined his feet, grabbed t rope, staggered toward the steer and ho tied it before he sank from exhaustion. And the official time of the whole proceeding was one minute and fifteen seconds! Harry Walters, in a nice pink shirt, was the other member of the pile-up in the hippodrome race. A horse rolled on one knee and otherwise carved Walters in a fashion usually guaranteed to produce at ? He did not! least two weeks in a hospital. Walters took more time to recover than Kivett. He did hardly anything until the next day. Then with his horse traveling at a gallop he stood on its neck, crawled under its belly, picked ilver dollars out efthedunt. pedebnaiweed, forward and ‘ Andy-over”—this accom- plished by vaulting from the ground on one side of spee _ horse to the same ground on the ot} ide—jumped straight out of the sar idle, hit the ground behind, horse’s tail and leaped over his rain, thereby winning the grasped the back into the saddle a the trick-and-fancy-riding championship of the world. Perhaps the secret after all lies in the fact that you can’t kill ’em. That must be it. At a little one-horse a fif y four year-ol l rodeo last year I saw cow-puncher fight for the chance to ride an outlaw He broke the record by staying on the horse’s back eleven long seconds, then he broke his collar bone in the descent. The next day he was riding again—and not pulling leather either. At the same show a cow-puncher, scarred and battered, his face a mass of bandages and one arm in a sling, vaited his chance at a tough bronco. naturally became symp: ithe 1e tic. “Get thrown somewhere was a look of sadn in ’ ‘Nope.” There his eyes. “‘Hit’s jest plumb tough lucl I fell offen a cliff last week up by Tufte i Buttes. But I reckon it won’t stop me from ridin’ in this shebang.” It didn’t—that is, for a half minute or so. Then he broke the other arm. How they do it or why they do it is a bit beyond the conception of one who figures his life according to the standards of paved streets and accident insurance, Try to figure it out and you lose your perspective. The natural conception, for instance, of personifie i trouble is a wild horse. Yet one of the ordinary events of every Western tampede is a wild-horse race. Hedged about by cow-punchers and with from one to five lariats on each animal, a herd of from fifteen to thirty horses that never have felt the touch of a saddle are brought into the track at once. Because of the fact that a thin wooden railing forms the only protection and operating under the excuse that it’s the last event, anyway, the lower half of the grand stand suddenly decides to go home, But not the cow- punchers, the wranglers and rastlers. With some of the horses lying flat on the track, with others standing on their hind legs and pawing whatever comes close to them, the shouting, laughing Suicide Club manages to put blinds over the bloodshot eyes and snub ropes over the nostrils. Then at a sig- nal saddles are placed on the quivering beasts, cow-punchers boost comrades on the horses’ backs and the race is on. Some of the outlaws merely stand still and buck. The rest run and buck. Some stay on the track. Most of them go through the fence—grand-stand side preferred, SYNDICALISM STRIKES Continued from Page 11 European countries from came, Nonreason sat upon it all. Blind desire to seize that which belongs to others. Yes, all of that was there, for it had been preached to them in their own tongues. In their own languages it had been spread broadcast that they might read. In a few brief months, despite their prosperity, their high wages, conditions in the mills and in their homes that were a paradise com- pared to those from which they had fled at home—despite all this, in these few brief months they have been taught that all who are not workers beside them in the mills are their enemies. They have been taught to believe that this is a land of oppression, taught to forget that the men with whom they have toiled have given their time, their money and their thought to making them more secure and more contented. Fight thousand of them swung in that inuous column down that happy street of early morning, and those same voices that had bandied true Yankee jests spoke in hushed tones of awe, of caution, of fear itself, That all this was being repeated from American town to American town through the length and breadth of one of the great- est industrial valleys of the nation, on that same morning, is something of which I need not speak. There are others who know, as we to-day know, that all of this and more is true. Potential riot and disorder, disregard of law and the tenets of civiliz tion, have marched past our front door. Our eyes are opened, You who have not seen cannot yet know why and how they are opened to broad vision of the truth. The serpent of syndicalism has struc Its fangs are spirits in those which they Their reasor buried deep in this one portion of our in dustrial life, the steel-producing region of the United State Across the face of the steel town bellies the banner of trailing smoke. It is the master purpose of this Monongahela Val ley to produce steel, Always steel, more teel, more than the neighboring steel town. Brawn and the skill of brawn alone enter into the production of steel, the kind of muscular effort that in a matter of weeks can be converted into skilled labor. Your and your furnace charger are for the of their jobs just so much concen- trated energy. Little of the skill and knowl- edge that attach to many other crafts of labor artistry enter into their work. Given the strength and medium brains, the worker in steel becomes speedily an earner of com high wages it has been possible to worker in the | Hor roller purposes paratively J that milate reasol the alien steel industry more rapidly than in almost any other class of work. He comes, a hardened product, from the mines or the fields of Europe. His sole education has been the doctrine of work, muscular effort, with less call for mental effort than is found in coun- tries other than his own. Thus under the banner of smoke pluming the steel industry of this valley we have gathered from many nations what abroad constitutes unskilled wage earners, and to them has been paid and is being paid to-day more money than skilled American laborers are drawing from a hundred other industries. Aliens Who Vote Pay for the laborer in the Donessen mills ranges from $4.62 for ten hours to $8.50 and $10.35, dependent on the department in which he is employed. For wire drawers the scale ranges from $6 to $12 a day, with the pay roll showing the greater proportion of the men earning an average of $10 daily. Mechanics in all departments range in pay from $6 to $10. Rod mill and open-hearth rollers—comprising a class of labor that is practically unskilled and produced after a few months of tutoring—are being paid from $12 to $26. In some exceptional in- stances the pay ranges higher, and in some rare instances lower. The rod-mill workers are on duty for twelve hours, working every other half hour, a total of six hours actually rolling iron and six hours restirtg. In the blast furnace the wages range from $6 - $8. The general average of all wages paid exclusive of officials in the plants but in- cluding the clerks in the offices of the Donessen mills, is $7.18. The total pay roll for 4000 employees has for six months averaged $800,000 a month. Quickly, therefore, the workmen find themselves the possessors of means. The first few hundred dollars are to them a for- tune compared to those few dollars of pas- sage money which were eked out sometimes from months and years of toil in their home countries. At once, the average man would should grasp American opportunity along with it American principles and ideals. In this town of Donessen there are more than fifteen main groups of foreigners As one citizen puts it, these groups repre- sent “just little bits of Europe set down in an American town,” each independent of the others, each clinging to its native preju- dices, customs and attitude toward govern- ment and what from childhood they have been taught to regard as the governing classes. The Croatians remain Croatians. have their Croatian Beneficial Associ: They itio November 29, '9/9 Out of it alf there are a few that can be urged to make the distance, bucking and pitching, round the half-mile track, while at the starting point all hands clear away the casualties to make room for the winner It is one of the best means ever invented to ruin the human constitution—yet it’s an everyday event. And while all this is going on there’s a bit of cynicism in the fact that there are from one to ten humane agents at work to pre- vent any cruelty to the animals. No one has ever yet thought about protecting th: humans. And no one ever will so long as the West takes its annual week off to revert to type. There are men and women in the West who do nothing through the long winter months but train for the events of thesummer. On every big ranch each idle hour is spent at roping or riding or bulldogging so that every muscle may be ready for the strain of frontier or rodeo days. It is to the West what the yacht race is to Sir Thomas Lip- ton, the annual football fight with Harvard is to Yale, the world’s series to the base- ball fan. Out near Cheyenne is a great ranch where the owner eyes every applicant for work as a horse shark would look upon a doubt- ful trade. He is a maker of champions, is this ranch owner. The name of Charlie Irwin is known throughout the West like a well-advertised patent medicine. No man can work for him who can’t wrangle a horse, rope a steer or ride an outlaw. Nor does Charlie play any favorites, for when the measles of memory break out through the West the names of Charlie Irwin's four daughters are on every program! an organization that speaks Croatian, sub- scribes for Croatian newspapers, dissemi- nates Croatian pamphlets and which in all things that it is and does is still Croatian. Over here you have a Polish organiza- tion. This has extended itself even to re- turned service men of the United States Army. A Polish Legion of these men has been formed by leaders in the Polish colony To these men are given books in the Polish language, papers in the Polish language They address each other in Polish. Friendly enough, unless stirred by revolutionary agitators, still everything underlying their life in the community is “just a little bit of Poland.” Through all the various nationalities goes this clannish spirit, severing each group definitely from Americans and things Amer- ican. For the foreigners as a whole night schools have been e stablish ied in Donessen. The attendance among all the thousands of workers has been so meager as scarcely to justify the money expended. The native language of each particular group is taught in the home. Thus the children learn first the language of their alien parents, and though born in this American town it is only after long attendance at American public schools that the ideas of Europe written across their childhood begin to be eradicated—almost never quite removed. Americanization for these? Yes, there have been scores of different movements, but nothing that more than touched the surface of the problem. Unless enforced their Americanization apparently is unat tainable. Neither is it only the alien of a few brief months or years who is thu caught and held in the swing of the coloni- zation idea. Witness the case of Andrew, a Croatian. Andrew was reading his Croatian paper the other afternoon. He is a likable chap and speaks English fairly well. “* How is it, Andy,”’ I asked, do not read of the papers which are ican?” ‘Me no read an’ write ‘How long y, Andy?” *Me come, said Andy. ** Are you naturalized?” *Me? No, me never had paper to vote.” From an inside “that you A mer- understan’. Me never learn Enlis’.”” have you been in this coun- yes, thirty-two years it is, time. Me get pocket Andrew pro- duced a tax receipt! Undoubtedly Andrew had been a voter. Yes, that is done. Hun- dreds of non-Americans have voted from time to time. Outside of knowing that in some way they get a few dollars as watchers Continued on Page 123

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST Sharing Profits with our Men Ty ‘ SAADANA AR AAA . SA444a 2 4 2'°R' No1249. AAAA ‘ SO OASAAAA vy VVVEL OEY AAAASA A AAS YeveelIA3ds deat PROFIT 6H, “aa of Year 191.9. HE air is full of talk about profit-sharing. Can Labor justly expect tt as a concession by Capital? On what basis can it be de

better In this struggle and counter-struggle reason ible clain are forgotten kxtreme claims take their place Bad leadership some

clared, assuming tt ts just? 2 ~ tumes gets ifs opportunity, é PAAAAAAA j ; : vvy HAA Should it include all em MASSER ET kor nearly a year Hy ,/ reed ployee regardle f occu iraulic has published a series pations of articles on the subject of As for Hydraulic, we Form of Profit-Sharing Certificate used at Hydraulic Industrial Relationship believe profit haring to Naturally, the e articles have be as inevitable for truly successful business as the company which we have outlined. He, too, de been read by men in every walk of life To us at profit making votes himself earnestly, like the first man, to the pro Hydraulic have come their reactions j ! ri oO P ( ; J But we condemn the word “concession” as duction of volume. He, too, should have extra pay Here is the result: Out of the hundreds who applied to the owners of busine SS, because we for extra effort in increasing that volume. have written to u from among bankers, workers, know from experience that dividing a rightful But in Man No. 2 we have, in addition to all investors, executives and so-called radical leaders of share of profits among the men ts not only just, possessed by Man No. 1, ambition, self-control (which thought in labor circles, those who have disagreed but the most profitable disposition we can make means ability to control others), initiative and the with the principles expressed er—just two. of the money so distributed. Profitable use of juality of brain that sees that more volume may mean Little wonder, then, that we affirm with all the money is no concession loss as well as profit. He sees that volume can only earnestness which this close contact with public The crux of the matter is no longer (in our mean profit when production is on a profitable basis. thought gives us, that Industral No Ma ore has initiati oO > prod oO belief) a question with most men of whether He has initiative enough to try to make production but a narrow trip of dividing territory profits hould be shared—the majority agree profitable, and brains enough to realize that only as he ' , ‘ >t LAT ‘ y st cea ye vl « | justifies it, through ating 1 ld he . ' P with the prince pic The crux of the matter 1s . ; . ne Sens prohts, shoul he hope I spe ik for Labor and ¢ ipital alike when we " | } } | to participate 1 hit-division. should a line be drawn or should all participate he Pee St eee ee say: Shall we, then, fight fire with fire, or and if there is to be a line, where shall it be Would this man of muscle p/us ambition, self the waters of mutual consideration? Shall we drawn? control, initiative and brains be content to see his passion with passion, or w th ci easoning fk mployers are pop larly suppose 1 to deter worthy, but less equipped, fellow worker rewarded on we fight greed with more greed, or with an unselfish. mine such a line, but such reasoning is wrong exactly the same basis as himself? Assuredly not. ness which only wants its just dues? We are close It is the men who determine it—the employer Of what reward to him are his qualities and self- together in our convictions—shall we widen the gap, merely perceives it By his verv ambitions. and denial if he cannot, through them, rise to higher when the interests of all demand that this No Man's ' , , | the successive ste ps possible for carrying out his heights in the field of business, than those who con- Land shall be abolished forever? , t te | thar »? ; ambitions, the worker himself, even if uncon ribute less than he Nobody wants trouble, but everyone wants justice. " } 1 sciously, determines the line where proht sharing : Men who really help produce profits should share in : } ld | trained HUS Labor itself, by its performance and by the quality of brains that would make him anything means dividing a sum of money into worth-while but a toiler. He ha mighty muscles and in the job amounts among those who have created it, not into that beléngs to him by natural fitness he devotes that smaller amounts among those who have had no part muscle whole-heartedly to producing volume of prod in its Creation. * * * uct. He's a good worker. He deserves good pay There is today a No Man's Land between the As he works harder and harder with that one thing outposts of Capital and the outposts of Labor. But he has to contribute, his brawn, he deserves extra pay it is a very narrow strip of land. for extra effort. He deserves the advantages of mutual This No Man's Land, instead of a path to closer benefit associations which protect him and his family. association, is a barrier, covered with the barbed He deserves the advantages given by the co-operative } wire of misunderstanding Its hand grenades are store and welfare work. ultimatums—its barrage is the strike—its mines are Here is another man alongside the first: decisions based upon passion and necessity for self- He, too, is a good worker—and so to him, also, there protection. Attacks, too often, are over-aggressive should be coming those advantages of association with and, in turn, invite other attacks which go them one ~& AYDRAULIC | PRESSED STEEL COMPANY Department Heads, Superintendents, Foremer Bosses, and there the line is drawn. Every

is given for advancement across the profit-shart > * * We have said that this division of profits pays. It pays because there is incentive There is incentive because there is hope. A thousand aspirations are coupled to the company’s aspiration. There is a concert of interests. There is a spirit that laughs at trouble and would disown a trouble-maker as a crew would disown the man who would scuttle the ship This is the twelfth of a series of ar ticles in this publication. Reprints of former articles will be sent on request THE HYDRAULIC PRESSED STEEL COMPANY of Cleveland

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST November 29, 1919 Reputation hat ¢ i / is estab- lished in public opinion as the family name of high- cha crtel products is the Inevital result of deter- mines ar velopment ol quality and satisfaction. Onliv unive! i acceptance of Certain / merit makes possible the far-reaching proportion of its business. Phi 1 rmitude of Or rtain- facilities gives to you— vear alter year—Certain-teed Prod icts Of € ceeding qual- ity at m al rate prices. t Pro } ‘ erfainteed PAINT VARNISH ROOFING& RELATED BUILDING PRODUCTS

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Continued from Page 120 at the polls, and that in some way this lets them into the voting booth, they know little of the ballot system. Hundreds are like Andrew. He explained that he could get all his home news from the Croatian paper, and added that he had a little daughter at home who is learning to read English and that sometimes she reads to him from the American newspaper. Yet Andrew is only one type. There is a large group, represented among all the nationalities here, of which much capital has been made by agitators as the “ workers who exist in miserable shacks.” | there is no dispute about that live in miserable shacks — filthy, Certainly They do nsanitary, crowded quarters, wherever they may find space to shelter their families and all the boarders they car induce to share their with them. If you lived group of foreigners who way you would get what miserable shacks directly above a exist in just that I mear Forced into this b Another principle a >? No. iIved of Donessen are thousands of the workers ir wage slay ogether is inv It he banks dollars accumulated by the miserable shack Living amid squalor, hundreds are the possessors of thousands of dollars. Wh ’ Well, they have one object in view that time when they can return to their native land and live the remainder of their lives tr omparative opulence. And th ambition passed on to their enildarer Since the strike had its advent, one month ago at time of writing, scores of these aliens from the most undesirable homes have cashed in on their intentions and their sav- ing One foreign agent in Donessen can how the sheaf of passports, the bundle of receipts for thousands of good American dol- lars converted into foreign money TI ey are of the group now going home; that has intended to go home from the moment their touched these shores; that has lived apart from Americans and American ideals and ideas, for the reason that their have remained a part of Europe Cases are common of the worker, the un- killed laborer ving amid the filth of his shack, who has exchanged a worn thousand dollars to ten after a few years under the moke plume of the steel industry. Amer- than half the average wage feet iniserable bankbook for five thou and dollar ans earning le of the foreigner in the steel mills of Dones- en are maintaining comfortable homes and earing their families with every needed ivantage. Various forms of Americaniza- tion effort have reached out to include the groups of alier Each has been repelled y lives within itself, end, its population de- those who are Little Italy to the reased from time to time by going back or increased by those who have induced to come over and share in the freedom and prosperity of America—later themselves to go hack, pee! The Helplessness of the Law Among these for whom America is a temporary residence has come the agitator of the Finnish reds, the Russian unionists, the I. W. W., the syndicalist, the super- anarchist. Isit astrike of labor? Yes, and as such, as an effort at union organization, it is greeted for the most part with neutral- ity on the part o° the American citizen not directly involved. Yet—-the American in Donessen has had cause to think. A few weeks ago the Donessen authorities arrested and jailed fourteen Russians in Literature denouncing the United States Government, calling for “‘the workers to arise and estab- lish a soviet,’’ was taken on the persons of these Russians In the midst of the strike thousands of pamphlets advocating “the dictatorship of the workers, the overthrow of the American Government and the abolishment of all law"’ were plastered throughout Donessen and other towns of the Monongahela Valley. These came from members of the ‘‘Com- munist Party” in Donessen. Seizure of the industries and ownership of the steel mills when “this revolution ”’ shall have ended are leading strings that have inspired the alien heart to violence and to “arising against the raster class.”’ Agitators come and go. Aliens with hun- dreds of dollars in savings, with many Liberty Bonds, are being taught to threaten and intimidate Americans who have refused to have further relations with the so-called strike after its revolutionary ideas had boiled to the surface. In Donessen and in one house THE SATURDAY every steel town of the valley is expressed the opinion among Americans that only drastic measures summary action on the part of Congress, real power in the hands of the Department of Justice will end the menace of syndicalism inoculating the souls of the foreign-born and foreign-living residents As for the intentions of the agitators, there is this example: Every gun store in the valley was invaded prior to the calling of the strike. Hundreds of weapons were bought before the authorities could the sale of firearms to any not an oflicer of the law gun store in Monongahela City was broken open and fifty guns taken. The state police have taken scores of revolvers from the homes of aliens, new shiny weapons all. These are not the conditions of Dones- sen alone. Working like unholy leaven throughout the mass of more than 150,000 alien workers in the steel t f Mor essen, Don ra, ( lairtor 7 Homestead, Braddock, Cart town, New Castle and others, the much-exploited I heated to with the brew of radicalism and anti-Americar propagar la. There is nothing furtive about it It is boldly, glaringly, detiantly against all gov- ernment As one witness told the senate committee, it is “‘syndicalist a hy.” Clergymen have sought the foreigners against wild theories and blood spilling teachings, trying to instruct them that these are against all the tenets of the church. One clergyman in Donessen was threatened with the destruction of his home. Leaders among the aliens in the church demanded of the bishop that this clergyman be removed. Another clergy man public sermon said this: ‘I am not here to defend or condemn either employers or the workingmen, but stop person Thereupor a wns of Charleroi, Duque ne, Johns- one-time egie melt ng pot has been overflow to counsel of Donessen in a EVENING POST as your spiritual adviser to call your atten- tion to the right or wrong of your acts. I have watched the movement, read the public sentiment, read the investigation by the senate committee and have thus come to my present convictions. “If you have taken part in bringing about this strike you must have been either in the right or wrong. There is not any neutral ground. To be in the right you must just cause and serious griev- ances to be corrected ‘Now in all the by the senate committee no evidence ha been forthe oming to snow either just cause or serious grievances, “Tt has been shown that your wages are just, higher than is paid in any othe industry in the world; that the great ma- jority of the men are perfectly satisfied with their wages, their treatment and the hours they work. Hence I that you are in the wrong. Only a small pere work lor g hours Many are paid on the « ight hour basis anda f for overtime “The eight-hour day the corporation had sutficient me pay time and a half for work if it could be done for straight time y, for in pay six dollars for the same work that could be done for four do lars? Does this not prove that the eight- hour day would be giver had the men? ‘The world at large need the productior , and that is wi you are working more than eight hours. And the men themselves admit they are being paid for it, and want to earn the money. W here, therefore, is ar y Just grievar ce?’ Andrew is of Croatian origin. The h of Andrew, as he has described it to n e, was on a Croatian hillside. He had there his wife and two children. Below in the valley lived the master to whom he have a investigation thus far evel am led to conclude entage men , with time would be given if nto do so, overtime > tance, country and the ome was 123 a ‘subservient peasant His home, hi daily life, his family —all were enslaved to the will of the master who lived in the greater house far below the rutted hillside The daily fare of Andrew’ ¢ } imkly Wa black bread and bear On Sunday there was a bit of soup bone and great feasting on that thick soup of bea with the ever present black bread Andrew told me this a re tood one evening wu i American meat market and purchased a d lar \ { if icy steat OT ‘ ud Andrew there is meat There ji a ot of garde it ire home, and there i ‘ TT munt, beside the five Libert IB j 1 ca rt t the broken language in which A ‘ told it to me shortly be fore the strike. But | effect : M\ DO t ‘ i grea enginec ie da He yoing to take up mecha ind I am se n m away to that nool where the ich him more Yes, Learn plenty money now ymetime it that [ have hur 1, maybe five hundred d the mo Pride beamed on the face f And He spoke i} recent it ttle of the splendid grade he is making in the tow: ho ind how he would neve I vy of the muiserie amid) which e Wa born on that Croatian hillside. He told me ot t ttle gir maste the pr , and f her advancement in her drawing lessor Ye Andrew ha his home everything that spea ! comfort and even of luxur For Andrew was a skilled roller in the mills, though he came here with nothing but his two hands four years ago. There 3 ontentment about Andrew be fore the strike And it was before the st e, too, that I had reaso to | cle ip he itistied opulence of Johr The home of John wa in Poland. In Poland he had the dr from the table of the master ove the land on which he and scores of othe like him were permitted to live and toil He had no country he told me one eve ng recent! as we sat in the bleachers at the town base ball grounds, where ma f fs vy cou trymen are player home wn league In } wn W het ‘ | ‘ had been bandied al t between Pru i ism and Russianism, how it ‘ e had had no voice the \ ‘ earliant remembrance, and v itt ee yen of effort to save 1 ey eno t é > Ameri i John laughed as he Yes, this two weet pay I save ‘ n wha t took that two, three ye ind see him.1 beautiful pipe You would have to know Joh: we ness for fancy pipes to appreciate th Ube deftly turned meer tun } ‘ ind real amber stem he proud held out to me “Why, that iyreat pipe, Johr Where you get him?” | asked , “Oh, me buy him dow it the t 4 terday,”’ said Johr H t me fift dollar John’s Fifty-Dollar Pipe And John held the stuffed it with the cheapest and tobacco to be found this side bowl tenderly as he rankest of the cabbage country, I relate this merely as one of many incidents that might be brought out to show how even in the e of the high cost of living the skilled mi have been sufficiently, even prodigally, supplied with money through the highest known in this country It was men like John wh two mechanical piano players in one day in Donessen ; dollar suit Over there John wa the landowner whatever in the lootha golt worker wages ever o bought twenty men whose wive bu ninet about betwee! e greate Poland he knew tw ther the home in irt A ) ‘ mie t ‘ A | I low | y just ( } arent But that is another story, Johr wry stor as thers are many such stories amony these me the mills of the Mone nganeia Valle So this is John, of Donessen, th happ contented, prosperous mill town of yester day. John told me how when the Spanish the val uperintendent influenza spread its ravages acros ley his mill and the (Concluded on Page 127 Doss

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124 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST November 29, 1919 Manufacturers Offered A Deep Water Port an Railway Centre NOTE As its name implies, the Du Pont Chemical Company is not a real estate concern. We have a limited number of Hopewell factories, factory sites and other equipment—our peace surplus—which we offer for immediate sale direct to manufacturers at attractive terms. In these announcements we are employing the most powerful and the quickest means for dis- posing of them — of acquainting the public with the opportunities Hopewell offers. It will be a matter of first come, first served. Quick action is advisable. Write or wire today for data. In offerme DIRECT t manulacturers it meat irplu Ol tau The District has many other advantage >of commanding Lippert tor factory site ind equipment in the Petersburg-Hopewell tance besides transportation. These recommend it as a solution of Industrial District of Virgima, the Du Pont Chemical Company the problems confronting the manufacturer who, because of adver offering a manufacturing locatior RECA earn value for conditions affecting his business, desires a change of plant location; t| Wp itotf products t Lomesty nal fore n markets. . . | , the shipmet de wre the manufacturer seeking a site for a branch factory, or the pro Iho })i tr 1 it the ee tion ! hv \} ] itton and Jame pective manutacturet looking fora place to begin business. . ! t hit rtot€ h 1) rat | team con oO \ . ° an Rive eye a ter cea. eee et ae aaa \mong these advantages are factories and railway sidings already ith tran \thanti South American and coast C port | roduct “1 7 ’ Ld built, factory sites affording ample room tor expansion, an adequate mii he loaded on hhiye it the Tl jn well wharf or transported in lal 1 lal I lid - \ i Sul] i c ‘ abor trot es, splendic OousiIn harge tn We al it Norfoll re Wit port Ney Va t quantities of tbor;r Uppy Lic yong rom l oOubp . wou _y “ >) Wi ‘ a ‘ar ‘—sS ioimunitton cre hipped versea trom Hope Ve Iland thousands of fan ilitie W priced and a undant pows r, ater init tue / Ti aren troops from Camp Lee, in this Distriet, were transported to France to sources of many raw materials used in basic industries, low living ; 7 : . : a wn ia Che District is served bv the Norfolk and Western, the Atlantic costs to workers and a climate most favorable to industrial activity Coast Line and the Seaboard Air Line, three great trunk-line roads and health See opposite page tor specific data.) hich, with their connections, give Hopewell manufacturers rail These factors enter vitally into the problems of increasing pro ess to allimportant market centres, North, East, South and West duction, keeping down factory costs and raising the margin of profits FF b d H ! i male and ten ‘ it ent! esent a and conseque t | { rents lower the efmfci ( | er | ay ( we is | t ] breed ¢ rite t \ en | ( her vest W t r lhe Du P t mpa tame 30, OOM) worke Stantiv wor a ¢ vyhere te move or where Hopewell ‘ t month's ne from Likew CHO while } \ \] \ n ii eft isal me surre gs ee ) r t ‘ the ' S HH } ind « t ‘ \ \l ha ( >» i d labor i} I ( l la ! 4 waves were not nece in ia ise ot low Hope well } Ss] I sing prot lem To a or costs. While workers received | n wages modate its vast army of workers at Hopewell, t! it most war industrial centres, their actual Du Pont Cor i! It } indreds of cottages, bung were higher Compared W th pl Ss other low ind aormitories hese prett homes, with lawns the Hopewell worker S hity cent buvs a and gardens bordering on well-paved Streets, ar dollar's worth of good equipped with electricity and all modern conveniences ¢ housing problem is so qosely allied with the For executives there are a large number of attra m of labor that a manufacture these davs tive houses ont bluffs, overlooking the James River tere t hin elt n what ort ! t { The rents f I t are con paratively as Low al the a ble tor | rkers. The scarett t houses workers’ he «-* Photograph on lower left—A few of Hopewell’s attractive homes overlooking wy 7 ~] the James River. Similar houses, cottages and bungalows for 12,000 workers are available Photograph below —\ Hopewell pier extending into the James River. It is large enough for a number of ships to load and unload at the same time. v A Scene ona Hopewell Deep Water Wharf

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— THE SATURDAY EVENING POST 125 Manufacturers Offered A New Gateway World Markets Where Hopewell Is oN @ - | What Hopewell Has . on Phe District the Chesapeake Bay area, lying 23 ‘. £ mile t Virginia, and ( I} ipproximate * | ] ( ten large ¥ \ 1). ¢ ( ite Philadel € | York ) hours 40 14 Savannah, 1 i irs min es: ( la 17 4 | ( Str. | SS ho 2 What Hopewell Is re ' Hopewell, dur the w rgest gun tt t \ i population of 40,000 t ap Natural Resources I turers it \ ( a eo \ rete! ‘ , aaa . 4 ; re i : je ‘ | ( dannu . 00 ee 0 wer | t " Hopews tic and health condit r : for lumber or for pulp a rmaking: 25,000,000 Consult Our Experts—Free i par ; EC aN | ad f toh oo. 2-000 000 ist ft cor > OOO OOO oO ‘ | | I I b = sights $5 ( ( rt itt ‘ ’ ! {re HT 7a \ Du Pont Chemical Company Incorporated Wilmington, Delaware Petersburg Chamber of Commerce, Petersburg, Va. Photograph on lower right—One of Hopewe! fan hotels. #—> Photograph below—An attractive and commodious club |} eat Hopewell. ¥ One of the three gigantic power plants at Hopewell having a total h. p. capacity of 60,000

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126 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST €} FOR POWER SURETY There are automobile dealers in New York who add a Bosch Magneto to every car they sell. They know the sales asset that Bosch Equipment gives them. Their customers are glad to pay the added cost because they know that Bosch Magneto Ignition means absolute Ignition satisfaction. The Automobile you buy can be Bosch Equipped if you insist on it. AMERICAN BOSCH MAGNETO CORPORATION Main Office and Works-—-Springfield, Mass Branches —-New York, Chicago, Detroit, San Francisco 300 Serwee Stations m 300 Cittes AMERICA’S SUPREME IGNITION SYSTEM MOTOR TRUCKS - TRACTORS - AIRPLANES: MOTOR CARS MOTOR BOATS: MOTOR CYCLES ‘GAS ENGINES November 29, 19/9

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(Concluded from Page 123) came to his home, and how they had his family removed to the bigger city hospital and saw that they had good food and medi- eal attention; though at that time John himself had been ill and had not worked for many weeks, and the money was low in the family purse. At home in Poland John was one of the many little sheep on the hillsides, to be slaughtered or driven to toil as it pleased those of a class greater than he. In Don- essen John is a citizen of the great land, a man of affairs, the equal of the burgess of the town, the mill boss, the superintendent, yes—John has begun to feel—the equal of the president himself. When he talked to me he had nothing of complaint to utter. He told me he was being paid the highest wages he had ever received, a wage of $21.80 daily, for John has learned to direct those great muscles of his with skilled efficiency. Yes, John’s wage income has risen to above $5000 a year, and the high cost of living has not worried him nearly so much as it has thousands of salaried men with white collars at office desks. But that aside. A Heritage of Suspicion Five I point you this town of Donessen. thousand merry children play in its broad snady streets of asunny evening. It boasts more babies to the square in¢ +h than any other town of its size in America. Here, though this town celebrated its twentieth annivers: only the other day, is a com- munity of 15,000 souls. Here hundreds of workers within the last few years became prospective or actual home owners and prosperous, ¢ ntented citizens. I can give you first-hand facts to show that the wages paid the workers of Dones- sen have been and are higher than the average wages paid in any other industrial community. The result has been that this has become known as a town of cheerful- a town that in the great world out- stripped all other towns of its class in the nation in oversubscribing Liberty Loans, in the purchase of War Savings Stamps, in the countless other means of helping win the war. It gave from its 15,000 population 500 sons to actual fighting service. Donessen, three months ago, was one of the most contented communities in the United States. Yes, there were miserable homes here, too, as there are miserable homes everywhere. There need have been none, but wherever apparent poverty or lack of comfort sits on the doorsteps of a home in Donessen I have investigated and found that had an income ten times greater been wished upon that home it would still have been miserable. There are some folks like that. This town has forged ahead among the leaders in the upper Monongahela Valley, with a promise of becoming one of the first cities of the valley. It is a town that was pouring its millions of dollars’ worth of steel products out each year to help meet a world demand, and in return has lined its pockets with the gold of high wages. Wages in these mills, to the actual labor in the mills, have increased since the war more than one hun- dred and thirty per cent, or more than the cost of living itself in the same period. This is the town that through Amer- icanization work in its schools promises in another decade if unhampered to turn out citizens of first rank. But all that was yesterday, before syndicalism struck. There came men of poisoned tongues to Donessen. At first we smiled and ignored them. Surely this doctrine of discontent and disordered minds could not find lodg- ment among us. Ah, there we failed to dis- eount the heritage of European blood that coursed in the veins of our aliens. For ages their ancestors have been oppressed, ground THE SATURDAY under the heel of a myriad of autocracies flaming their gaunt specters of death across the pock-marked face of Europe. For allthat they have become one with us in our in- dustrial life, all the time they have been sone That is their heritage, and they are blameless. They remember those things to which they were born, and in the memory lie suspicion and ignorance of American ways and life. After all, to them America has been some thing of a miracle, a mirage of opportunity in which they have not fully believed. It might fade. Oh, yes, the seed of anarchy has been there in some of these souls. So the idle parasites of syndicalism came with their noise to confuse the workers. They came to create from thin air mon- strous wage-slavery systems. Four months ago none of these men believed they were wage slaves. They were satisfied with their jobs, their earnings, their homes. And almost overnight they came to a new view- point, perhaps the most dangerous that ever has been arrived at in America. Yes, the men of sane minds could not and did not believe the ranting, idle noise that had come to confuse the workers. Scarlet revolutionary ideas were being taught and to-day are being taught. The doctrine that the man who works with his hands is alone the wage slave, a downtrodden miserable creature, has been so skillfully injected that these thousands of aliens have forgotten all those things they told me a short time ago. Home, family, savings accounts, com- fort and luxuries—none of these mean any- thing to the syndicalist liars. They have found a fertile field for red revolution and they have propagated their virulent ideas in that field. The serpent has struck, and a ‘master has been born from among decent, hard-working, lenient employers, business and professional men. The business men of this town of Donessen, the same men who in times of stress have carried these work- ingmen and their families over the rough places, who have been their friends and neighbors, ready with a helping hand or a dollar in time of misfortune—these men have been openly boycotted by the syn- dicalist agitators. class”’ Martyrs Without Cause I am not one of those business men. My own work is such that even red revolu- tion itself would not impair my opportu- nities. So you, my fellow American, skeptic or believer in these truths I am giving you, can take every word of this as impartial. Yes, we counted too much on the sanity and the common sense of the aliens. We have seen them, in the name of labor organ- izations that have repudiated their very syndicalist leaders, fired with blind rage. Why, I heard the publisher of a labor publication in Pittsburgh, the heart of this district, denounce the red radicals heading all this disorder. I have received at the hands of the Central Labor Union of this Western Pennsylvania a resolution denounc- ing the syndicalist leaders now striving to put internationalism, lawlessness and men- tal and social disease on a foundation where they can make these things replace the Government that is American and orderly. Bloodshed, disorder, martyrism—are sought by these syndicalists, that the ‘y may create moree mpty noise cone erning‘ ‘thugs”’ employed by the ‘master class.” I have this not from the lips of any employer, not from any boss, but from the lips of John himself. He told me only yesterday, the day before this article is written, that he must become a ‘“marteer.’”” That was his way of pronouncing it. “A martyr to what, I asked him. for what, John?” EVENING POST “Oh, a marteer for the cause, for the unions. For the cause it is that I must be arrested, that I must be shot,’”’ John ex- plained to me. “Why, John, you or bother you. I asked. But John shas been told he must become a ‘‘marteer.”” It has been preached to him until he believes it. He must do something to be arrested or shot. And the thousar ds of Johns have been inspired with that idea. For this it is that they have bought weapons, for in this the syndicalists have built their foundation of revolution. If there are no ‘‘marteers” there can be no cause. There can be no appeals against constituted law and order. Always the blame must attach to those upholding the law, while they, the lawless, may assault other workingmen, terrorize and boycott business men, as they have done in this once peaceful community of Donessen. Steadily the conditions under which these men work have been improved. I have studied them, and to-day the worker in the mill is recognized and treated as a human being, aside from his value as a working man and the high wages he receives. Not only is he safeguarded in the mills but his home life has become a matter of stud) and those things that count for better and happier homes have been supplied. arrest 9.” no one is going to Why should they Wanted—A Sense of Humor Special Americanization schools have been provided for the aliens. Night schools financed by the corporation by which they are employed have been opened. Within the mills themselves classes for the study of the steel industry have been created. These classes have been open to the humblest workingman. In these they are given technical instruction of the in- dustry, an education in practical workman- ship that gives every worker, American or foreign-born, full opportunity to improve his position and to advance to the highest possible place in the industry itself. Under the thralldom of the poisoned tongue there has come complete disregard for these things. Aliens have ignored the night schools and not one in one thousand has shown any disposition to improve his own condition other than in a financial way. The chief aim of each alien is to save and save and save until he has that competence whereby he can return to the ned of his fathers. I sit now where I look at the public park and playgrounds purchased and equipped by the corporation owning these mills. I think of the band that gives its concerts, yaid for its time by this same corporation. | am one of the players at the Donessen baseball grounds, aid out and equipped by the corporation. I think of scores of bet terments brought about for these men. The writer, informed by the words of these same workers, tells every American that violence has been and is being i inspired by educated propagandists, organizers, ex pert martyr makers, who must have martyrs properly to spread their poison. When John was told he must becomea martyr I thought of the home of John here, and of his home in a Poland of pestilence; and yes, I thought, too, of that fifty-doll ir meer chaum pipe, and I wondered if maybe the sense of humor might not eventually save some of these Johns. But all in all, this is a warning, a red warning if you please. To-day the martyrs are being made. Law and order is being forced to defend itself, and then it in-turn is accused of murder and riot. All this is in order that the lying poison of the syn- dicalists may spread through the root and branch of organized society and wither law, order, decency, the American home and the American Government, to be re placed by the syndicalists backed by the thousands of misled foreigners they have gathered to the cause. Thus it is we have these once contented aliens, who yesterday breathed gratefulne for the freedom and op portunity of America, to-day spitting venom and hatred for what the syndicalists have taught them are the ruling classes. This is a warning to America and Amer icans. The writer tellg you that murder i being implanted in the hearts of workingmen by disciples of idleness raised in power to the nth degree, and that. they honest have so raised themselves on the bowed backs of the aliens, who are my friend that they may attain the place where they can loot the industrial treasure-houses of the nation, as their teachers, Lenine and Trotzky, have looted the riches of Ru of Marxian do They are the students trines, of the preaching of every creator of turbulence and untruth and chao They to-day are gripping the throats of the labor unions of the country. They have placed their fangs in the souls of a million or more of the workers of America, and the polson is spreading. Already they are making impossible adjustment of condi tions between capital and labor, that each may be fair with the othe Underneath, the great heart of America will continue its steady beat and in year to come the poison will be worked out of the national system. But it is to-day that more than half measures are needed to save communitie ich as this of Donessen. How will come out? The propert owners of eve ry } nd, the eads of indu the upholders of law and order, tl ie of the nation itself are being pictured a the unscrupulous enemies of these thou sands of alien At first they don’t want to believe, but from conditions back of them for genera tions In their native countries the have known such things there, and f they believe such things her The Contagion of Discontent They have more than their ll and muscle could purchase for them w.iert else in the world, but the lust of the ! dicalist is upon them. The virus of discon tent has worked in the blood. It is for every American to awaken to this. It is for the executives of all the states to open their ears to that murmuring menace that passed through the streets of Donessen, Surely it has been preached that tions of anarchy cannot be repeated in thi cond nation as they have been in Europe. Aliens don’t know that. Let me speak for them, as they have told it to me, just as it has been taught to them: “We, the workers, will lay the founda- tion. Gradually we will a ww in power, until we control the mills, the mines, the railroads. The syndicalist leaders have told us that the cause comes before everything There is no such thing as honor or law or decency. Employ any methods to win We are going to do that.” What do the aliens want? They can’t tell you. They cannot explain, because it i not of t»eir own desire that they have been taken from their places in the face of work demand and in tne — t of prosperity and high wages. It is lat the ndicalist leaders want, and the e workers are being made the tools to get it Methods mean nothing to them. Any means justify their end-——so have the syndicalist leaders pro claimed. These leaders are in power at thi moment. World-wide disorder is spreading and you, Mister American Citizen, need not think that your home is too remote be touched by it

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128 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST November 29, 1919 ee

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST 129 The Still Better Willar does away with the most common battery repair expense ~.re~insulation OUR KNOWLEDGE of electricity has made you realize the tremendous importance of insulation. It’s just as important zvside your storage battery as on any of the wires that lead from it to your lights, starting motor and generator. Inside that battery are the jars in which are sealed up the plates (positive alternating with nega- tive), the battery solution, and the insulation which separates each pos- itive plate from its negative neighbor. In ordinary batteries the first thing to wear out Is this insulation Jars and plates may be still in good condition, but the battery has to be opened and “‘reinsulated”’ at considerable expense After that, no one knows how long it will last It may be long enough to offset the expense, it may not Sut the invention of Willard Threaded Rubber Insulation en- x bher jar i r lution iled iti ' which i I ii i 1 tirely does away with this most common cause of trouble and ex- pense. The Still Better Willard does not have to be reinsulated ; because it has the durable threaded rubber insulators which last the full life- time of the battery. Four years’ experience on thou- sands of cars is daily proving how much Threaded Rubber Insula tion means to the car owner in better battery efficiency and fewer battery repairs. Next time you call, ask us for a fuller explanation of the Still Bet- ter Willard Willard Service. With Threaded Rubber Insulation

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130 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST November 29, 19/9 RIP VAN WINKLE LANDS AN ORDER (Continued from Page 13 But don’t you think No one could “Yes, he hits hard he’s a bit harsh on the boy? pull an order out of the C. M. & B. witha pair of dentist's forceps and the old man knows it darn well. He o afraid that we fellows out here won't put the screws on the boy hard enough because he is the presi- dent's son that he thinks he'll take a turn himself. But he’s positively rough. I’ve a mind to tell the boy not to worry, that we know something about the C. M. & B. that his father doesn't ‘f wouldn't say a thing about it to him,” said Williams, smiling shrewdly. “Listen! There’s something doing over at the C. M. & B. offices. I heard yesterday afternoon that old Maganch had been fired and a man by the name of Arbuckle, who has been assistant purchasing agent for the past six months, has been made purchasing agent. And what I came in here to tell you wa that this new man was pointed out to me in the dining room of the University Club last night, and who do you suppose was dining with him? Why, none other than the president of the C, M. & B. and our young friend, Victor Havelock, Jr.!” “No!” exclaimed Carrington. “Vout” ‘Are you sure?” “Certain! “Well, what do you think of that? Now how did the boy ever do it? Why, say, if he should land the varnish business of the C. M. & Bit would be the biggest customer the Chicago office has taken on in two vears! Say, tell me, did Victor look like he felt at home with these two fellows you know, was he real easy and natural, or did he appear as if he was straining himself to all that?” looked as if he felt as replied William: Wonder how I'm curious to hear will have to say about it when he morning. We'll certainly not intelligent and If you ask me, he eusy a8 an ok 1s hoe,’ ‘Well that's got my he got in with them? look goat! what he comes in thi say a word to him about the old man’s letter. If he can get in with the president of the C. M. & B., why he certainly ought to be a salesman enough to get them to use Havelock goods in their paint shops. We'll just let him fight his own battle.” But when Havelock came in that morn ing he said nothing about the C, M. & B. or any of its officers Nor did he mention the letter from his father. He merely left word with the girl at the switchboard that he would call that morning at the offices of the C, M. & The next morning his report slip showing calls made the day before recorded no order from that road, but did mention the fact that C. M. Arbuckle, for some months as- sistant purchasing agent of the C. M. & B., had been promoted to the position of pur- chasing agent and that he would follow him up very closely and try to get him to switch to the Havelock line soon. And Carrington wondered, Had any other man on the sales force dined with the purchasing agent and the president of a road of the importance of the C. M. & B. he would have blown about it round the office for a week and his reports would have been full of reference: “Am getting very close to the new purchasing agent. Had dinner with him and the president”’— the word “ presi- dent” would have been underlined—‘“‘ last night. Am getting close to some big busi- ness, Am on the inside track at last.” But there was none of this on Havelock’s report the next day, nor the next, nor the next. Indeed Havelock seemed to be pay- ing no special attention to the C. M. & L. with the exception of the regular twice-a- week call that he had persisted in ever since he started after the business. The fact was he was busy in other directions and had of late been developing considerable new busi- ness withsome other roads, rather to every- body’s surprise except Longstreet’s. Finally one Friday afternoon two weeks after the dinner at the University Club reported by Williams, Havelock asked Car- ae if he might be away over Saturday, ying he wanted to go to a house party. W he *n Carrington gave his permission he little dreamed that when he picked up his paper Sunday morning he would run across the name of his cub railroad salesman in the list of guests at the week-end house party being held at the home of the president of the C. M. & B. at Lake Forest. yy | morning the whole office knew , but when Havelock came in promptly on time as usual not a word did he say of the party. Carrington longer “Say, Havelock, what's this I saw in the Sunday papers about you being one of the guests at Hayden’s house party?” he asked. ‘Why, I was there.” “How long have you known the old man, for goodness sake?” “Oh, three or four months.” **Know him well?” “Fairly. I've been out to his house a few times before and on a couple of short sails with him on his yacht out on the lake.” “Well for the love of Mike! Why, you almost live with the man, don’t you?” Then half in fun and half seriously: “* Why don’t you sell him some varnish?” Havelock colored up. “Do you know, Mr. Carrington, that’s just what’s worrying me. I know Mr. Hayden and I know Arbuckle, the purchas- ing agent, but darned if I’m able to sell them any varnish!” Just then Carrington was called on the phone, and when he had finished and turned to question Havelock the latter was gone. From then on it was a joke round the office that Victor Havelock, Jr., could sail and dine with the president of the C. M. & 8. but he couldn’t sell him a pint of varnish. And that joke— at first passed round on the quiet gradually grew louder and louder until scarcely a day passed that one or two round the place didn’t bring it to Havelock’s personal attention in some way. In fact, it became extremely embarrassing. Did he bring in a good order from another railroad someone— even Carrington some- times— was sure to take all the joy out of it by suggesting as though it were a sudden inspiration: ‘Oh, by the way, suppose you drop in on the C. M. & B. this afternoon. They use quite a bit of varnish and we've never done any business with them. Un- de rstand you know the president pretty well.” Weeks passed and one afternoon toward the middle of October Havelock found him- self once more descending in the squeaky elevator of the C. M. & B. office building without the desired order. And this time he was utterly discouraged, for just when things seemed ready to break right for him affairs had taken a new turn. Arbuckle had been rather noncommittal for several visits past, and he had been at a loss to account for it. But this time Arbuckle had opened up and told him what was on his chest. He said he had been working for months to get the varnish stock in such shape that he could switch to the Havelock line and at the same time he had been quietly doing a little missionary work in the paint shops in favor of Havelock goods. But now that the time seemed nearly ripe he had begun to realize that his very friendship with Havelock made the situation just a bit em- barrassing, for if there was one thing the president would not stand for it was let- ting friendship influence purchasing. Of course Havelock had smiled a melancholy sort of smile as he sat facing the purchasing agent across the latter’s big battered desk. And reaching out he had gently taken from Arbuckle’s hand the nickel-plated railroad- spike paper weight he had been toying with nervously as he had explained the situation. “*Now just let me have that silver spike and look me in the eyes, old boy,” Havelock had said. ‘‘What you're trying to tell me in a nice gentle way is that there is no chance of my getting any of the ( M.&B. varnish business because we're old colle ge chums. Isn’t that about it? Be brutal.” **Well, I wouldn't say that exactly, but you know the chief.” ‘‘T do know him, and now that you speak of it I believe you're right. I've boon so set on getting an order from the ( . & B. that I’ve not seen the situation in its true perspective. No, don’t try to let me down casy—-I see it all now. I’ve been making it awfully embarrassing for you and I ought to have known better. The only way we ever could get your business would be for me to drop out and for Longstreet to start eallingon you. Afterawhile— afewmonths, say — perhaps you could give him an order.” He had seen a look of tremendous relief come into Arbuckle’s face. “All right,” he had said, rising and hold- ing out his hand to the purchasing agent. “We'll get together evenings, of course, as could restrain himself no usual, but you won't see me round the office any more. I'l] just hand the C. M. & B. over to Longstreet. As long as the house gets the business it makes no difference who turns it in.” And before Arbuckle could reply Have- lock had turned and strode out the door and to the elevator. Arbuckle knew that his friend was lying when he said it made no difference, and Havelock knew it, too, as he descended in the elevator. The truth was it made all the difference in the world. For him to have to admit defeat and turn the account over to Long- street to solicit would be bad enough under normal circumstances. But with the whole office jollying him about not getting the business, though he almost slept with the president of the road, was a dozen times worse. And then there was his father’s letter. That letter kept running through his mind—‘‘The Havelock Company has been built up on aggressive and persistent salesmanship, backed up by good varnishes. The factory is still turning out good var- nishes.”” Victor Havelock, Jr., felt heartsick as the elevator creaked down the dingy elevator shaft and came to a palsied stop at the bottom. Well, there was nothing to do but admit defeat. And what a sorry story! Ceuldn’t get the business after working on it for months because he was a college chum of the purchasing agent! “Of all the booby-prize excuses that’s the worst,”” hemuttered to himself ashemounted the elevated railroad stairs. ‘‘Won’t that sound good to Mr. Carrington and dad? Whew!” But he knew when he was licked and he was ready to take his licking like a good sport. He would go right to Carrington and admit frankly just what the situation was and ask that the C. M. & B. be turned over to Longstreet and that he be given some other tough prospect—some road whose purchasing agent was not a Harvard man! He knew Carrington would roar. And he knew the rest of the office would think it a scream, all except Longstreet, who bless his soul— would understand and say nothing, for he and Longstreet were now fast friends. In fact the whole office force had come to have a warm spot in their hearts for “the Harvard cub,” though he did not realize it, because they jollied him so inces- santly and unmercifully about the C. M. & B. business. Reac hing the office, he went direct to Cc arrington’ s private room and at the lat- ter’s request sat down. “Well,” said Carrington, “‘what’s on your mind? Brought us a nice fat order from the C. M. & B? Havelock winced and colored. “No, Mr. Carrington, but I’ve come in to speak to you about that road. I ” The telephone jingled and Carrington reached for the receiver. “Yes, he’s right here. All right, wait a minute. Here, someone wants to speak with you,” and he swung the phone round. Havelock took the proffered receiver. “Hello! Yes. Oh, yes; no—do you really mean it?” Down at the C. M. & B. offices Arbuckle was talking in a private booth. “Listen, Vie, I’ve thought of a stunt that might work and save your face. Why don’t you go right to the president your- self and solicit the C. M. & B. varnish busi- ness. I’m perfectig willing to have you go over my head. You could say that owing to the rule that you know exists in the pur- chasing department that no orders must be placed on a friendship basis you naturally didn’t want to embarrass me by soliciting our varnish business. You could give the chief your selling talk, and then if he refers you to me, why of course I can give you an order. See? Yes, it’s worth trying. Ail right; good.” ‘As I was saying, Mr. Carrington,” said Havelock, hanging up the receiver and doing some quick thinking, “I want to speak to you about the C. M. & B. In case we should get a big order—say twenty bar- rels could we give them any extra dis- count?” “Absolutely not, Victor! discounts; we sell varnish. list.” “All right,” said Havelock. “I'll do my best. I’m hoping,” he added, not because he wanted to but because something more We don’t sell Stick to the seemed to be called for, “to land a good order from them soon.” “Fine!” said Carrington with genuine enthusiasm, for he really did want to see the boy make good. And a dozen times since reading the pink-sheet carbon of the senior Havelock’s vitriolic letter to his son he had been sorry he ever gave him the ’. M. & B. assignment. But the next afternoon when he left the president’s office Havelock keenly regretted having allowed himself to talk so foolishly about an order from the C. M. & B., for his interview with the president had not been exactly satisfactory. At first it had looked like the plan might work out beautifully. He would call at Mr. Hayden’s office in a perfectly businesslike way just as any stranger might. Hayden was the type of man who would resent being solicited on the golf links or at his home or the club. He liked young Havelock, whom he had met through Arbuckle, because he was intelligent and interesting and had a droll sense of humor— was good company, in short. And his sons and daughters liked Victor so much that no house party or cruise seemed complete to them without the young varnish salesman. But never had Havelock taken advantage of this friendship to press his business. However, now that Arbuckle had sug- gested that he go right to the president and explain the delicacy of the situation and solicit the business in a perfectly business- like way, why it seemed as though it ought to smooth out easily. But it did not. The first part was all right; the president re- ceived him, listened to his story, examined his varnished panels and watched him make his demonstrations. “All very interesting, Havelock, very in- teresting indeed,”’ said the president; “* but you probably realize that changing var- nishes is a serious matter. Eleven years ago our paint-shop force struck when we changed varnishes and it took nearly six months to get the affair straightened out.” Of course Havelock couldn’t pipe up and tell the president that Arbuckle had taken care of the human-nature side of the prob- fom and had got the men to a point where they would not resent a change. He did not feel free to drag Arbuckle into the solicita- tion at all. His friendship with the president, which with most men would have been a great help, was a very serious handicap, he found, as he sat looking across the broad glass- covered table at that gentleman, an ag- gressive type with gray hair and a pair of keen eyes, one of which seemed to say, “Business is business,” and the other, ‘‘ Be brief.’ Havelock said as much as he dared about the probable ease of switching to his var- nish and then he felt that he must rest his case. “Well,” the president had finally said, “just leave these panels with me and I'll eall Mr. Arbuckle in and talk the matter over with him— very soon.” “Suppose I drop in on you in a week or two, Mr. Hayden, and see how matters stand?” “No,” said the president, “T’ll write you when I’m ready.” Knowing as does every salesman— that a prospect’s ‘‘very soon’? may mean any time from fifteen minutes to fifteen years, with the odds about 93 to 7 on the fif- teen years, Havelock felt anything but happy as he descended in the squeaky little elevator. Yet knowing the president as well as he did, he dared not press the point. “Very soon!” he muttered. to be very soon.” **Wha’s ’at, Mistah Hav’lock?” asked old Darky Dan, the elevator man, remov- ing the omnipresent quill toothpick from the corner of his mouth. Havelock started and then laughed. “Was I talking out loud, Dan?” he asked. “Yes, suh, you shuh was. You-all must hab fell in lub or else you’s got money in de bank.” There was no enthusiasm in the “Ha! ha!” with which Havelock responded. The affair was getting on his nerves. He knew in his prophetic soul that it would be months before he would hear a word from the presi- dent. And meanwhile the folks at the Conctuded on Page 133 “Tt’ll have

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST 131 “on the smaller jobs too!” HE big engineers and contractors who plan, direct and execute great mountains, the severing of continents, the damming of great rivers—all recognize the dependability of ‘* American ’”’ Hoisting Equipment. ‘‘American”’ equip ment has made up the bulk of the hoisting plant on every big job since 1882. And on the smaller jobs, too, throughout the length and breadth of the land, you'll find users instilled with that same confidence in ‘‘ American’’ Hoists and Der ricks. That confidence was not born of chance per formance—it is based on over 37 years of ‘‘ making good’’—37 years of dependable service—of meeting every lifting task surely, safely and quickly. Saint Paul Locomotive Crane Railroad Ditcher Logging Equipment Hoisting Engines Electric Hoists Derricks operations—the moving of This confidence and trust in ‘‘American’’ Hoisting Equipment among the thousands of engineers, con tractors and other users throughout the country are responsible the name * American”’ on the hoisting equipment on jobs both large and small. for the frequency with which you see For there is an ‘‘American’’ to meet all lifting re quirements. And each, by its daily performance, more deeply intrenches the name it carries ‘*American’’—in the good opinion of the engineering and contracting fraternity. Nuit No matter where you are, an ‘‘American’’ repre- sentative can reach you in 24 hours. American Hoist & Derrick Co. Minnesota Builder AMERICAN” Sugar Cane Handling Machinery Marine Deck Machinery and Tackle The Genuine ‘‘CROSBY”’ Wire Rope Clip AN y AN pied! y | MUNN 2. AME N ys may RICAN | W , ~~

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132 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST November 29,1919

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Ue WA = ‘| = | = iH | = | = | ES a | I | = | = iI | = | iE eos iH! II | | = | = | | =I! ] =I | || | | =| | = a i} | | = {|| | =| Aenea 3 9 | EO gees eo eee =| | Se = | y apace — — = 4; ° = | | How the Experience of Years = | | M in thi E | | Saves Money in this Post-War Maxwell = Hi HE run of 300,000 Maxwells 6. They taught how to get the most 2 | to date saves you many a mileage out of a gallon of gasoline, a |} | : <4 pint of oil and a set of tires. = worth-while dollar in the new _— : — Post-War Maxwell. Those 300,000 nd deselebenptegehenrs = ; the less skilled driver would find simple F—3 | saved in many ways: to operate and take care of. | 1. They taught ‘‘short cuts” in manu- More miles per gallon |=8. They taught that it was better to =] | facturing. More miles om tires’ build more and take less profit per car | ==) 2. They eliminated all experimental work rather than build less and take more profit | | | you don’t have to pay for a single engineer- per car. | 4 | } ing mistake. 9. They taught how to put more and more value 4 | 1 | 3. They developed quantity production which in the car without increasing its cost. =| | has reduced “overhead.” : | ee Tne This Post-War Maxwell is next year’s =a | | 4. They enabled quantity purchases; and better rn Se contains Gestuses Gavel 8 dur. = : | materials are bought at lower costs. — ee ee —— sa _ we — i ; ing the war, many of which will find their — | 5. They taught how to build an almost trouble- “ ; -— | proof car; you seldom take a Post-War Max way into other cars in the summer of = : well to a repair shop. 1920. — Price $985 f.0. b. Detroit = MAXWELL MOTOR COMPANY, INC., DETROIT, MICH. - = . MAXWELL MOTOR CO. OF CANADA, LIMITED, WINDSOR, ONT. Y = \__ — —<———— a — - __f = =|] STUMUUERLULANUUAUUUUAEUAU AAA UUOUAAUUAAUAAEUUAU i AUUULAOUUAHEUAUAAASAUAAOA EU AAOUAAAATU DTA

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Concluded from Page 130 office would continue their irritating ban- tering. Why in the name of all that was volatile in varnish had he had to have the bad luck to go to Harvard with the pur- chasing agent of the C. M. & B.? qr N JUSTICE to President Hayden it must be said that while the elevator was carry- ing Victor Havelock, Jr., down that after- noon he had madea note on hismemorandum sheet for the next morning, ‘Talk varnish with Arbuc kle But it so happened that at four o’clock that afternoon it had been necessary for him to leave for the West for an emergency conference in connection with some labor troubles, and it was sey- eral days before he returned. Meanwhile the memorandum slip had been lost and the subject of varnish had slipped the presi- dent’s mind. Weeks went by and Victor Havelock, Jr waited, some weeks patiently and others decidedly impatiently, depending a good deal on how much jollying he got at the office about getting an order from the C. M. & B. What could he do? His hands were tied. He dared not go to see the president after what he had said; and Arbuckle, who was all sympathy for him, dared not bring up the subject lest it like collusion. Finally one morning Havelock found in his mail another long w vhite envelope. Tear- ing it open he found a carbon copy of the letter his father had previously written him. A the top in his father’s bold scrawl were two words: “I repeat.’”? And there was a bold line drawn under the last sentence, ‘The factory is still turning out good varnishes.” That was all, but it made Victor, Jr., flush to the roots of his hair. He put on his hat and left the office lest ithinking person get off another bum joke about getting an order from the look ‘TOSS some ut C. M. & B. and he should lose his temper. For half an hour he rambled aimlessly, his father’s challenge rankling his soul, “until he found himself in an unfamiliar section of the city. He simply must get an order from the C. M. & B. or throw up his job right away and admit that he couldn’t hold down a with the Havelock Varnish Company. He looked round him in desperation as though searching for an inspiration. Across the street was a row of little shops—a bake shop, a pawn shop, a delicatessen and an establishment whens sign ; announced, * *Cos- tumes Made, Sold and Rented.”” Havelock smiled in ihe of himself at the thought of finding inspiration in that strange spot. A he turned to make his way to the nearest L station his eye fell on a white wig with a long flowing beard in the window of the costume shop. Hanging with it was a tat tered suit and leaning in the corner was a rusty old musket. “Rip Van Winkle—that’s me,” said Havelock. ‘It'll take me twenty years to sell a bill of varnish to the C. M. & B.,”’ he chided himself as he walked off down the block. As he neared ood corner he stopp d suddenly. Over his face came an odd smile that flickered uncertainly for a moment and then crystallized into a devilish twinkle in his eyes. ‘Why not?” he sport I win; if he I don’t. So here He crossed the street and entered the costumer’s shop. A little old Hebrew wear- ing a black skulleap and a pair of large gold-rimmed spectacles came ambling out of a back answer to the summons of the bell which jangled when the door ope ned. “What asked. “You can rent me that Rip Van Winkle get-up there in the window for about two hours.” ‘Fife job “Tf he’s a but I lose if demanded. isn’t I lose, , goes. room in can I do for you, mister?” he said the Hebrew. dollar » , THE SATURDAY “All right, fife dollars it is,” Have lock, ‘‘but hurry up.” Six minutes later Victor Havelock, Jr., left the old Hebrew’s shop with a bundle and a rusty musket. Less than half an hour and a South-Side hack drew up in front of a Loop office build- ing on the top floor of which was the studio of one of Chicago’s best photographers. An hour and fifteen minutes later the same hack drew up in front of the little South-Side costume shop and Victor Have- lock, Jr., alighted and entered, returning the rusty musket and the bundle. All this happened on Wednesday morn- ing. On Friday morning President Hayden of the C.M.&B.R. R. found upon his desk a flat package marked “ Personal.”” Taking out his gol { poe ket knife he cut the string and unwrapped the package. Between two pieces of corruga ted cardboard was some- thing flat wrapped in tissue. He tore off the

tissue rather curiously and opened a folder and beheld a striking ful : ngth picture of Rip Van Winkle. In one hand he grasped other he was hold sort of an order his rusty musket; in the ing what looked like some blank, Bewildered, the president glanced sharply at the face half hidden in the heavy white whiskers. Where had he those eye before? As he turned the picture to get a better light on it a card dropped out. He stooped and picked it up. There was writ- ing on it: **A picture ceiving his first order for varn C. M. & B. R. R.” For just a minute that hu business, be-b wrief expression came seen of Victor H: — Ir., re | from the iness-is- into the president’s eyes. Then he threw back his head and roared, laughed until the clerks in the general passenger agent's office next the president’s wondered what had hap pened to the road’s ordinarily austere president. When the roar had subsided to a chuckle the president turned to his be- wil Ide Te 78 | secret: ary. ‘Ask Mr. Arbuckle to please, Bentley.” step downstairs, iv R. ARBUCKLE of the C. M. & B wants you tocallon him right away,” said the switchboard operator to Victor Havelock, Jr., that Friday morning when he entered the office at eleven o'clock. At the moment Mr. Carrington happened to be in the outer office. ‘Better hurry over, Vic. Maybe he’s got a ten-barrel order for you,” he said, grit ning Havelock was too excited to make re pl He hurried out, sped down the corridor and stood impatiently with his thumb glued to the elevator button. Fifteen minutes later he almost literally 7. led out of a taxi in front of the C. M. . general off ; handed the bewilde re auffeur a dollar bill and a “‘keep the change,” and hurried into the dingy little elevator. CES

‘Hurry up, Dan! »an important date with Mr. Arbuck e blurted. As the little car sq up the four stories Havelock realiz it he was tren bling foolishly. He realized also that in the next five minutes his whole future would probably be decided. If he had won out if the president had fallen for his stunt solicitation— he knew he would stick with his father’s company and some day prob ably occupy his father’s position as pre dent. On the other hand, if he had lost he would have to throw up start out looking for a new would be Two minutes later he buckle, “Mr. Van Winkle the sponge

intole rie stood before Ar- , I believe?” said Ar- buckle with a twinkle in | eyes ‘Well, Mr. Van Winkle ve have a little arnisl order for you.” He held out a yellow pu chase order. Havel chair. sank into a looked at it and

EVENING POST ‘Arbuckle, old sport,’”’ he finally man aged to say, “Mr. Van Winkle thanks you and your president and the whole C. M. & B. Railroad from the bottom of his heart.” Then, a sudden idea striking him: ‘Say, will you do me a favor and give me another orde -! for just two more gallons—a gallon of rubbing and a gallon of finishing? I’ll tell you wi y later. ‘I want to hurry the office before to lunch.” Arbuckle assistant to make now and get back to Mr. Carrington goes out good-naturedly instructed his out the desired order, signed it and handed it over. Havelock grasped his hand in a hearty thank and ‘bolted out the door. you squeeze Just eighteen minutes later he walked into Carrington’s private office ‘Well, did you get your order?” asked Carrington. “T did,” rep llow C, M yton lied Havelock, handing him & B. purchase order blank. Carrit looked at it and burst out a hell of an order!” he replied. “Tw » meas sly gallons “a Ri illon of finishing anda gallon of rubbing! That’s a good one! Oh, ho, ho, ho! Gordon! Come in here and see the order our president’s son has pulled out of the C. M. & B.” WS ll,"” demanded Havelock as Gordon Williams appeared in the doorway, ‘“‘what doy you fellows expect? Don’t you suppose a railroad has to give a new varnish a try- out before it buys it by the barrel?” Williams looked at the two-gallon order and then at Carrington and they both burst into roars of laughter. **Two measly gallons “‘Two measly gallons!’ tor When both men’s faces were with tears over the C. M. & B. order, for which he had been working for months, Havelock quietly drew the other purchase !”’ gasped Williams. * echoed Carring- streaming

order blank from his pocket. ‘But Arbuckle said he felt so sure the sample would be right that he gave me a this order.” And he handed out the other order Both men gasped. Fifty barrels of rub- | bing varnish and fifty barrels of finishing varnish! On later low ing letter dent’s private the following Friday—just a week the morning mail contained the fol- to Carrington on the presi- stationery:

Wy dear! yton Things are shaping up in such a way that I believe it will be advisable to take my son into the home office as secretary of the com pany I have long had this in mind, but I hav considered it proper that he should first prove his ability to make good for the com pany on his own responsibility out among strangers. I believe you will agree . ith me that he has demonstrated that he has the sort of qualities that will make him valuable to the busine I will a him come E iently clean up su pe rsonal attention to close, yu therefore to as soon as he arrange to let can conven require his

ch matters as

Very truly yours, VicToR HAVELOCK, President “*Now what do you think of that?” sput tere dC arringto n, walking into Gordon Wil liams * office ind to ing the letter down ir front of him, “Isn't that just like Boston?” he de manded as Williams finished reading the lett llooked up. “‘When we get a good thing they always have to come along and grab it away from us!”

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tir be sore!”

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134 THE SATURDAY ' 2 21m >! BERWICK — GORDON — fin, IRR ~fprmfitA ny ; “y ( O ‘aS f R S FOLLOW THE ARROW AND YOU FOLLOW THE STYLE CLUETT, PEABODY & CO., Inc., Makers Troy, New York « » Hands Warm Put a pair of SteerWarms on your car this winter and you'll drive in comfort and safety on the coldest days. Drive with light gloves—your fingers will be as cozy as they would be in your overcoat pocket. The Electric Hand Warmer That Is Guaranteed Steer Warms are easy to put on the wheel, are simply made and will last for years. Join the thousands of motorists who are using them and drive your car comfortably on any winter day. Your accessory dealer should be able to supply you, but if he hasn't Steer Warms we will ship direct, prepaid, upon receipt of price. For All Gasoline Cars $7.50 Special Type for Fords 5.00 Prices: (No Advance same as always) Interstate Electric Co. Dept. 136 New Orleans, U.S. A. EVENING POST November 29,1919 ATHLETICS FOR COLD CASH (Continued from Page 23) I might win in the classrooms of the medical school. To that extent I was confidently and unblushingly expecting to draw divi- dends on my physical prowess. On the day I arrived in Philadelphia I had only twenty dollars in my pocket, and I was fully aware that to get through the medical department of the university would require an expenditure of at least one thou- sand dollars yearly. The discrepancy be- tween my resources and my needs did not cause me any worry, however. Had I not begun my career at DePauw under equally discouraging circumstances? The ease with which I had financed myself through my academic course made me confident that I should have no difficulty in working my way through the medical school. In a big city like Philadelphia there must be lots of lucrative jobs for a chap with a good busi- ness head, a bachelor-of-science degree and a pair of strong arms, even if no et tunities were to be found in the college itself. I paid my registration fee and made an arrangement with the school authorities whereby I was to pay my laboratory and tuition fees in easy installments. When I explained the situation to them they were sympathetic and promised to help me in finding employment. It was the very next day that I was ap- proached by a little stockily built man, who introduced himself as the manager of the football team of a Pittsburgh athletic club. He had seen my work on the DePauw eleven and had heard of my performances in the weight contests at Chicago. Coming presently to the point, he offered me two hundred dollars a week and expenses to go to Pittsburgh and play guard on his team for seven weeks. Those were the days when games be- tween first-class professional football teams drew big crowds and earned enormous sums for their promoters. I knew that the players received big salaries, but I was some- what staggered by the financial induce- ment he offered me. Nevertheless, I indignantly turned down his offer. “T play professional football!’”’ I ex- claimed. “Say! You've got a nerve to make such a proposition to me!” “Think it over, young fellow! Think it over!” he rejoined imperturbably. ‘ Four- teen hundred dollars for seven weeks’ fun ain't to be sneezed at. You don’t have to decide offhand. I can keep the place open for a week. Here’s my card. In case you | should change your mind you can wire me, collect.” I had no intention of changing my mind, but I put his card in my pocket. A few days later football practice began at the university and I went out with the scrub team and helped beat the varsity eleven. After that game the coach picked me out and had quite a talk with me. His words and manner caused little thrills of joyous anticipation to shoot through me. When he left me I knew that my gridiron future at Pennsy was assured, That is to say, thought I knew. It wasn’t long afterward when my hopes were nipped in the bud by the verdict of the athletics committee pro- nouncing my doom, In the midst of my despair my hand sude denly came in contact with the card of that Pittsburgh football manager, and after staring at the bit of pasteboard for a while I began to do some deep thinking. That afternoon I went to the dean of the medical sé hool. “I want a seven weeks’ leave of absence,’ I told him. “I have a chance to go to Pittsburgh and make some big money— enough to pay my year’s expenses and leave a comfortable balance besides.’ He looked at me sharply. “How do you expect to make all that in seven weeks?” he asked. And when I ex- plained a shocked expression came to his features. He was a noted amateur athlete himself and had quite a wide reputation as a boxer. “Professional football!’’ he exclaimed deprecatingly. ‘Are you sure that you want to do it?” I assured him that I had fully made up my mind. I had thought it all out and | had come to the conclusion that the view- point that in athletics the words “amateur” and “gentleman”’ were synonymous was all wrong. “If I lead a clean moral life and always | play the game squarely and honorably shall I be any the less a gentleman because I use my muscular strength on the football field as a means of paying my way through school?” I argued. He shrugged his shoulders. “‘What about your class work?” he asked. “I'll make it up when I come back. If you'll grant me the leave of absence I'll guarantee that I won’t be behind in my studies at the end of the term.” Though it was obvious from his demeanor that he thought I was making a grievous mistake, he gave his assent. I telegraphed immediately to the Pittsburgh man, asking whether his offer was still open, and re- ceived a prompt response ordering me to come on at once and report for practice. Until I went to Pittsburgh I fancied that I had played some strenuous football dur- ing my four years on the DePauw eleven. Our annual game with Purdue had always been characterized by the local press as pretty near the limit of organized physical violence. But long before my first season as a professional was over I had come to regard those contests of my old school days as only a shade more boisterous than tid- dledywinks. My new team mates and the men we opposed on the gridiron were the huskiest, stubbornest, most aggressive bunch of veterans that I had ever seen in action, and the fact that they were being paid for their services certainly did not de- tract from the enthusiasm with which they bucked the line. Without prejudice I ven- ture to say that our eleven and any one of the professional teams that were pitted against us could have romped through the best varsity formation Yale or Harvard has ever produced. When I returned to Philadelphia at the end of the seven weeks I brought back with me three broken spareribs, a split lip and a check for fourteen hundred dollars signed by the president of the club. I took the check to a local bank and opened an ac- count. Then I wrote my own check for five hundred dollars to the order of the uni- versity in payment of my tuition fee, lab- oratory fees, and so on, and also made out six more checks for smaller amounts to defray the cost of my board, lodging, books and various other items. They were the first checks I had ever signed, and the pride and satisfaction I derived from these transactions went a long way toward recon- ciling me to the fact that I was never to wear the varsity letter. I was still feeling pretty good when a couple of days later I received word that I was wanted in the dean’s office. I went there confidently enough. I recall that there was an idea in my mind that the head of the medical department might want to have a chat with me about my football ex- periences in Pittsburgh. But as soon as I saw his face I sensed that something was wrong. Without any preliminaries he picked up a slip of pink paper from his desk. “T believe this is your handwriting?” he said grimly. It was the check for five hundred dollars I had drawn to the order of the university. “Of courseit’smine,”’ Lrejoined. ‘‘ What's the matter with it?” “Nothing much. Only the bank informs me that it is no good,”’ was his sardonic response, “I thought that perhaps you might feel as though you would like to offer an explanation.” I found out later that the fourteen- hundred-dollar check I had received for my services on the Pittsburgh football team wasn’t worth more than the paper on which it was written. The man whose signature it bore had overdrawn his account and the club itself was about to go into the hands of a receiver. Not only did I fail to make any money out of my first venture into pro- fessional athletics but I was indebted to-the amount of $13.80 for protest fees on the checks I had drawn, I could feel my hair turning gray as I re- flected on the painful position I was in. I was penniless, in debt and seven weeks behind in my studies. At that bitter mo- ment I would have been perfectly willing to head a movement to insure the purity of American athletics by wiping out pro- fessionalism. Through a friend I learned of a man who was looking for massage treatment. I went to see him and managed to convince him that I was the chap who had put the word (Continued on Page 137

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\ 4 \ fi! f(— wwh)Pry | ao?) (fh } i iy ll # ) y | ! /} WH ) wy j HI Hh } hj / | “Lu RAN y} | tC Y ( F J NH 4 wes Wc H{( 4 Tf ¢ CV f? , \)\ -™ Le Sy, DAY) LOY4V01-4 YN & ala’ = } 2 JAC Ley ai LYNG YY YH WA YY Wl Qe > LY GF ™ ly (= THE SATURDAY EVENING POST s/h % ‘ 4 HE Templar Sportette is a newly added ultrafine model 4 of an already Superfine Car. <r A yy ' —s IY Built for four passengers—it is the personification of style, luxury and comfort. The body is aluminum, over- upholstered in smooth black leather. The car is low hung, powerful and fast, and surprisingly economical. The Templar Motors Corporation 2000 Halstead Street, Lakewood Cleveland, Ohio

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136 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST November 29,1919 aN VP SW INDIFEER ERENT t to time, ete an ‘by ve . ips Yes haste, he cuts into his dies the eee ena hE Sf 4 Ne) correctness that gives shape to Triangle Be yy Sed Eee) B Forging, Tool or Machine. He is the} ny ERO embodiment of the New England conscience. Pe.-* beet -a In the BILLINGS & SPENCER plant at Hartford he pce -@¥iand his fellow craftsmen carry on the ideals iq : *'g which first earned for us the confidence OTB 4. Abraham Lincoln. é

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(Continued from Page 134 “massage”’ in the dictionary. He engaged me for six treatments a week at two dollars per treatment, and existence began to look little less stale and unprofitable. Then I went over to the Houston Club and found a dozen young men who were willing to let me give them boxing and wrestling lessons at one dollar a lesson. That, of course, helped considerably in the solution of my yroblem. Inthe meantime I began to cram furiously in a desperate attempt to catch up with the work of my class. For the rest of that term I never had more than three hours’ sleep day. I was at my books until two at night and I was up again at five each morn- ing. It was a hard grind, but I had the satisfaction of keeping my promise to the dean by getting through the examinations with a safe margin. After college closed in the spring I went out to Woodside Park, a big summer- amusement resort, and landed a job on the guard force. I got that position on the strength of my reputation as a football player, and when the manager learned that | was also a medical student he offered to let me double by doing duty on the first-aid corps. This combination brought me fifty dollars a week, and as the job lasted right up to the time school opened again I was able to save nearly five hundred dollars. With this sum and what the boxing and wrestling lessons and the massage treat- ment brought me I not only succeeded in paying all my debts by the end of the first vear but had enough left over to cover half of the expenses of my second year at college I must admit that I could probably have made my way through the medical school without playing any more professional foot- ball, and considering the discouraging ex- verience | had met with on my first venture I branch of sport it might be sup- posed that I should have been unwilling to have anything more to do with it, or at all events that I should have balked at signing up with another Pittsburgh organization. When in the fall of my second year at Penn- sylvania, however, I received an offer from the Duquesne Country and Athletic Club of Pittsburgh to play guard on their crack eleven for two hundred and fifty dollars a week I hesitated only long enough to assure myself of the financial soundness of the lub and its willingness to pay me in cash at the end of each week. I went again to the dean and asked for another leave of absence. I pointed out to him that I had already crossed the athletic Rubicor The brand of professionalism for the remainder of my days and even after I left college I could never hope to enter the field of amateur sport. Cherefore, I argued, I might as well turn my physical strength and skill into money. When I began to practice medicine I was likely to have a hard struggle for the first few years and if I could accumulate a few thousand dollars as a reserve fund it would undoubtedly be a big help. He agreed with me, regarding me now, I suppose, as beyond redemption, and not only that year but for the remainder of my college course I played professional football for the entire season, burning the well known midnight oil in order to keep up with my class work. At the end of my second year at the medical school I had two thou- sand dollars in the bank and no bills out- standing against me On the Duquesne eleven I managed to make quite a reputation for myself and the next season I received offers from several other ¢ lubs. I signed with the Philadelphia Ball Club ata salary of three hundred dol- lars a week—and it was real money. The following year I joined the famous Franklin City All-Star team at the same figure and received an additional five hundred dollars as a bonus when we won the tournament for the professional championship of Amer- ica at Madison Square Garden, New York City All together I not only made enough out of athletics while at colle; ge to cover all my expenses, but when I was graduated I had a bank balance of nine thousand five hundred dollars From a financial standpoint at least it will be admitted that professionalism cer- tainly had not been a bad thing for me. And that my medical oheemion had not suffered from my work on the gridiron became evident when I took my degree. The school records of that year will show that I was awarded the Saunders prize of one hundred dollars spo 1 for proficiency in one branch of surgery and that my average THE SATURDAY rating at the final examinations was ninety two per cent. What had I lost? Those carpers for purity in American athletics who look upon the professional as little less than a thug will hold that my moral and ethical standards ge have been bl f nted— if not irretrievably shattered—by my long asso ciation with the mercen of sport, that a fellow cannot go through the mire without getting some of it on him. Let me tell you, however, that my associates in those pro fessional organizat as fine a lot of fellows as I could have wished to meet. “Treat ’em rough” was their slogan when they went into action, and they behaved like Apaches while they were bucking the line. But when they had removed their nose guards nobody would have suspected from their conversation an d manners that they were tainted with professionalism. I have known college elevens whose members were not one bit more entitled to the designation of ‘‘gentlemen,”’ even if they could boast that they were honest-to- goodness amateurs, As a matter of fact, many of these salaried players were college men who had worn their varsity letter in their day. Some of them—like myself had frankly gone into the game because of the big money there was in it; others had joined our ranks because they were too fond of the gridiron to give it up permanently when they were graduated and eagerly em- braced this opportunity to continue playing first-class football So far as that part of my career as a pro which was spent on the football field is con- cerned, I am quite sure that it did not de- moralize me or even have a deleterious effect on my table manners. As for my later experiences as a professional wrestler well, possibly that—as Mr. Kipling is prone to remark— may be another story. I have met champions, near-champions and would-be champions of catch-as-catch-can who were men of culture, education and integrity, but I will not deny that if after nearly fifteen years of mingling with the mercenaries of the mat I am still able to feel at home in a parlor I owe it more to the durability of the early training I received from my mother than to my more recent environment, ON THE day that I became legally en- titled to attach the letters “‘M. D.”’ to my name I supposed that I was perma nently done with professional sport Though I had learned from experience that there was big money to be made in the game, I had no desire or intention to follow a football career. After losing my amateur } ions were on the whole standing athletics had never meant more to me than a means toward an ann, nd now that I hed attained @ at end I y de termined to devote all my time and ener- gies to my chosen profession of medicine. I went out to the city of Seattle, Wash- ington, opened a bank acco the comfortable nest egg my athletic activi- ties had enabled me to set aside and hung out my shingle, I had selected that thriving seaport of the Northwest as the place to make my tart on the advice of some of my friend who convinced me that a young p! i was likely to find more opportunities in ment among the popu I had been a star on some of ional football teams of the ist, il newspapers gave me a write-up on their sporting pages, but except for the reporters my waiting room remained I for some time barren of visitor In al probability I should have starved during those first few months if it had not been f my reserve fund I had made up my mind, though, not to use up more of my savings than was abso lute ly necessary o kee pr 1¢ alive, and wher the local university offered me the post of physical director and supervisor of its foot ball and other athletics I eagerly accept« The salary was only fifteen hundred a year, but in those days that was sufficient to keep the wolf a good distance from the door, and as the faculty did not object to my continuing my private practice I considered myself very fortunate in making a connec- tion which not only relieved the strain on my bank account but added considerably to my prestige in the community. The following year I was offered the position of physic al director of the Seattle Athletic Club. This meant an additional EVENING POST 137 It’s Winter Sport, Itself —to have . Koupet Top , th be on ke - NPA an ride in your Ford —1in the 2 .* rain, wind, snow, a, -* ho a a ja o* is a frolic when vou have th protection of a Koupet Top Makes your Ford an every-di iy comfort i i Ww it? rut if l Ail ind | l rewe I te ih t t K 1) open with car windows, as or G | half-width, for ea illing. Has a " t t t The Koupet Top is a very great value ata very moder: ate price see it, at your dealer's. Pr y $55.00 for > perces delivered and Roadster, $75.00 for Fouring Ford, | 0B. installed c Jo not know write , ' Koupet Auto Top ¢ ompany, Dept. 27, Belleville, I I 1 k Whole Family Cotton inside —wool outside! Here is cotton comfort with wool warmth, in a medium weight sock. This sock is so knit that the fine soft cotton yarn is thrown inside next to the skin, while the outside is warm, smooth-knit worsted. Isn't that a \ a” ndid way to make a winter hose? Color, arichdarkoxfordgrey. Ahand- some sock incolor, texture and weight; and extra durable. If you don’t know of an Iron Clad dealer nearby, send us 75c¢ for each palr wanted (stating size and color desired; grey or black; sizes9'’2to 1142). If you prefer black, order No. 335, same price. We will forward to your address, postage pre paid Mail an order today to Cooper, Wells & Co. 212 Vine Street, St. Joseph, Mich lron Clad No. 337

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138 No one knows better than yourself what your Organization stands for. Make sure that your Emblem Ring embodies character and ideals. An O-B Emblem Ring is correct, authentic, gold of plump quality—emblem not soldered but pegged on. “Wherever good jewelry is sold” Og t by of B arton Co. Providence RLUSA. \KE MON NTO Bates best of Style features, leathers in good whose trade brands identify kind the Bat and the your town. tgghest C dc each tbe Shox kind of workmanship that makes Massachusetts lead 3 go the the season's she re making s Dealer in highest quality, A J. General Offices, W ebet SHOES ales a OD SHOE INCE 1 a THE SATURDAY EVENING POST fifteen hundred a year and would not con- flict with my work at the university, so I did not refuse. I resigned both jobs, though, a couple of years later, when my private practice had picked up to such an extent that I felt I could afford to devote all my attention to it. I was still loyal to my chosen profession of medicine, and at that time nothing was further from my thoughts than to permit my proficiency in sports to stand in the way of my career as a physi- cian. I say nothing was further from my thoughts at that time. Later, to be sure, when the belt of the world’s wrestling championship was dangled seductively be- fore my eyes and whispers of fame and fortune to be won on the mat tempted me to forget my vows to sculapius—but that is jumping several paragraphs ahead of my story. For the next few years I gave all my time, thoughts and energy to my practice, which in spite of the health-conducing qual- ities of the Washington climate continued to grow most encouragingly. My balance at the bank increased by leaps and bounds. I made several profitable investments in local real estate and became quite a re- spected and influential member of the com- munity. Few people in those days would have had the temerity to address me as “Doc.” I was “Doctor” in full, even to my most intimate friends. And to add to my state of well-being I had won for a bride the di ~- ter of one of our most prominent itizens Then came the great financial panic of the Roosevelt Administration. I found my resources suddenly cut off. The banks were closed down. My patients began to evince an alarming tendency to ignore the please- remit epigram I appended to their monthly statements. Some of my most valuable real-estate holdings were threatened with foreclosure, When I was physical director of the Seattle Athletic Club I had given a great deal of attention to training the members in the art of wrestling. One evening while I was on the mat with one of my pupils a burly stranger had visited the clubhouse. Ile was a veteran grappler himself—a pro- fessional—and had been one of the trainers of the great Gotch. After standing by watching my work for a while this visitor suddenly began to peel off his clothes, and expressed a desire to try a bout with me. He was out of training and his features showed signs of recent dissipation, but just the same when I laughingly accepted his challenge I discovered that I had a pretty tough customer to deal with. It took me fifteen minutes and all the tricks I had in my bag to get a fall out of him, and I was on the defensive a great deal of the time. Nevertheless, when he got to his feet my opponent was enthusiastic over my victory. ‘This is the first time in my life I have ever met an amateur who could stay with me for fifteen minutes—to say nothing of throwing me!” he declared. ‘Doc, you’ve got the goods! You're as strong as Jenkins, as speedy as Gotch and as clever as Farmer Burns. If I know anything about the mat you're the cleverest man of your weight in the country to-day. Ifyou want to become a professional I'll guarantee that after six months under my training you'll be able to beat them all.” Of course I grinned at this extravagant which I attributed to a desire on his praise, part to rehabilitate himself in his own esteem, and I made it clear to him that I had no yearnings in the direction of a pro- fessional catch-as-catch-can career. But when, during the financial panic, this man came to my office one day and announced that he had a proposition to make to me I did not refuse to hear what he had to say. “There’s a club in Vancouver, British Columbia, whic ~ is looking for a good man to match ag ainst Jac k Carkeek, the British champion,” he “ an, ‘‘and I’ve picked you is the boy for the job.” I shook my head in emphatic negation. I had heard of Carkeek, of course. His name and achievements had been appear- ing on the sporting pages of the press for nearly three decades. He had come into the wrestling game from the blacksmith's forge and at one time had held the world’s championship. The defeats he had met in the course of his long career on the mat he could count on the fingers of one hand. He had the reputation of being the craftiest and most scientific wrestler in the business, and though he was now past his prime I had serious doubts as to my ability to make any sort of a showing against him. Besides November 29, 19/9 which I had no intention of lowering my dignity as a physician by going into the arena as a paid gladiator. “Come on, Doc—just this once,”’ my visitor urged when I voiced these objec- tions. ‘From what I’ve seen of your work I’m willing to bet my roll that you can not only stay with Jack for the time limit but can pin him to the pad. You've got youth and strength in your favor, and you're as clever as he is. The terms are to be, winner to take all, and it’s a chance for you to make some easy money—to say nothing of the big rep you'll make for yourself.” The prospect of adding to my reputation in the sporting world was not an argument which carried much weight with me, for I was quite sure that if I did allow myself to be persuaded to go into this thing it was going to be my first and last appearance in the arena as a professional, no matter what the outcome. But my tempter’s reference to ‘“‘easy money” did interest me. With my bank account tied up—if not wiped out entirely—by the panic, and my realty holdings in jeopardy, a chance to get hold of some ready cash looked rather good. “*How much do you suppose there would be in it for me?” I found myself asking. “Well, the Vancouver Club is willing to give sixty per cent of the gate receipts to the winner, and the event is sure to draw a whopping big crowd,” my visitor replied. *‘Speaking conservatively, Doc, I’d say that there ought to be at least three thou- sand dollars to be divided between you and me. As your manager and trainer of course we'd split the purse fifty-fifty.”’ “Fifteen hundred dollars for a few min- utes’ work!”’ he went on eloquently. “‘ You'd have to roll a powerful lot of pills, Doc, to make that amount in your business. And then, of course, there's no limit to the coin you can gather in by betting on yourself. The Carkeek fans will give odds and you ought to make a big clean-up.” I did not bet on myself. In fact, when I finally consented to sign the articles I ear- nestly advised all my friends not to wager any money on me, for notwithstanding the assurances of my manager I was not at all sanguine as to my prospects of success. It would be my first public contest against a professional, and I don’t mind admitting that I was feeling pretty nervous right up to the moment I stepped into the ring The match took place three weeks later before an audience of more than three thousand wrestling fans. When I sized up my opponent as we faced each other on the padded mat I was mighty glad that I had stolen time from my medical practice to put in several hours of hard training in the gymnasium and on the road every day of the past three weeks. He was slightly shorter than I and appeared a bit muscle- bound, but it was obvious that he was in the pink of condition, and he looked pretty formidable. His self-possessed, confident manner and the cool, appraising way in which his hawklike eyes looked me over did not add to my peace of mind. I had been warned that his strongest point was an unerring and almost uncanny ability to find his adversary’s weak spot. His meth- ods were not of the rushing, smashing style. He preferred to work his man out, locating his vulnerable point and playing patiently and pe aiahentie on it before he tried for a fall. It might take him time to discover his opponent’s pet weakness, but find it he would eventually, I was advised, if he was given a chance. I had made up my mind that in my case he wasn’t going to be given a chance. I in- tended to adopt rushing tactics from the start and to keep him so busy throughout that he wouldn't have much time ‘or a calm and leisurely study of my anatomical defects. So as soon as the gong sounded I sprang out of my corner as though I had been shot from a catapult and hurled my- self on him. In less than a minute we were both off our feet and down on our knees, struggling desperately for position. And then | managed to get behind him. There were no breathing spells in that bout, none of the long periods of inaction and fiddling that sometimes make wrestling matches so slow and uninteresting to the spectators. It was a hammer-and-tongs, rough-house match from the start to the finish, and though in that kind of fast work my youth and speed gave me all the ad- vantage, the old boy’s cleverness and game- ness enabled him to put up a rattling good fight. No sooner was I behind him than I started after foot and leg holds. I had him (Continued on Page 141)

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST Tires Without a Myster or a Secret Process O the great majority of car owners tires are still a mystery in which Auburn “ More-Rubber”’ Carcass Auburn Certified Tires have a fabric body My. secret processes and miraculous compounds are supposed to have PM wrought some phenomenon that : assures maximum mileage. Kew men know anything about tire construc- tion. Only a very few know anything at all “shoddy” exceptin the bitter school of experience. The Government requires manufacturers of food products, medicines, etc., to plainly indi cate the exact ingredients. The mystery of the product is unveiled—you know what you are buying before you pay your money. You know what you have a right to expect. There’s no law that requires tire makers to plainly state the ingredients in their tires. But that’s the basis—law or no law—upon which Auburn Certified Tires are sold. For the first time in tire history you can buy a tire with the actual ingredients openly printed and certified. You can actually judge the quality and wear possibilities of the tire yourself —before it goes on your car! * * * * * There is no “mystery” about Auburn Tires. We have no closely guarded Pure Para Rubber, endowed by Nature with qualities that no “secret process’ or mysterious “secret process. w~ . — eee — or corresponding cord construction of extreme strength, made actually 15°, to 25% thicker than standard tires (and therefore fully 50° stronger) by our extra-ply construction. We then put 179% more Rubber right down into the fabric or cord, wher it holds the | about what goes into a good tire and what goes petethes ssh eaimeanl tenacites tad ‘eh into a cheap tire. rubber, or “friction,” is 94.3°, pure Para, 1 Until now there has been no way a car owner shoddy—no substitutes—just pure Para Rub could tell the “pure rubber” tire from the ber with enough sulphur to cure Phe result is a carcass surpassing in flexibil r- qu alate ity--and “hold-togeth« Auburn “ More-Rubber”’ Tread Auburn Certified Tires are protected by a thick, tough, slow-wearing tread that is notht: but pure Para Rubber (analysis shows 81‘ pure Para) combined only with expensive oxid of zinc—the best known tread toughener No “shoddy”—no cheap, soft rubber or rubber substitutes. This thick, tenacious and —_ VT ST "a w « practically weat More Rubber— More Mileage formula can ever equal, is the only mystery about proof cushion of live rubber averag ony these “quality” tires. 1-32 inch wear per 1000 miles of ordinary service—a distance equivalent to a trip from Chicago to New York. It is one of the creat | feats in tire construction—a teat which amazed even the nationally-selected tire experts who (~ conducted the [ S. Bureau of Standards test Priced to Your Advantage Auburn Certified Tir standard, “non-extra-ply” tir Phat is, tre having only + plies of fabric wher st a little more than have Pure Para Rubber is the gold standard of where five five whe re | Auburns have Auburns hav seven, et Yet \uburns pre sent tire construction. It is to tires exactly what prices are considerably lower than most “ Extra wool is to clothing. So the value and wearing qualities of a tire can be judged by its content of Para Rubber just as truly as a suit of clothes can be appraised by its content of pure wool. As our Certified Statement of Ingredients shows, Auburn Certified Tires contain a greater volume of re P Rubber thar } her tume of pure ara ubber than any other tires of which we know. This, alone, marks them as the nearest “all-wool-and-a-yard-wide”’ tires | on the market. | i CORD ry’ oye p ? re? lo Tire Dealers: The Auburn proposition is entirely new different and modern. It offers many unique inside advantages which give you a permanent — profitable and worth-while tire business, built solidly on the good will and satisfaction of customers. Live Auburn Dealers are, in many places, today selling more Auburn Tires than all other makes and emphatically state that the proposition we give is the most desir- able in the whole tire field Certified Ply” quality tires. Ask your local dealer to show you an Auburn. Note the quality “look” “feel.” tires sold with a Certified and the fine rubber And, remember, Auburn Tires are th Statement of In gredients attached which shows you the exact percentage of Para Rubber us i The Double Fabric Tire Co. AUBURN FABRIC INDIANA UBURN TIRES

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140 a

anil

THE SATURDAY EVENING

POST

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Magneto Ignition gives greater power because the Magneto produces hotter, fatter, longer-lasting sparks at the plugs The greater the heat and the larger the spark, the more : rapidly and completely will the charge in the cylinders burn (or “explode’’). The quicker the burning, the greater the downward push on the pistons, and the greater the power developed. For maximum power and service from your engine at all times, use the Magneto—‘“‘It’s Dependable” It is a simple, independent ignition-unit. Whatever trouble may come to the starting, lighting, etc., it cannot affect the magneto and, therefore, the running of the car. Whether you own a car, truck, tractor, motorcycle, motor boat, or stationary engine, you always want easy starting and continuous, efficient running. You can get it if you use Magneto Ignition. Write for free booklet, ‘‘Why Magneto Igni tion Makes A Good Engine Better.’’ Mention make, model, year of your car, truck, et« MAGNETO MANUFACTURERS 110 West 40th Street, New York THE EISEMANN MAGNETO CORP'N SPLITDORF ELECTRICALCO Aero and Dixie Magnetos he Eisemann Magneto AMERICAN BOSCH MAGNETO CORP'’N The Bosch Magneto

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) { } Continued from Page 138 all doubled up and then all stretched out half a dozen times, but he always succeeded iY slipping out of danger Once I got a good crotch hold and lifted him above my head, but I could not down him. At an- other time I had a half nelson and arm hold on him, reinforced with a leg hold, a com- bination which I thought was surely going to finish him, but he disappointed me by slipping the leg hold, and after a futile attempt at a spin managed to twist flat. He was so fast and cool-headed and kept breaking away with such marvelous bursts } nf of strength that pretty soon he had me vheezing like the exhaust of a steam engine. Presently he stopped playing possum and, catching me napping, took the aggressive quick as a flash and succeeded in getting behind n hat brought his friends to their feet yelling madly. They felt sure that the old lion had wakened and was about to come into his own. But he wasn’t able to keep the position for more than a few second By a dexterous twist I turned him on his side and as his feet went up ped my arm between them for a crotch hold. 1 lifted him halfway from the mat and then grasped my under arm with the nand that was through the crotch. It wa a deadly grip as the arm hold made it im- possible for him to bridge and, though he struggled so gamely that I had to jump him twice with all my weight before his massive shoulders touched, I scored my first fa When I heard it announced that the official time was only eleven minutes and th rty- five seconds I could hardly believe my ears. — It seemed to me that we had been on the mat for several hour rhat first fall did not decide the match. It was a best-two-out-of-three contest. But the second bout ended in my favor le: than seven minutes after the gong sounded. e veteran’s forty ve years began to tell on him almost as soon as we had got into action again, and though he remained game right up to the last moment he was so wort out at the fast pace at which we were bat- tling that when finally I got a on him and stood him on his all over with him. A couple later the referee’s hand was or and the shouts of the spectators ig the first triumph of my career as a professional gladiator of the mat Those eighteen minutes and thirty-five seconds of wrestling brought me exactly ixteen hundred and eighteen dollars, and t ive received double that amour I y manager. y did look like ar sy way to ey, but just the same I thought agreed to split with igh with the game. My highly and trainer thought dif y, thot He became almost tearful when I insisted that I would never go on the mat again as a professional You can’t quit now, Doc!” he pro- tested. ‘“‘You can’t po ibly do it! Why, look here! Just run your > over this telegram I received to-night from Gotch’s low is willing to come “4 —r y to give you a match “4 '? lg ‘ 7 1: gasped fering cats! You don’t—you’re not gesting that I can throw the chamy 10! **T ain't sure that you couldn't do it,’ ring response. *‘ But you won't t a fall out of him this time. That later, Doe after you’ve had > more experience and t licap match We'll make i han f five hundred dollars and a nt ve per cent of the gate receipts t the big fellow can’t throw you twice I xt minute That'll mean big mone What you’ve won here to-night will be chicken feed compared to what you are g te ea ip next time.”’ ; I felt resolution weakening After a I argued with myself, a chap could retire from the game f econd cor test J we i first And when presently I le at the other twenty-five per! cent of the gate receipt was to go to the loser, so that even if I lost my five-hundred-do!] ide bet with the world’s champion I wasn’t likely to be out of pocket, I decided to take a chance. F about that a few weeks Gotch and his retinue ar- >, and my name was linked i gy headlines across the front pages of the local newspapers. We hired the opera house for the scer e of the conte t. and when the box office opened there was ich a rush for seats that the first day’ advance sales amounted to fifteen hundred THE SATURDAY EVENING POST 141 I shall not attempt to give a detalle description of that match here. It is wre tling history that the world’s premier he weight « ‘| period faile mat withir he unsucce twice, but our he wa still vair ly In i npt to score the first fall. The referee awarded me the decision and I found myself four thousand dollars richer as a result of that ty mir utes’ work. After the bout the audience called on me for a speech, and I advanced to the foot lights and announced that tt was po tively my last appearance wrestler. I had met the ch: proved my a to stand and now, I declared with al at my command, I was sa down pe rmanentiy to the practice of m beloved profession of med e and neve vive another thought to sport Tanyv kind except possibly as a me f kee gm elf in go d pt cal co tior I fancied | observed cy miles on the faces of some of the porter * tables as I across the footlights, but « reflection | concluded that | must have been mistaker surely the astute gentiemen of the pre ion to discern whe fellow r t iy t ‘ IY New York visited me at r ft the porting man [rom d my office and laid a roll of ye w-backed bills in good United States currency on m\ des} Count it, Doc,”’ he l It ou'll find ther twelve the 1 ! that wad I'm off g it to yu t! r ignature toa x mont trac Wt I asked him to elucidate, he ex 1 ‘ t he wanted n rot Fest sional football at college ely for the cold cas} I had wre tled at the Var uver Club with no other motive than to wir per cent of the gate receipt I had n ured -my strength and KIli against the ’ ar } t m T et 4 wa l i as rat h 1 for the ly \ rammed ] be s ? 7 ‘ tT i r EQ So there came ad when I « ed! office, put my shingle in stor: out into the world, ar open professional exponent of the ar a ch-can How soon that d came after n Vy spee +h to the audience at the opera house I am ashamed to tell ; I took on the small fry of the wrestling fraternity first. Their impertinent taunts gz vaded me into giving them attention. And after I had di po ed of them in short order I went after the big fellow In the course of the next fifteen vears I fought and won more than four hundrec t Esterbrook Pens hor Hard and Constant ls Over sixty years’ experience in making pe write well allt eT nt every ksterbrook A - Now Look at This Coat! War ees aie | proo \I cle ft dark dral moleskin 5) 1 he long tt fleecs heep i} ae | Len | leeve knit { If beltes four leatl t ied pocks and it's Bostwick » Ask vou! cle il rt BOSTWICK WEAR Phe line includ big riet BOSTWICK Flannel Shirts Johnson, Bostwick & Co 107 Bostwick Building Minneapolis Minn BOSTWICK WEAR

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST How much are YOUR Noon-hours worth? Of course you don’t want work for your noon-hours. Without that period of rest and relaxation, your day’s work would lack the verve and “go” which you want to put into it. would Mr. B. K. Urmston, ficing his noon-hours, recreation that pays him Neither of Pennsylvania, consider sacri- has found for them a form of $82.00 Extra in One Month When the men are gathered together after dinner, discussing affairs of national and world importance, he joins the discussions. Every issue of The Saturday Evening Post, The Ladies’ Home Journal and The Country Gentleman contains vital material on every big subject introduced, so he finds it easy to obtain subscription orders. More Money for You You, too, can make your noon-hours, or any other spare hours during the week, bring you steady profits. We need more representatives everywhere, and will pay liberal commissions and generous salaries for easy, pleasant work with permanent ever-increasing returns. Bae eneneneensnenenncceneseseseeesees CUT HERE The Curtis Publishing Company 608 Independence Square, Philadelphia, Pa. Gentlemen Of « You say they are w Name spare hours every day y. Please tell me how State Harvey Stoffiet, $100 « week The Parting ONG beforethat boyof yours IS shall finally go out to make his own way he has started to leave home mentally At this vital period, especial ly now at this glad Christmas season, you can do Your Boy nogreater kindnessthantoput into hishands The American Boy, the one all-boy magazine that supplements home and school as friendly companion and wise counsellor of more than 500,000 spirited Amer- ican boys. Without preaching, without moralizing, but through live, healthy, clean and intensely interesting sto ries, The American Boy gives boys a previous understanding of the world they can get in no other way. More than ever before The American Boy for 1920 has been planned to entertain AMERICAN Give yourself an idea of the sparkling quality of the features that will make The American Boy entertaining end helpful. No greater ponent of the joyous outdoors exists than Enos A. Mills, naturalist, lecturer and “ Father of the Rocky Mountain National Park.” Every month in 1920 he will delight The American Boy's readers Boys Who Used Their Brains" is « fascinating series about boys who have overcome handicaps and won success Inspiring and helpful to any boy Depart mentson fine, helpful hobbies Boys rarely get early in life a clear ictea of the world as it is, to help them way So The American Boy will publish articles begin to plan their that explain government and publix sffaire: that will help your boy find where his abilities lie: that clearly define the relation of his school to later life: and many others that will aid in making him strong and clean hearted as he enters manhood Prof Bran ler Matthews of Co lumbia, says Bo and develop your boy. THIS Christmas gift is the QUICKEST to buy, EASIEST to send, SUREST to please, CHEAPEST inthelongrun. Repeatsitselfevery month. ‘The Biggest. Brightest, Best Magazine for Boys in All the World"’ fiction tends to inculcate independence and self-reliance. It shows the value of character as well as cleverness. It would help a healthy boy become a healthy man Tear off the coupon; solve the Christmas problem now for your boy —and others. $2 for a whole year, 20c a copy on news-stands THE SPRAGUE PUBLISHING CO. No. 121 American Bidg., Detroit, Mich he American Boy's THE SPRAGUE PUBLISHING CO. Ti you want a Chris No. 121 American Bldg, (),2'\,7.1' "frees te Detroit, Mich. this square Her th find $2.00, for which send THE AMERICAN rone year, beginning wi Dece er, 1919, sae ‘ ’ mel ’ 4 na | astride the prostrate forms of Turkish Ter- rors, Russian Bear-cats, Greek Lions, French Goliaths, Unbeatable Bulgarians, and various other distinguished foreign gentlemen with bulging biceps and unpro- nounceable patronymics who visited our hospitable shores to demonstrate their more or less invincibility, and I nipped in the bud the ambitions of countless native aspirants to the championship title. I was never able, though, to realize my own ambition to pin the powerful shoulders | of Gotch to the pad. I made three desper- | ate attempts to wrest the title from him, but each time I succumbed to the torture of his famous and deadly toe hold. He, however, was the only man in the game whom I was compelled to acknowledge as my master while I was in my prime, and after his retirement I stood at the very head of my new profession. It was a profitable business from the money standpoint. Out of my second match with Gotch, though I received only the loser’s end, I realized seventeen thou- sand five hundred dollars. There were few first-class bouts I took part in which did not bring me from five to ten thousand dol- lars, and even when I appeared in the arena against the second-raters I rarely failed to clean up at least a couple of thou- sand from the side bets and gate money. Then in addition to the revenue I de- rived from my own matches there were other ways of making money. My prestige in the sporting world and my knowledge and experience brought me some lucrative opportunities. Out of the famous match between Gotch and Hackenschmidt, for in- stance, I made twenty-three thousand dollars. No, I didn’t get it by betting on the event—at least not by betting in the ordinary way. Another fellow and I pro- iets that match, and after doing some irewd figuring we guaranteed the princi- —s and the club a certain flat sum with the understanding that we were to have all that was taken in above that amount. The gate receipts proved to be far beyond our fondest expectations and there was a sur- plus of forty-six thousand dollars to be split between my partner and me. During the latter part of my career I have also received some pretty substantial fees for training and advising other noted wrestlers, and even the sums I have earned by refereeing some of the international tournaments have not been insignificant. Altogether it is safe to say that I have made at least a quarter of a million dollars out of the gentle art of catch-as-catch-can and that is a very conservative estimate. As the man who first persuaded me to become a professional grappler remarked, I would have had to “roll a powerful lot of pills” to accumulate that same amount within fifteen years if I had stuck to my medical practice on the Pacific Coast. m \ THEN the news that I had definitely forsaken the profession of medicine for a career on the mat first began to circu- late throughout the country I received scores of letters from indignant brother physicians whom I had never met, or even heard of, condemning me for my course and telling me in plain unvarnished terms that I ought to be ashamed of myself. Several college professors, too, took the trouble to write to me pathetically and imploringly about the indiscretion of leaving a no- ble profession even temporarily to follow “the disgraceful career of a professional athlete.” These criticisms sort of got under my skin at first. I was not willing to concede and even to this day, with a long and plen- tiful experience back of me, I am prepared to deny emphatically that there is any- thing disgraceful per se about being a pro- fessional athlete. But it is a fact that before [ had been very long at the wrestling game I began to realize that there were November 29,1919 certain disagreeable and sordid features associated with my new environment that I had not wholly foreseen when I took the plunge. I was inclined to wince, for instance, when the writers of the press began to culti- vate the habit of affectionately referring to me in their literary masterpieces as ‘‘The Seattle Saw-bones,” ‘‘The Battling Bone- setter,” or ‘The Grappling. Medico.” I soon got accustomed and calloused to this change in my condition, however. Un- fortunately there were other phases of t! wrestling business to which it was not so easy to become reconciled. Wrestling is the finest sport there is when it is clean. It is a regrettable fact that the game as it is practiced by some of its toner Se vane devotees is not always clean. And it is a circumstance still more to be deplored that there are a good many people who have been led to believe that it is never clean—that every professional wrestler must be a crook and that every big match is a fixed affair. I ran up against this prejudice right at the start and I have writhed under it more or less ever since I have been in the business. On the whole the sporting editors and the fans have, perhaps, been more generous to me than to some of my probably equally deserving brethren. I have been lucky enough to win the reputation of always playing the game squarely, and have been pointed to as one of the exceptions that prove the rule. But just the same there have been whispers and sneers. When I went up against Gotch for the first time, for example, there were those who insinuated that there was a secret understanding—that the champion had purposely failed to throw me within the time limit with the idea of boosting the gate receipts of a second match between us. And there have been many other occasions when I have been made to suffer from equally unjust insinuations. Even though one has a clear conscience, experi- ences of that sort are apt to make a fellow realize that there is a disagreeable side to the life of a pro. There are crooks and fakes in the mat game, of course. I have seen too much of the seamy side of the business to try to claim that every match has been strictly on the level. But I do contend that it does not by any means deserve the bad name it has been given and that the whole wres- tling fraternity ought not to be looked on with suspicion just because of the few black sheep that are to be found among them. As for the social side of catch-as-catch- can—well, I'll admit that I haven’t found the atmosphere of the business particularly elevating. As I remarked earlier in this article, | have met and known professional grapplers who were thorough gentlemen to use that somewhat overworked word in its general and not in its athletic sense. But taking my recent associates by and large, I don’t believe that if I had a son I would send him among them to acquire an education in manners and deportme nt Still I can’t quite agree with my censori- ous correspondents of the medical profes- sion that I ought to feel ashamed of myself for having temporarily forsaken A®scula pius for the padded mat. Suppose I had laid aside my surgeon’s scalpel to go out to Alaska to dig for gold. Suppose after the lapse of fifteen years I had come back from the mines with a quarter of a million dol- lars in precious dust. Should I have been condemned because I had chosen to mingle with men of rough manners and had been obliged to come in contact with a certain amount of dirt in order to acquire that treasure? Is that a logical argument, I wonder, or can it be true after all, as some of my wife’s relatives seem to apprehend, that my long pursuit of athletics for the cold cash has dulled my sense of ethical values?

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144 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST November 29, 1919

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THE SATURDAY THE CROSS PULL (Continued from Page 36 The scent round the cabin had carried his mind back to the night at Two Ocean Pass. This in turn wakened a host of half- forgotten memories of the Land of Many Rivers. His feet followed the trend of his mind and he found himself climbing the first range of the mountains. At first he traveled without definite purpose, but the desire to revisit these places gradually shaped in his brain. The spicy smell of balsam and silver spruce lured him on and he came to the first straggling groups of lumber pine. When he entered the heavy lodgepole growth he encountered many drifts of snow. Half a mile of climbing and he struck the solid, hard-packed drifts of the dense spruce slopes. Then he angled along the face of the range toward a pass that led across it. The jar of hoofs, creaking of saddles and the drone of voices reached him from be- low and he stopped to listen. It was not often that men rode at night. The horses breathed heavily as they bucked the drifts. . Then all sounds ceased but the undertone of voices. When the horses started again they went back down the way they had come, and Flash heard the crunch of snow as three men climbed toward him on foot. The spring sunshine had packed the snow until it held a man where the sharp hoofs and heavier weight of horses would break through. Flash waited until they were quite close before slipping on ahead. He found the high country under a solid blanket of white. When he had been here with Moran there had been little evidence of man, but the hills had been teeming with all varieties of game. This condition was now reversed. He found no signs of game, but near Two Ocean Pass he crossed many trails that had been made by men. Flash was not constituted to live happily alone. With Moran he had been content, and his life had been full when he traveled with Silver. Companionship he must have, either of his own kind or that of man. Except for the big gray owls, there were now no sounds to entertain him at night. The whole expanse of the hills seemed dead and frozen and the hollow silence oppressed him with a sense of world-wide emptiness. His rnemories were sooner dimmed than those of man. Every vivid instance, each great love and hate had left its imprint and helped to shape his life, but these did not now reveal themselves in definite form. His love for Silver and Moran was no t longing for each of them manifested only in the ompanionship in some longer a distin« personally, but was ibsolute need of form He therefore lingered near Two Ocean Pass. The camp was no longer a phantom camp, but very real. He avoided these men by day, but when any one of them chanced to be abroad in the hills at night Flash flanked his trail, testing him with nose and ear, much as a criminologist would have ene his facial characteris- tics and the s} of his head. Food was scz -ce and Flash foraged a pre- carious living—a secant half portion of his usual rations, inane isional snowshoe rab- bit or blue grouse was the only living thing e found. He grew thin and gaunt, his flanks pinched up in odd contrast to the leep chest, and his eyes were sunk in hol- ys were warm and by the second week in May there green patches showing through the white in the broad open meadows of the Thoroughfare and the Yellow hardy new grass peeping through within a few hours after the melt- ing down of the drifts. Flash prepared to leave of loneliness and little meat He left were stone, the this country Two Ocean Pass and when he came to the confluence of the two rivers he followed up the ridge between them. When well up toward the head he looked far across to the main divide. There were Spec ks on the white slopes of They were strung out as far as his eye could oming his way and Flash The famine was many brown the Rampart Pass. in scattered band reach; they were « went to meet them. broken. A few more hours and the Land of Many Rivers would once more be the land of plenty. The elk herds which win- tered in the low valleys of the Shoshone were coming back to the upland meadows of the Yellowstone, the summer paradise of the elk. Flash met the few leaders of this migration and pulled down a cow. Great droves streamed down into the bottoms and traveled on toward the Yellowstone. The valley was a veritable thoroughfare for migrating elk—from which fact comes its name. For a week they came in scattered bands. The big herds that had wintered in Jack- son’s Hole were now coming from the south and mingling on the meadows with those from the Shoshone There was food now in abundance and in a few days Flash reg: uit ed his usual fullness of form. The meadows and all exposed slopes were bare of snow. The deer had not yet come back. Less averse to the proximity of man, the blacktail bands de- scended clear to the foothills each spring when the first shoots of green grass sprouted at the roots of the sage. They would follow the grass line up into the hills and not for another month would they cross the divide and join the elk in the Yellowstone mead- ows. The mountain sheep go up to winter instead of down, grazing on the highest flat tops of the peaks where the savage winds that follow each storm keep the bald ridges scoured free of snow. They now came down for their first nip of green grass and for the first time Flash saw the animals in the valleys. But all this was not enough first se shy He must have company, and here away from Two Ocean Pass there were no men and he could not even experience the vi- carious sense of companionship he had drawn from following them at night. He left the green bottoms and traveled up through the spruce. When he came out above timber line he headed straight for the Rampart Pass. He had not left the tree line two hundred yards behind until he crossed a track that angled back down into the timber. The track wa and the scent was faint, but the was left filled him with a strange ment. He knew it for the woman s¢ He had now no clear-cut yn of the girl he had seen but once, but he turned and followed along on her trail Dusk was settling over the hills when he and night shut down round him as he sped through the woods. The trail led almost many hours old little that excite ent recollec th tarted straight down and he soon dropped to the lower edge of the snow line. The trail grew steadily warmer and at last he could smell smoke and see the glim- mer of a camp fire through the tree The girl was wrapped in a single blanket and sat leaning back against a tree Flash circled twice round the fire, his pads making no sound on the pit e-straw carpet under the tree As siler thy a shadow he drew near until he stood watching her from a distance of ten feet, breathing deeply each time the shifting breeze carried her scent to him. A sudden shift of wind drove the camp- fire smoke straight to him and he sneezed loudly twice. The girl started up ll heer terror at this sound just in time to see a gray shape disappear. ‘Flash!”’ she called after him. Flash! Come, Flash! Come here!” Flash halted. It had been long since he had heard anyone speak his name. From centuries of being sheltered and prote by man, brutality and lust to kill hav refined out of civilized womar that is ea ily apparent to the animal world, and Flash sensed that he had I to fear from the female of the human specie than from the male. Animal estimate by reasoning but to an exter of men are not formed through the con posite impression thev receive from eye, ear and nose. Of this impression the strongest fac tor is that of scent. Flash’s eyes told hin that this girl was the one he had met before Her tones were familiar, but instead of radiating the bubbling vitality and happi ness he associated with her he now sensed an air of weariness and mental depre This had the effect of adding a fresh par to his own loneliness and brought an unex pecte d whine to his throat. The girl, hear ing it, knew he was still near and she resumed her coaxing. “T knew it must be you,” she said “Come, Flash! Come on up to me, Flash!” she begged. Ancestral strains waged grim conflict for the possession of his soul. The ancient heri- tayve of dog to be the slave of man clashed with the wolf urge to be away from all this and back to the free hills. Lured on by the se wn EVENING POST 1 _ ae Ww .. \ 4B j . et Up ina Talore House kes JOY the comfort of 4 getting up and dressing in a warm house. Install the “Little Draft-Man” Furnace Reg- ulator and your furnace fire will start every cold morning while you are snugly nestled in bed. At night set the regulator at the hour you want the fire to start in the morning. At that precise time the damper is opened and the check is closed. By the time the family gets up the house is warm. Phe “Little Draft-Man’’ device for opening your furnace at any time set and for controlling the furnace during the day. ‘Vo start or check the tlow of heat, you simply turn the regu lator handle in the direction. 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146 pell of a woman's voice the spirit of the dog crept forward, dragging with it the pro- testing flesh of the wolf. Inch by inch he neared her until at last she touched him At the touch of her fin gers he was once more the dog, the wild in him subservient to the tame, and he fawned upon her, whin- ing with eagerness The girl threw her arms about him and drew him close “Don't run off like you did that other time!” she be “aged ‘Stay with me, Flash! I couldn't live thron ugh another night alone. Stay with me, won't you, Flash?” The note of appeal in her voice was more urgent than any other sound he had ever heard. His craving for companionship had found an answering need in the girl. He sensed her helplessness and some vague undertone of fear. The blood of many fighting forbears who had protected man rose to the surface in a feeling of responsibility for the safety of this girl a desire to fight off that thing she feared. Even now Flash was not assured that she was the woman he had met before. Not until a measure of her former buoyancy and high spirits returned with her joy at is presence was he sure. Then all three senses codrdinated and definitely identified her as the same It was long curled close beside her protective instincts fully alert. He growled at each far-off sound. When a cow elk ounded her yelping bark close at hand he rushed out and drove her off, returning yroudly to the girl. He knew the elk was as iarmiless as a mouse and all this was more to assure the girl that nothing could harm her, now that he was with her. “It won't be so bad if you'll stay with me, Flash," she told him. “ The loneliness he fore she slept, and Flash his newly roused won't be so heavy that it hurts— like it did before I had you.” Then she slept and the wolf stood guard, ix 4 girl rested on a rock beside the game trail. A tiny mountain stream rushed past a few feet away. The ground sloped steeply up on either side of the stream bed, matted with a tangled jungle of spruce that was tropical in its density Great windfalls of down timber were piled about and many trees had not even found space in which to fall, but rested at odd angles wgainst living trunk A thick carpet of covered earth and rocks and clung in hreds to the trees themselves eemed the most peaceful, lovely pot on earth when I was here before, Klash.”” The girl shivered slightly as she glanced round. “It seems dark andl choumer now. | must have been mad to doit. I had to act at once—no time to think; and I was too dazed to think even if I had been granted time. There was no one to advise me, Flash, and I did the best I knew “I'm glad we're here at last, Flash.” pointed up the slope “It's right up there only a few minutes’ climb. It’s weakening to five for three days on cold lunch alone, especially on short rations of that. I had to travel light.” She slipped into the harness of the haver- ack in which she had packed her scanty store of food. The single blanket was rolled sling fashion and she adjusted it across her houlders and started briskly to climb the slope For two hundred yards the moss frowzy ‘This She ascent was steep. They crawled under and over log jams and threaded their way between close-growing spruce trunks. Then Flash stopped in his tracks The ground hs ad flattened i into a tiny hol- low at the base of the cliffs that towered abruptly up above the trees and defined the limits of the narrow gorge. In the center of this depression a cabin showed among the trees His nose had given him no warning of this. Always he knew of the presence of man before drawing near, yet he had come full upon this house. Even now his nose told him that his eyes were wrong. There was not the slightest trace of man scent and his ears caught no single vibra- tion of sound. He had no previous experi- ence to guide him in sizing up a house that had been so long untenanted as to have lost all taint of man. He shrank from ap- proaching this unnatural place. But the girl pressed on and he followed, every hair tingling and each nerve aquiver, his muscles nehed for sudden flight. He was filled with all the apprehensions of a boy who enters at night a house alleged to be haunted THE SATURDAY The girl lifted a heavy wooden latch and entered, but Flash refused to be coaxed in- side. He circled the cabin, examining it minutely, shoving his nose hard against the logs and breathing explosively in his effort to solve this strange mystery of the house that held no scent. It was built of heavy logs. A woodsman could have told at a glance that it had been erected long ago and that only primitive tools had been used in its construction. The door was built of spruce planks slabbed out with an ax and swung on hinges of elk hide nailed on with wooden pegs. The roof was of lodgepole logs five inches through and covered with a foot ef dirt. Satisfied at last that there was no lurk- ing menace about this strange place, Flash went in to the girl. The fireplace was built of flat stones ce- mented with clay which had baked hard. The furniture was of rough-hewn pine with legs of seasoned mountain ash driven in two-inch auger holes bored in the planks. Inside, Flash caught a very faint scent which was not that of man, but was in some vague way suggestive of man. This came from the flour, beans, rice and other food, sealed in almost air-tight cans to protect it from marauding pack rats. The girl gathered branches and kindled a blaze in the fireplace. From an icy spring at the base of the cliff she carried a small pail of water and started to prepare a meal, cooking over the coals in the fireplace as if over a camp fire in the open. Early dusk we is settling in the depths of the cafion and before eating she gathered a great pile of wood, “That’s the only light we'll Flash,” she told him. “ Firelight.” She offered him a share of the meal, cooked food was not to his liking. Since finding this lovely goddess the pre- vious night Flash had not once been out of sight of her, but he now felt the pangs of hunger. He scratched at the door and whined, imploring the girl to let him out. “*Where’s that man, Moran, who owns you, Flash?” she asked. | must be here somewhere or you wouldn’t be here your- self. If I let you out you'll run away and go back to him. I want you to stay with me until Dad Kinney - have, but comes. Flash scratched and whined again. “Hle should be here now,” she said. “He'll be here surely in a day or two. Then you can go. You'll stay with me until then, won't you, Flash?” His whining and scratching became so insistent that at last she walked reluctantly to the door and opened it, leaving it ajar so he could reénter when he wished. ‘Don't you desert me, Flash,’ monished him as he slipped out. Flash dropped swiftly down the slope to the game trail and followed along it toward the mouth of the cafion, his nose uplifted to catch the first scent of meat. Half a mile below, the gorge widened intoa narrow park beside the stream. A cow elk was feeding there. She caught a faint whilf of danger and stood rigid. The dread wolf scent sud- denly reached her flaring nostrils and she tled—but not in time to escape the shad- owy form that drove down upon her from the timber edge with lightning speed. Back at the cabin the girl, alarmed at his long absence, was whistling and coaxing from the door in the hope that he would hear and come back to her, but there was no answering whine from the inky black- ness under the trees, and at last she decided that he had gone back to Moran. Loneliness clutched her with an icy hand. She sat by the fire, knowing she would not sleep until dawn lifted the shadows from the cafion. The vast silence seemed freighted with unknown dangers. She almost prayed for some sound to break it. Then it came! And her supplication was instantly trans- " she ad- formed into an earnest prayer that she might never hear that awful cry again. She did not know what it was—-except that it was made by some terrible beast of prey. It carried to her the same sensation as if she had scratched her finger nails across the rough surface of a sand rock. It sounded again, this time close at hand, filling the cafion with its volume. The cry was charged with al! the aching misery and loneliness of the ages. A sudden bump at the door startled her horribly. It was followed by an eager whine and a furious scratching. She sprang to the door and let Flash in, barring it shut once more the instant he crossed the sill. The flood of relief that surged through her was like a blessing. She put her arms round the dog EVENING POST ‘Poor Flash!” It chased you home. you, old boy? log Flash did not seem troubled. On the contrary he sprawled in front of the fire and blinked contentedly up at her. His mood was mellow, for he had dined well; and his placid calm reassured the girl, for she knew that if danger lurked just outside Flash would be bristling and alert. She spread her blanket on the bunk and the rough boards felt soft. The last sight that her drowsy eyes rested upon before she slept the sleep of utter exhaustion was the peacefully dozing dog before the fire. It was well for her peace of mind that she did not suspect the truth; that the soul- chilling ery had been his own imploring message to a long-lost mate—the summons to come and feast upon the elk he had torn down with his savage teeth. She slept on soundly until the dog’s rest- less wanderings about the room roused her to the light of day. Every muscle ached from the night on the hard bunk and her first task after breakfast was to carry spruce boughs to cover the boards. Early in the afternoon she grew restless from inactivity and wandered down the game trail with Flash. Half a mile down she saw a dead elk in an open park. It had not been there when they came up the pre- vious day. She could see the throat, gashed open by savage teeth, and knew that the elk had been killed by the beast whose cry had chilled her the night before. She had no further taste for walking and hurried back to the house. Near evening she went to the spring for water. As she knelt to dip it Flash came creeping up from the opposite side. He moved with astealthy crouch and there was a queer light in the yellow eyes. When within twenty feet he sprang straight toward her. There was a sudden rushing whir of wings as a blue grouse took flight, only to be struck down by a big paw. The wings drummed on the ground as Flash held the bird down after beheading it with one nip. For a full ten seconds she could only gaze fascinated by this wild picture, then jumped the spring and ran to him. Flash drew away, fearing he had offended her by this deed, but when she picked up the grouse and turned to him there was no re- proach in her voice. “Oh, Flash, it’s a mean trick to steal your dinner!” she said. “* But I haven’t any meat. Beans and rice and biscuits are so dry, and I do love grouse, Will you share it with me, Flash? She carried the bird back to the cabin and dressed it, reserving only the white breast meat for herself and giving the rest to Flash. This female tyranny was no new thing to Flash. Often when with Silver he had killed some small-game animal or bird, only to have Silver deprive him of it. The next day he foraged near the cabin and killed another grouse. As he pulled off the head and swallowed it a sudden thought struck him and he did not tear at the bird. He had been the main support of his family during the first month after Silver’s pups were born, carrying food to the den each night. This wonderful shining goddess who had adopted him had taken his last grouse for her own. He took the grouse in his mouth and trotted back to the cabin. From past expe- rience with Silver, it seemed perfectly natu- ral to kill and carry his prey to the den of this new companion. When he dropped the grouse before the girl the light in her eyes and thrill of love in her voice repaid him a thousand times. “Why, Flash! You old darling, you're trying to feed me, aren’t you?” she cried. ‘**You’re the smartest dog that ever lived. I envy that Moran. I think I'll steal you, Flash.’ That night Flash once more scratched to get out. Soon after she heard the dreadful cry of two nights before. She did not know that Flash had pulled down a small year- ling elx and that this was his joyful call for her to come and join him at the kill; for now, having killed food for her, his call was meant for her instead of the departed Silver. Some way he knew that the girl would not come, and after eating his fill he sliced deeply into a hind quarter to tear it off. When he had cut nearly to the bone he seized the foot and wrenched the leg over the back at right angles, throwing the hip socket out of joint. He worked tirelessly, alternately cutting at the ligaments with his teeth and wrenching on the foot with all his strength until it was severed she said. ‘Poor Flash! Did it nearly catch November 29,1919 It weighed forty pounds, but was no heavier load than he had frequently taken home to Silver and the pups. He lifted the heavy end and started for the cabin, the foot trailing on the ground beside him Every few yards the weight tired his neck and he rested, sometimes taking the foot and dragging the heavy end. The girl sat in the cabin wondering at his long absence, when she heard a pecul- iar dragging sound punctuated with dull thumps as Flash wrestled the heavy quarter up the slope from the game trail, jerking it over and through the windfall jams. She opened to his scratching and he backed in, pulling his offering across the sill. The frayed end of the meat was black with dirt and spruce needles and she drew back from this gruesome relic. She little suspected that Flash had kjlled this elk for her, but naturally supposed he had found a portion of some dead animal and brought it in. Her eyes were bright with tears as she patted and stroked his head. “You're a good provider, Flash,’ she praised. ‘‘ You don’t want me to starve on eans and rice, do you, old boy? There was never in this world another dog like you.” He reveled in the knowledge that his lovely mistress was pleased with him. At the same time he fully realized her distaste for this latest contribution. He knew that she relished some of the meat he had brought. Evidently she did not care for this kind. He was not critical of her tastes. She should have the kind she chose. To his mind the animal world was di- vided into two a as far as food pur- poses were concerned: The first and by far the most a included the meat of all large animals; the second included all smal! animals and birds. Of this division there were some few whose meat he did not like and which only starvation would have driven him to touch. His mistress seemed to prefer meat that came from the smaller species. For the next two days he hunted tirelessly as he had for Silver and the pups. The den must be supplied with meat. The girl was between laughter and tears at the growing assortment of game he brought to the cabin. Grouse, rabbits, woodchucks, a marten, a pack rat and a whole family of little striped chipmunks were included in the list of small creatures whose lives were sacrificed through his love of her. His intelligence seemed so nearly human that she hesitated to throw away these offerings lest he should take offense. When he was off on his hunts she dropped the undesirable specimens in deep cracks in the rock subbie that lay piled at the foot of the cliff. In common with the majority of the human race she grossly underestimated ani- mal powers of scent. Flash could scent a track made by a grouse two hours past ; A rabbit has a half inch of hair on his feet, yet Flash could follow the trail one left on hard- frozen ground or even on glare ice as easily as a man sees its track in soft snow. He had no need to go within thirty feet of the cliff to know accurately the exact spot in which each one had been dropped, and just which one it was. In the old days with Silver he himself had buried meat in a score of places near the den after the family had feasted to capacity. That these caches had never been reopened mattered not at all. They were but reserves against the possible fam- ine which never came. It now seemed perfectly natural that the girl should bury her surplus meat. How- ever, he preferred dirt to rocks for this pur- pose, and those of the victims he could reach he drew forth and carried to some spot of his own selection, interring them deep in the ground and pushing the soft dirt in place, tamping it firmly with his nose. Zz N THE spring a bear's pelt is in its prime when the fur of all others slips. His hair has grown thick and silky during the long sleep of hibernation. In this high country the bear does not leave his den until some- time early in May, but even this is too early for men to bring horses across the lofty passes that lead into it. The girl knew that this fact was inti- mately related to Dad Kinney’s plans. The previous fall he had left supplies at the cabin, planning to come in on foot and collect many prime spring pelts to be packed out later when the passes were free Continued on Page 149

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Continued from Page 146) of snow. The days passed and Kinney failed to come. The girl often talked of this to Flash. ° “He should have been here long ago.” Each day she repeated this to the dog. “Even if he had changed his plans he would come the instant my letter reached him, Flash. He’s a little late, that’s all. He'll be here to-morrow sure.”” And as each succeeding night fell without a sign of him she bravely promised the dog that the next day he would surely come. Many doubts had risen in her mind: the possible failure of her letter to reach him or the chance that some mishap had befallen the old man on his long trip across the treacherous snow combs of the peaks. She still dreaded the cry that sounded every few nights in the cafion, but restless- ness at last forced her away from the cabin in the daytime. She took long tramps with Flash, climbing to some commanding point from which she could scan the sur- rounding country. She explored their own immediate vicinity, but not until a week after her arrival at the cabin did she ven- ture into new territory. Then one afternoon she turned down- stream. The cafion gradually widened until it shaded into another at right angles a mile below the cabin. Here the two streams forked into one. The girl climbed the high ridge on the opposite side and looked down upon a still wider valle sudden storm swe pt down across the divide and she sought shelter under an overhang- ing ledge. The rain fell in torrents and the lightning flashed and cracked until it seemed to play along the rocks round her. Even Flash shrank from the territie reports that hurt his sensitive eardrums and he burrowed his head into the folds of her walking skirt to protect them. She read this move as one of fear and it added to her own misgivings. She felt no active fear of the lightning it- self, but it shattered the control of over- wrought nerves and she buried her face in the dog’s fur and sobbed wildly. Flash was strangely affected by her grief. His own plastic nature, subject to all outside impressions, responded to her emo- tion and his soul was wrung with misery. For a time he whimpered in sympathy, but this mood was soon superseded by a desire to comfort her. He drew away and re- garded her anxiously, then pawed at the arms which shielded her face. He fronted this, his first experience with a woman in tears, as helpless!y as most men face a similar situation. He wanted to help her con- to fight for her, but he could not fight this intangible en- emy. He snarled savagely at imaginary foes, clashing his teeth in vicious snaps. If the girl had not soon quieted he would have y dashed away in a frenzy to kill the first living thing he met. She regained: her self-control and felt better for having r lieved the nervous tension of the last few days. Flash’s mood changed with hers. He too felt better. The steady downpour slackened to a drizzle. Heavy gray clouds scudded past, obscuring the hills beyond and the valley below. This in turn changed swiftly to a dense fog— one of the millewhite mountain fogs in which even seasoned hillmen hesi- tate to travel when in a strange country. As the girl started for home the tree trunks loomed vaguely a few feet away. For all she could see of it, it might have been a forest of stumps, the trunks being invisible at a height of twenty feet. Flash kept a pace before her, heading unerringly for home, and she followed him uncon- sciously, thinking that she chose the route herself. The fog seemed to deepen and turn to purple instead of white. With a thrill of apprehension she realized that night was settling down over the hills. Before she reached the foot of the slope night had completed the swift transformation of the fog from milky white to oozy black which shut her in until she was unable to see two feet ahead. She groped forward, feeling her way. Her mind recoiled from the thought of the mile-long trip before her; every footeof it seemed fraught with perils. She remem- bered the one horrible night she had spent alone before Flash, like an answer to a prayer, had come to her on the night. But then she had had a fire. The wind was at their backs and not until they turned into the cafon and started up the game trail did Flash scent the menace ahead. His hair bristled and he second THE SATURDAY turned back. But the girl was now sure of her ground and went on. Flash ran round in front of her, pushing to turn her aside. Not until he growled did she understand that there was danger lurking near. The scent came plain and it was that of man. He — hear voices which the girl could not. A sudden thought assailed her. Flash must have detected the presence of the beast whose chilling cry she had often heard at night, but she hurried on. It was all she knew—to reach the refuge of the cabin at all costs. Flash knew these scents and voices were those of some of the men who lived near Two Ocean Pass. To him they meant dan ger, even death, and as he followed her he bristled uneasily. That they meant danger to her he was not so sure. The ways of men with men had always baffled him. Men whom he trusted associated with those he knew to be dangerous in the extreme. Of the way of men with women he knew noth- ing at all. Perhaps these men who meant death to him would not harm his lovely mistress in the least. The sounds which he heard so clearly did not reach the girl until she rounded a sud- den bend in the cafion. She heard a man's laugh at the same instant that she saw the dim wavering light of a fire gleaming through the fog. It appeared far off, but was in reality only fifty feet. It meant but one thing to her. Kinney had come at last and someone else was with him. In her relief at escaping the imaginary dangers of the night she hurried toward the very real one at the fire. The voices which covered the sound of her approach ceased suddenly as she appeared like a wraith out of the night. The group of half a dozen men round the fire stared incredulously. She too was startled by the unexpected number and the absence of any familiar face. Kinney was not there. ‘I’m lost,” she said unsteadily. And she saw the hungry gleam leap into the eyes of one after another of the group. The fire- light revealed faces that were hard and desperate. These men had long been denied the so- ciety of women. This appearance among them of a beautiful girl was like the smell of meat to starving beasts of prey. Nota man there but would have murdered his friend in order to own her. From beyond the circle of light thrown by the fire a pair of yellow eyes watched this tableau. Flash sensed the menace to his goddess, satisfied at last that she was unsafe among these men. There was one man whose cold brain never failed him in an emergency. ‘Where are your friends camped?” he asked. ‘I don’t know,” she said, some inner voice prompting her to li ‘But some- where close. I stayed under a rock—and out of the rain— not far from camp.” As her voice trailed away the man rose. ‘I'll take you to. them,” he offered. “ Sst come with me ‘Leave it to Harte to think first,”’ said another. He rose also. “I need exercise. I'll just go along with you.” Every last man leaped to his feet and leered at her. These men stood in awe of Harte, but the beauty of the girl had in- flamed them beyond caution. One man crowded closer to her. As he moved a silent shadow out in the fog moved with him, crouching low to the ground. Harte’s own blood pounded hotly from her nearness and he knew that he could not control the lawless impulses of the others, yet his brain functioned as coolly as before. ‘Think it over,” he advised them calmly. ‘‘You know what it will mean to have a fight with a party of hunters in here. In a week we'd have posses scouring this whole country.” “What of it? The Hole is twenty miles from here,” said one, his eyes resting hun- grily on the girl. ‘‘I’ll have a word with her before she goes.” He threw his arms round her and as he touched her a demon apparition with flash- ing eyes and fangs split the curtain of fog and drove straight for his throat. The teeth sank deep in his upraised shoulder and the force of the drive bore him to the ground. The blank wall of fog had swallowed both the dog and the fleeing girl before a man of them fully realized what had o: curred. Before she had run twenty feet up the game trail they were after her. The pupils of their eyes, accustomed to the fire- readily light, were not readjusted to the EVENING POST velvety black umder the trees and they stumbled blindly. When the foremost man stretched forth his hand to seize her, something struck his extended arm with such force as almost to shear it off. He tripped and fell. “The dog!”’ he screamed. ‘‘She’s got a dog! Look out for him!” The next man fell over him and pulled his gun as he scrambled to his feet. He bounded ahead——and teeth with the grip of death clamped his leg from behind and a backward wrench slammed him down across a log. As he fell the red spurt of flame from his gun streaked the night and the man close behind cursed him for a fool for shooting almost point-blank in his face. Love transcended fear in Flash and in his rage against these men who would harm the girl he conquered his dread of guns, Always it was the man ahead, the one near- est to her, that felt his teeth. Human flesh could not endure against this silent, unseen fiend that slashed them and was gone. By common consent they had all turned back before the boldest had made fifty yards from the fire. Retreat turned to rout, for Flash fol- lowed them back, striking swiftly and leaping away from the shot he feared would follow. They shot blindly after him, en- dangering their own lives more than his. The last man he heeled as he would a cow _, threw him. When they burst into the circle of firelight they found Harte seated on a roc k calmly smoking a cigi arette. “You're a bloody-looking crew,” he ob- served. ‘I'd like to own that dog.” One man extended his left hand exhibit- ing a ragged flesh wound between thumb and forefinger. “Some fool shot me,” was either Seely or Cole.” Both men profanely denied this charge. Harte laughed scornfully as he looked them over. ‘“*Mistaken identity,” he jeered. ‘Clay Siggens, shot by a pal who mistook him for a dog in the battle of hide and seek.” They scowled down at him “IT was out with Jarrat and Hanlin this “It he growled. spring,” he went on. ‘“‘Jarrat belongs in a coop for the homicidal insane and Ham- lin’s a thick-skulled brute—but even so, when it comes to brains they have this lay- out cheated seven ways from the deuce.” “You wanted the girl yourself,’ said Cole. ‘You aimed to take her off some- where alone.” ‘What of Harte shrugged. ‘I wouldn’t have made a mess of it. Tie up those rents in your hide and let’s go.” ‘Go!t” Cole exclaimed. ‘Go where “Anywhere,” said Harte. ‘* Do you poor “?” > brainless apes expect to bed down here an d sleep? There’s a hunting party of the girl’ friends ¢ amped round here close They’ have guides. When they hear the ors story they'll be looking for us and pick us off like rats as we lay asleep round the fire.”’ As always, his logic convincing They started to apply what rough first aid they could to the deepest cuts. As they moved a beast with dripping jaws circled round and round the fire waiting for one to venture out into the night When they left they started downstream in the direction from the girl. Flash let them go and went back to her. He followed her warm trail for almost a mile before he found her stealing cautiously along the game trail. She believed Flash was dead. She knew he had fought desperately to give her time. He had not come back to her after the was opposite shots. It was a stunning shock when, with- out a sound to warn her, a cold nose was thrust suddenly against her hand. The eager whine which followed told her it was Flash, alive and safe. She dropped to her knees and threw her arms about him, whispering her gratitude in brok n sobs started ahead once more, urged on by the thought that they still followed her. Flash turned from the trail and whined for her to come, and she felt her way through the down timber of the slope and entered the cabin As she rain began to fall, closed the door behind her the blotting out whatever trail she might have left. She lay on the bunk, straining to hear any sound of pur suit She heard nothing but the rain, and near morning she slept from sheer exhaus tion. When she opened her eyes it was light. Flashseemed calm and peaceful and she knew from this that the men aa not be near Hescratched at the door and she let him out 149 Flash started at once for the scene of the fight. He circled cautiously, testing the wind. The rank odor of the drowned camp fire was all that reached him. The rain had washed out all but the faintest trace of human scent. As he drew near he snarled and bristled his back roach at the smell of blood that haunted the wet spruce needles where he had slashed at them the night before. He followed their cold trail for a mile, then left it, satisfied that they were far away, and started on a hunt for meat. An hour later he turned up at the cabin carry ing a grouse, The girl would not leave the cabin again, not even descending to the game trail along the stream. The scant store of provisions was running low. She could not help but associate these men with Dad Kinney’s failure to arrive Her worry over him inspired a like uneasi ness about a man she had never Moran, the owner of Flash. On that other trip when Flash had crept up to her in the moonlit park Kinney had told her that the dog would never leave Moran, yet Flash now stayed with her. Her chief fear had been that Flash would leave her any moment and go back to him. But he had stayed. It now occurred to her that he would not so easily desert the man who had raised him from a pup. Something had happened to Moran. The thought per sisted and she often referred to it in her conversations with the dog. The frequent repetition of Moran’s name struck some chord of memory in Flash. He had by no means forgotten Moran, but his recollec- tion of him was more of a vague longing than a definite picture. Man's most dependable sense is his sense of sight, and he carries the memory of ab- sent loved ones by a mental! visualization of their faces. Dogs, instead of a mental like- ness, retain a mixture of sight, scent and sound, the latter two being the predominat ing elements of animal memory. It is this which sometimes causes a dog to bark at the approach of his master, whom he can plainly see, but cannot recognize until some familiar scent or sound identifies him It was sound —the name of Moran —that stirred Flash. Each rec ‘urring time it came from the girl’s lips it quickened the half dormant longing that was in him. And it was sound that one day caused him to drop seen all else and investigate a distant note with a familiar ring. He had rambled far up the slope of the main divide where he often hunte 1 some thing beat faintly against his eardrums and he knew it was a far-off sound of man. Hi ears pricked forward and he moved excit edly from spot to spot. It was a man who whistled, and the air was one of the few little tunes that Moran had whistled end lessly’as he wandered alone. Flash started swiftly along the hill in the direction of the sound xI HERE was one man who had given many interesting facts to the world. ie had unraveled the half-century-old mys tery of the lost herd. All that men knew of the swift fox was ae his research. He had definitely linked the buffalo gray with the so-called lobo rent Great beasts had come down out of the North and it was rumored that for the first time moose had been seen in the beaver swamps of the Thoroughfare. This man was now on his way to the Land of Many Rivers to determine whether this new Western moose was a distinct type or merely a detached band strayed down fron its Northern range Far up Seclusion Creek, Moran lay rolled in his blankets, his head “ ipped up on one elbow as he listened to the night { which he loved so well and had not heard for so long a time A cow elk barked from the timber; from far down the stream came the shrill staccato of a coyote and another answered from above An owl on the rim rocks overhead hooted | whereabouts to a far-off mate. These sounds, the very es of loneline sence to most men, were the voices of old friends to Moran. He read ir them more of primitive love and under standing than of savagery There was a sudden hush and for a space of minutes no living creature raised it voice. Moran had heard no sound to indi cate the reason for tl but he knew that the wild things of the hills could hear thing much too distant to be detected by the ear of man. Thi 1ddetr ispension of all a mal communicatior the absolute ce tion of every note, meant but one thing to

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A million user flocked to it before we adver tisedt it Thi the queen Flour i iperlative duct It mace for the peoy whe love Ouaker q \ tl ‘ ) th { W ke with a | t { WOOO harre It ( vant tI t | ‘ ke eT t ( I \ \ ln ‘4 ‘ | to conform to Government requirements, we ™ 208 use over one-half the wheat kernel Quaker Farina EVENING POST Moran. As unerringly as if he himself had heard it, he knew that somewhere a wolf had howled. Yet Moran knew, too, that this high country was not infested with wolves. This must be a straggler passing through. Moran had stopped for the night at the lower edge of the snow line, and when he rolled his pack in the morning it took him less than an hour to climb out of the spruce belt above timber line. He worked his way on up the divide and before noon he stood in the Rampart Pass. The serrated masses of the Rainbow Peaks, the ragged saw teeth of the Tetons and the other distant ranges that walled in the Land of Many Rivers showed up in miniature, clear cut and distinct, broken only by the dark rents which marked each wild gorge through which the rivers rushed on their way to the low country. The south slope of the divide was streaked with brown where the more exposed spots were free of snow. Moran chose a long ridge that swept down far below timber line, its bald crest looming above the trees and splitting the solid green of the spruce belt, and followed it down the far side of the divide. When well down among the trees three jays flew above him, rending the air with weird squawks. He watched them pitch down into an opening in the timber. An eagle swooped grandly down out of the sky and a string of chattering magpies flitted from tree to tree toward the same spot T'wo ravens winged down from a cliff face, one of them croaking hoarsely and the other emitting a series of clear tenor whis tles, each note ending with a click as if a sharp rap on the beak had chopped the whistle short Moran knew whet this feathered clave presaged. The meat-eating birds of the hills were assembling to the feast. He would find some carcass in the opening, and he turned aside to investigate. The carrion hosts flapped away at his approach, pro- testing raucously at this interruption of their banquet. Out in the open spot he one con- could see a dead cow elk. Moran knew there were but three beasts in the hills that could kill an elk —the grizzly, the mountain lion and the wolf The fact that the elk lay in open country eliminated the first. Few grizzlies are killers, and those that are invariably stalk their prey in dense down-timbered spots. They must creep close enough for a short rush and then tear and hammer down their meat by sheer strength. The mountain lion launches himself for the back, strikes his talons deep through skin and flesh and rides his victim to death, his teeth buried ever dee per in the ne« k As Moran drew near he had no slightest doubt as to the identity of the slayer. The severed hamstrings convicted the wolf. The birds had hopped about and obliter- ated most of the other signs. In a spot of moist earth he could make out one track, and whistled in surprise at its size. He wondered if it was possible that one last buffalo gray still lingered in the hills He had down from winter to spring. Here each open spot was green and the drifts lay in only the darkest, most shel- tered spots in the timber. As he walked under the trees Moran whistled cheerfully come He had a sudden feeling that something watched him— followed him. Many times he had tried to analyze this feeling All men who live in the open are familiar with it. They variously speak of it as a feeling ora hunch. Others, slightly more learned, refer to it as intuition or class it as some mysterious subtle sixth sense. Moranstrove always for some natural explanation of all things. Often when hunting or rambling in the hills he had suddenly known that game was near him. He could not tell why he knew At times he had even known the kind — bear, elk or deer as the case might have been Later, upon investigation, he frequently found a fresh bear track or the warm bed of some elk or deer if the animal itself was gone. There is a strong odor that lingers for hours about the deserted bed of a large animal, and when very close to it even the nose of man can easily tell the difference between the scent of deer and elk. It was this fact that had first started Moran’s mind working along one certain line until he had finally evolved a satisfactory theory of his own, in the dim ages of the past, man had un- doubtedly used his senses of scent and hear- ing as keenlyas the beasts did, else he had not survived. From many centuries of disuse November 29, 19/19 these senses had become dulled, yet they still functioned slightly. Some faint scent or sound, the snapping of a twig or the soft pad of a distant footfall, too elusive to make a distinct impression upon the con- sciousness of modern man, was communi- cated to some long-dormant brain cell which now only reacted sluggishly, and the warning was manifested by this vague feeling, hunch or intuition that all hillmen know. This was Moran’s solution, and as he walked he kept his face straight to the front, glancing to the right and left with- out turning his head, seeking ocular proof of the presence he felt. His patience was re- warded by one brief glimpse of a long gray shape that slipped between the spruce trunks a hundred yards up the slope, and that one instant enabled him to identify the animal as belonging to the wolf tribe. His thrill of satisfaction was accompanied by a shock of surprise. Moran knew that the tales of animals who stalk men through the hills originate mainly in the too-imaginative minds of novices in the woods. Animals that had lived in localities little frequented by man had sometimes approached him out of curi- osity. He had seen deer draw near and stamp excitedly at this strange two-legged beast many such evidences as that — but to be followed was something entirely new. To be followed by a wolf, the one creature that avoids man scent like a pestilence, was almost incredible to Moran. It upset all the convictions formed by years of study. This beast must be a dog. Moran turned back until he reached a long drift that stretched far up the slope along the shel- tered side of a gulch, and started up to find the track where the wolf had crossed. The tracks of dogs and wolves are so similar that even experts cannot always be sure. The wolf track is slightly, almost imper- ceptibly longer than that of some dogs, but the large wolfish types of dogs incline also to that shape of track. One thing Moran knew. A wolf's tracks would be evenly spaced and placed one directly before the other in a straight line and show no trace of the wavering, scram- bling gait of the dog. But some of the wolf- ish breeds of dogs inherit this wolf gait, and the one glimpse had proved that the animal was of that kind. Moran found the trail across the drift true, straight and evenly spaced. Still he was not convinced. A sudden thought flitted across his mind. **Flash!”’ he called. ‘‘Flash! Come out of it, you big gray rascal! Come on out here!” He knew that Flash’s body had never been found after the shooting at the Bar T ranch. The Wind River wolf had never re- appeared on the range and it was presumed that Flash was dead. There was just a chance that he had survived. Moran called again and again. Out in the timber Flash thrilled and trembled. First, the sound of the whistle; then the familiar appearance of the man he followed and the scent he knew forMoran’s; now the much-loved voice; all sense codér- dinated and Flash knew that this was Moran. He longed to go to him, but hard experience had taught him that all men, even former friends, now sought his life. He circled several times clear round the spot where Moran sat on a log. Moran caught occasional glimpses of him through the trees. It was Flash! Each circle was drawn closer. Flash heard the glad note in Moran’s voice. Moran carried no rifle, but there was a holster at his hip and Flash had learned to dread all guns. At last he was in plain sight, standing rigid fifty yards away, down an aisle through the trees. Foot by foot he approached. He whined, and this was the first sound Moran had ever heard from him. When he stood within ten feet of Moran his conflicting emotions were so powerful that he writhed his head from side to side and clashed his teeth in savage snaps to relieve the inner strain, baring his fangs terribly, but whining eagerly at the same time. When at last Moran touched him all doubt was gone In his frantic joy he abandoned his usual dignity and threw his weight upon him so recklessly that Moran braced himself to keep from being over- thrown. At the end of an hour Moran started on and Flash stayed so close as almost to touch him. When they reached a spot where several cafons branched off, Flash (Continued on Page 153)

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST 151 Asbestos— the only rock on which plants thrive NDUSTRY thrives most where waste is least. And since the development of Asbestos has gone hand in hand with the saving of heat, power and friction, this mineral of wonder ful qualities has played an important part in Industrial Conservation. It is the base of all efficient heat insulation—the necessary other 15% in 85% magnesia. It is, as well, the basic material in the most efficient of friction reducing packings. As roofings it has qualities of durability and fire-resist ance that no other material can approach. And in innumerable other forms it works miracles of industrial economy that a decade ago would have seemed impossible. For more than half a century the Johns-Manville Company has steadily grown with the growth of industrial demand for Asbestos. The Johns-Manville Asbestos mines are the largest in the world. Inthe Johns-Manville plants every Asbestos product is produced under super-advantages both of experience and equipment. The Johns-Manville sales-organization, operating through branches in all large cities, is an engineer ing organization as well, carrying a helpful, practical Service, that varies to meet each new requirement, but always has for its object — Conservation. H. W. JOHNS-MANVILLE CO., New York City 10 Factories — Branches in 63 Large Cities For Canada, the Canadian Johns-Manville Co., Ltd., Toronto Johns-Manville Asbestos Products include Roofings, Shingles, Brake Linings and Blocks, Insulations, Cements, Packings, Electrical De- vices, Tapes, Clothes, Yarns hundreds of products that enter every avenue of science and the useful arts By THE C Through— Asbestos and its allied products --/ JOHNS - MANVILLE tha PACKINGS ’ - ' ee Serves in Conservation ' EVENTION PRODUCTS that

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Continued from Page 150 trotted ahead and stood in a break in the rims through which a game trail pitched down over the lip of a deep gorge. He looked back expectantly at Moran. “You think that’s the best one to follow down, old boy?” asked Moran. “All right, we'll try it.”” And Moran started along the trail that tacked dizzily down the nose of the cafon. After striking the bottom it fol- lowed a tiny stream that grew steadily larger, fed by springs and melting drifts. After a mile of this Moran noted wolf tracks in the trail. It was padded thick with them. ‘You old rascal, you’ve been holding out here for a long time,” he said. Flash turned aside and started up through the down timber of the slope. Moran was not surprised. He had a sudden hope that Flash was mated and that he would find the den under a windfall or among tne rocks at the base of the cliff. It was late for pups to remain at a den, but wolves sometimes mated late. This was no place for a wolf den, but it was possible, Flash watched Moran. The man kept on as if he had not noticed. Flash whined after him. He ran round in front and once more turned up the slope ‘What’s up there, Flash?’ “What do y * asked Moran. ou want to show me?” He smiled he thought of the con- ernation his appearance would occasion a she wolf if the den were really there. He turned and followed Flash up the slope. He stopped and stared incredulously at as tne cabir It was old and moss covered, The occupant had left no tracks on the game trail. This must be the refuge of some hermit—some fugitive who avoided men. xII \ HEN Teton Jackson tore away from between two guards and threw him- self from a moving train he left no trail, The isolated mountain vailey in the shadow of the Tetons from which as a boy he had led his Robin Hood band to prey upon three tates still his name, but the world never again found a single trace of the man himself. The valley of his name was settled Some few of the earlier set- bore by ranchers. tlers remembered him—and kindly, for no struggling squatter ever had cause to com- plain of his treatment at the hands of Jackson and his men Among “ll the outlaws who escaped dur- ing the next quarter of a century there were but few—perhaps a score—of whom no trace was ever found. In prison circles rumor linked the names of these men to- gether and there were whispers of some phantom rendezvous called The Hole. No man seemed possessed of knowledge as to the whereabouts of this place. Stool pigeons tht but These rumors istent, and it was recalled that the of these vanished ones were-of the ’ t. At last the au- ; inclined to the belief that some of these men were banded together somewhere ond reach of the law. As Moran viewed the cabin these things his mind. He recalled tales told of signal lights flashing from to peak. One sportsman, who could he wigwag alphabet, claimed to have caught a portion of one message. Among the words he made out were the names of two men—the names of two of the most desperate escaped criminals alive. Moran dismissed these thoughts as absurd—absurd at least in so far as they concerned this particular spot. A number of men could not help but leave numerous telltale signs of their This was the home of ome neard nau rumors, were per rit’ bandi

ir type of her flitted throug! nat men peak read t presence. lone hermit. Flash preceded him and scratched at the joor. It opened—and the scene was trans- rmed for Moran. Any man would have yroounced the girl’s beauty exceptional, and perhaps Moran’s surprise at this vision door added to his estimate of her. He was instantly aware that he had never seen anything so intensely beautiful as the girl who stood there, vivid and alive, in this wild setting. She looked up and saw him and the color fled from her face, leaving it white and drawn. n the

“IT startled you,” said Moran. ‘I’m She gazed at him without a word. Flash moved back to his side, his big tail waving proudly. Moran placed his hand on the dog’s head and from this move the girl divined the man’s identity. ““You’re Clark Moran,” she said. He nodded, surprised that she should know his name

THE SATURDAY “Then they didn’t kill you after all?” “No,” hesmiled. ‘I’m very much alive.” “Flash brought you here?” Again he nodded. “Did they get Dad Kinney—is that the reason he hasn't come?” “I saw him a few days ago as I came up the Shoshone—stayed at his camp over- night,’ said Moran. “He's alive and well.” “Then he didn’t get my letter,’’ she stated positively. “Probably not,” said Moran. He sensed that there was some connecting link of thought between each disjointed phrase and he tried to understand it all. “T can get him for you,” he offered. ‘I can make his camp in three days—two days on a forced hike—and have him back here in five—that or any other way in which car } elp you.” The reaction to her normal self was swift. It occurred to her that this man was won derfully self-controlled. He was passing off a strange situation as if it were no un- usual thing for him to find a girl in a secret cabin fifty miles from the nearest ranch. Her remarks must have sounded incoherent; she had spoken of things he had no way to know, yet he showed no excitement or curiosity. She liked his level gaze—knew she had nothing to fear from him. **I’m here alone, waiting for Dad Kinney to come. Please come in,” she said. ‘“‘I’m starting dinner. As I work I'll try to de- cide how I can take advantage of your offer to help.’ Fi two

Pp. ash prowled continuou ly between the his toenails clicking across the floor as he tried to keep within touching distance of each one. He sensed a certain constraint, an air of strangeness between them, but he was too well pleased at having brought these two together to pay much heed to trifling a thing as that. When Moran picked up his ax Flash followed him outside. Moran selected a tall dead pine, sized it up with an apprais- ing eye and notched the trunk. **We’'ll cut some regular wood for her, 1 boy,” he said. ‘“She’s been burning squaw wood—limbs and scraps. I wish you could talk and tell me what it’s all about. She’s had something happen which has all her little world—and she’s run away from it. Her plans didn’t work out right and she’s had a tough time of it. Who is she, Flash, and how did she happen to know about this place?” He had carried a dozen armloads of wood before she announced the meal. The shad- were lengthening in the cafion when they had finished and Moran picked up his blanket roll. *“‘T’ll camp somewhere close at hand,” he said. “I'll hear you if you call. You can decide in what way I can help you and I'll hear the verdict in the morning.” so ol upset

ows

“Oh, don’t go!”’ she said. “Stay and talk to me. I’ve been alone too much. There’s some horrid beast that screams here in the cafion nearly every night. I want you to tell me what it is.” Their conversation had been a little trite, limited to formal remarks, and Moran*now welcomed the opportunity to break the ice by speaking on this familiar topic, which was almost a hobby with him. He opened the door. ‘*Let’s sit here,” he said. things will soon begin to talk. I'll try to interpret their notes as they come. There's probably one man out of ten thousand who really understands half of what he hears in the woods at night.” They sat together on the sill and Moran told her many things. He realized that the girl had stayed there night after night alone, assailed by all the imaginary dangers that besiege the mind of each novice in the hills He explained away many man-made super stitions surrounding the creatures of the wild. Flash wedged in between them and as they talked he felt the dying out of that the lessening of restraint be “The wild strangeness tween them. ‘It must be a panther, I think,”’ she told Moran. She noted the almost imperceptible shake of his head. ‘“‘Why not? Don’t they live here?”’ she asked. ““Yes—only they’re called lions here,” he said. ‘‘The panther, puma, cougar and the mountain lion are the same animal, only differently named according to locality I’ve known and studied them under all four names. I’ve lived in hopes—but I’ve never yet heard a panther scream. I have inquired of scores of reliable, observing men who have spent their lives in the North- west where the lions range; in the des- erts of the Southwest, the range of the EVENING POST

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All dealers in housewares sell Pyrex. The price of PYREX Gift Sets is $6.00 in the east, $7.00 in the west, and $9.00 in Canada. Always look for the PYREX label and the name PYREX pressed in the glass. : Ask your dealer in housewares for the Pyrex \ Booklet, ‘‘New Facts About Cooking,”’ or send f, . his name and address and we will post it to 4 A. you free, ‘ Pyrex Sales Division CORNING GLASS WORKS World's Largest Makers of Technical Glass 506 Tioga Avenue, Corning, N. Y CREE OOOO “ne oOo THE SATURDAY EVENING POST cougar; theswamp and hardwood country of the Eastern panther; and in Mexico, the home of the puma. A very few of them have told me that once or twice in their lives they had heard a note which they believed to be that of the panther. Even they could not be sure.” Flash suddenly pricked up his ears and attempted tosqueeze past. Moran pushed him back as a low wail issued from the timber. ‘Flash knew there was a tragedy going on out there. Guess what made that sound,’ | he urged. “A wildcat,” she guessed. “*A rabbit,” said Moran. “‘That was his dying scream of fear. Few know that a rabbit makes a sound. Most men would have guessed as you did. That cottontail was probably struck by a weasel or by an owl.” A weird, unearthly squall floated down from the bald ridge that topped one wall of the cafion. ‘There!’ said Moran. ~-_ lynx,” she said. at | fox,” he corrected. “Try again.” “Long ago some | curbstone naturalist who owned a poodle | note was a yap. | hundred miles. dog announced to the world that the fox They've been yapping ever since. That long- drs awh maniac squé all is their real note—call it a yap if you like. I rather thought we'd hear a fox and that it would prove to be the sound that had worried you. That wasn’t it?” The girl shook her head. “Not in the least like that,’’ she said. ‘I can’t imagine what else it could be.” Moran was puzzled. A sudden thought struck him. He remembered the dead cow elk with the severed hamstrings, recalled the sudden hush and cessation of animal sounds that had occurred as he lay on the far slope of the Wapiti Divide—the silence that had told him of a distant wolf howl. He looked round for Flash, but Flash had squeezed past on the other side of the girl and was gone, “I think I can make a pretty accurate guess as to the source of that sound,” he said. ‘‘Our old friend Flash has been out with the wolves and found his voice. If he inherited his father’s ery it was the lobo call you heard.” Flash!”’ she exclaimed. ‘‘Why, Flash couldn't make such a hideous sound! Oh, surely it wasn’t Flash!” ‘I’m inclined to believe it was,”” he said. You see you've had the most dangerous beast in the hills right with you all the ume. “ “Flash dangerous! he’s not dangerous! alive.” “And for that very reason he is posi- tively the most dangerous beast within five Flash has all of the killing power of a lobo wolf, but without a wolf's blind fear of man. Flash fears men intel- ligently, can gauge their power for harm. He knows their tricks. Instead of fleeing in a panic from the first taint of man scent he investigates it. Then he knows! Of course Flash wouldn’t attack men indis- criminately—he’d have to be spurred on by some strong dislike of one individual, but if he held a grudge against some man well I'd hate to be that man and have Flash find me somewhere asleep or traveling through the hills at night.” ‘It doesn’t seem possible that he could harm a man with only his teeth to fight with, ” she insisted. “Only his teeth!’ Moran exclaimed. “Yes, that’s all. You've not the slightest conception of what those teeth of his can do. They cut like knives through the hide muscles and even the hamstring cords on a bull elk. I’ve known him to kill elk, deer, antelope and mountain sheep. Only a few months ago there was a five-hundred- dollar bounty posted for the scalp of the worst lobo that ever struck Wind River. Flash was that wolf. I shouldn’t have left him. Ask Kinney. He tracked the Wind River wolf more than a hundred miles on a new snow and found Flash at the end of the trail. Youand I are the only ones who know he’s alive to-day. What chance would a man have against a killer like that if he didn’t have a gun?’ The girl's mind traveled swiftly back toa certain night when she had heard screams and oaths behind her as Flash fought half a dozen men to give her time. She had hada vague idea that his snaps and snarls had retarded them until she was out of hearing. Now for the first time it occurred to her that he had struck them so savagely that they had feared to follow her through the night. she cried. ‘‘Why, He’s the smartest dog November 29, /9/9 “Would you sell Flash at any price?”’ she asked. “No,” Moran answered instantly. “‘ He’s yours. I lost my title to him when I left him behind. I knew he would hate it in the city and I expected to be away but a week or two. He turned outlaw, was hunted all over the range. He showed up here and attached himself to you. I have no claim to him. He belongs to you.” The girl held out her hand to him. ‘Kinney told me that all men like you,” she said. “‘Now 1 know why: ‘They don’t make ’em any whiter than Clark Moran,’ was what he told me. I indorse his state- ment. And I want you to know that I con- sider that the very nicest present I ever had.” ‘That repays me,” he said. “And thank you for talking to me instead of questioning me. Of course you know that I have a definite reason for being here. I'd tell you if I could. I think I know now how you can help me if you will. If you will stay near here until Dad Kinney comes, then send him here to me—is that too muc h to ask?” ‘I intended to camp within a few miles of here,”” he smiled. ‘So you're asking not hing but what I would have done in any event. Just one question, please?” She nodded assent. “If I'm to camp here—how shall I ad- dress you? As an aid to conversation, you understand.” “I'd rather you didn’t know my name,” she told him frankly. ‘* At least not all of it. One of my reasons for being here is to try to forget who and what I am until I can reason things out coolly. That’s why I don’t care to hear my name spoken over and over again. But as an aid to conversa- tion—Betty is the only part of my name I care to hear. You may call me that if you like.” said Moran. He picked up “T’ll bunk just outside.” ‘Thank you,’ his blanket roll. it storms come inside,”’ she said. “Circumstances alter cases and I’m not priggishly eonventional, you know. Good night.’ Moran knew that there was no least touch of coquetry in this permission to use her given name. There was some deep-rooted reason why she shrank from hearing the rest of her name. When he knew that reason he would know why she was here. He had scarcely spread his blankets when a sudden shiver shook him as a cry rang out from the rims above—the lobo cry, the most chilling sound of all the wild. It was tossed from wall to wall of the canon, its echoes dying slowly away among the peaks as the diminishing ripples caused by a thrown rock die out against the far shore of a quiet pool. Moran heard the girl call softly from the cabin. ‘Do you still believe Flash could make a sound like that?” “I’m sure of it. other.” ‘It’s rather a dreadful sound for so lov- able a dog to make,” she said. ‘But now That was Flash—no that I know it’s only Flash I need not shiver when I hear it again.” She heard Moran laugh softly. “You are mistaken,” he said. “If you live for a thousand years and hear it every night it will always be the same. You may not fear it—but the wolf shiver will shake you each time it sounds.” For the first time since her arrival the girl failed to bar the door at night, but left it swinging open—mute evidence of her abso- lute confidence in Moran. Half an hour later Flash touched Moran’s hand with his cold nose, gave one brief sniff and went inside to the girl. He sat beside her bunk, his chin resting on the edge while she stroked his head. “‘Flash,” she whispered. ‘‘Flash, why couldn't it have been a man like the one out there—like Clark Moran?” Flash trotted outside and lay beside Moran. “You old rascal!” said Moran. “Just look what you've led me into now! I be- lieve I’ve found her, Flash—I know it. Isn’t she a little beauty? Don’t you dare tell me you ever saw a woman who could compare with her! Any girl I’ve ever met would seem drab and commonplace beside her. What do you think about it, Flash?” Flash only thought that he was vastly contented. Nevertheless, he was restless and spent the main part of the night in prowling uneasily back and forth between Betty and Moran. TO BE CONTINUED

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Sanaa He THE SATURDAY EVENING POST \ — My on TO MERCHANTS—We desire your he Ip for the distribution of K-C Junior Radio Wire for our proposition The Pinnacle Present for Boys K-C Junior Radio—with a Two to Four-Mile Range—Assemble It Like Engineers Do the Large Commercial Sets—Real Apparatus for Real Boys Nothing sO grips a boy as that which chall nges his imagination — his alertness —his attention. Radio does these very things And that is why every boy wants a set. Just think of being able to send and receive real mes sages —flash them into space - draw them out of space. It even challenges the mature mind. No wonder thou sands of vigorous youngsters throughout the country have labored to produce a set with their own hands! No wonder a million or more of them seize upon every piece of literature pertaining to Radio practice ! Now that thoroughly practical Radio has been made available, no boy should be denied a set. A World Factor The heroes in many of the biggest events of the last several years have been Radio experts. And as Radio development progresses, their opportunities will increase They will hgure in thousands of world dramas Many History will record the Lives, ships, commerce, business firms of them will win lasting fame. names of many. and perhaps even nations will be saved by them. Where is there a regular boy to whom this does not appe al? Dependent Upon Boys Radio development is still in its infancy. But a fraction of its multiplied uses has been found. We know this through operating the large st plant in the world for the manufacture of Commercial Radio. And that is why we are producing and s lling K -¢ Junior Radio at prices that do not permit a normal manufac turing margin. We prefer to invest in the boys of America instead of incre ising our experimental facilities For our contention is that the boy brains of this nation, when plac ed behind Radio, will greatly spec d up normal developments make accomplishments possible for this age that ordinarily would come in the far distant future And to aid in this work, the earnest cooperation of parents 1s requested. We have made K-C Junior Radio available. And now, no father or mother, we feel, should require much urging to get a set for their boy to expenment with and study No Toy ee Junior Radio resembles large commercial Please do not confuse it with the flimsy toy tht you may have seen. K-C Junior Radio is practical t gh and through It must be set up ’ ing any bnght boy ca l Tt is t familiarize him with the fundamentals of Radi practice the finest possi! le exercise for the mental faculties \ tof K-¢ Junior Ra lo w ll devel f a boy in ways not y cise car a factor no parent with a real interest in his boy sistently can | verTioe Send for Catalog we operate the largest plant in the w i for the manu Radio, only a limited am t of space an be de C Junior Radio. We should like to make a set this very boy in America But this is i i ible Less boy in five can be suy i lied This means that early an absolut necessity find K-¢ Jur many fores they are ut in # distr arry it in your town ll supply you direct howing the different sets, is free. Send for it before | ‘

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156 TEE SATURDAY EVENING POST November 29, 1919

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THE SATURDAY EVERYBODY’S BUSINESS Concluded from Page 40 covering other sciences. For example, the war showed plainly that we know too much about poisons and explosives and too little about democracy and coéperation. Science is all very well, but with an understanding of physical science we must likewise have a knowledge of political science to control the wonders we create. Some of our recer inventions are marvelous, but they will prove to be nation destroyers unless we pay more attention to mastering the facts and principles of human relationships. ‘Everyone knows that social conditions throughout the world are not perfect, and only a fool will argue that they ever will be perfect. However, it is inconceivable that modern intelligence will fail to reduce greatly the number of human miseries that now afflict us. The fact that 33 per cent of all the people who reach the age of 25 die before they are 60 is purely a sermon on health, but a further fact which shows that of every 1000 men who reach the voting age only 115 are self-supporting at 60, and the remaining 535 still living are dependent on charity or relatives, is a stern condemna- tion of the social system we live under. “Over in Egypt 4000 years ago decay of the teeth was as rare as decay of the | To-day we can soar through the clouds, but we wear false teeth. This evolution of our chewing apparatus is somewhat of a puzzl to me, but the evolution of management from the days of serfs and slaves to the present time is as simple as mush. trouble is we don’t seem to want to unde stand. We see a lightning bug and mistake it for a conflagration Somebody hollers fire and we try to dig a well to put out the blaze.

yones

‘The big problem to-day is not equip- ment or salesmanship, but the fitting to- gether of boss and worker—employer and The future of all our industries hangs upon the human factor. We can go ahead only upon a new basis of complete ; yne must have his fair share of present profits and future oppor- tunities. These are fundamentals. Those who deny them encourage the preachers of revolution and strer ands of vio- lent radicals who would proceed along lines that are neither sound “Don’t mistake my meaning that salesmans} | employee

cooperatior Every

gthen the nor economic, in saying important. you can't ip is not so all I know as well as anyone that work if you haven’t markets, and the big ger your market, all things considered, the more y will work your plant each year. The other day I was talking to a man running a The periodic nature of his business rendered it difficult for him to keep his forces together in the off-season pe riods. Did he throw up his hands? I guess not! He sent a man to Australia, where the seasons are the reverse of what we have here. When we are wear- ing our white flannels they are going about in their ulsters. My friend is on the right track, and soon he will be filling Australian and South American orders during his dull Such foresight « gut the that the thing

ime ou so-called seasonal factory.

season ounts, fact remains biggest Is a sensible, just and progressive program of management. ‘Just because strikes nearly always were based on wage demands most of us were led to believe that money was really the cause of these labor troubles. Now we know that the dissatisfaction was frequently caused by something else—wages were only a pre- text. Strikes are at present taking place in industries where the employees themselves concede that the wages they receive are as high as can be paid. What they now want, and what they have always wanted, is a place in industry equal in dignity to that of the employer. With the introduction of steam the laborer felt that he lost caste, and he now demands that this fancied loss be made good. Only a small percentage of re- cent industrial plans based solely upon the policy of paying higher wages has increased he worker’s interest or lessened his dis- content, “One of the unfortunate things is that our American-born citizens fight shy of the They take to the farms and offices or engage in small individual enterprises Seldom do you find a native-born son at a machine in a big industrial plant. I do not mean that this kind of work is not done by American citizens; it is, but frequently they do not speak English, and their loyalty though often requisitioned is too commonly of a platonic international character. When the machine itself became the real worker and the man became the assistant to the hanical device the native American gi out. It used to be that we had all-round machinists; one of them could buik tire engine if you gave him the tools and the time. But at present man build even the smallest part of a truck or a tra tor; instead of the general worker we have a series of skilled machine assistant “When employers commenced to dis cern that their men were without st work they looked about and made the discovery that though their machines automatic their factories were One friend of mine found that he was hiring 2500 people each year to maintain an aver age working force of 900. He investigated further and learned that it cost him $85, on an average, to break in each new operator In other words, his labor turnover costing his company more than $200,000 annually. Other owners made similar dis coveries. Remedies were sought. S< cided to pay their men on the piece basi rewarding them.for what they did, not for the time they worked. Other managements tried to increase the interest of their em ployees by providing better living condi t A few evolved stock-purchasing plans and profit-sharing schemes. Some of these plans helped, but all of them together e not a cure-all. i-timer in the industrial gam thousands of trades.

an en no one nterest iIntere

were not

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‘lam an old-t and have managed many men. One thing at least I have learned There is 1 o worth-while industrial poli to-day but coéperatior No othe a is either sensible o ife

EVENING POST

Can you get 500 good shaves from every 12 blades? OW many mornings can you shave with a razor blade before you throw it away ? - The first day, smooth, clean shave. But soon after, shaving begins when the blade is fresh, you get a to dull the edge. Every day the dullness increases each succeeding shave becomes more and more uncomfortable. if shaving with a blade that is losing its first keen edge. With the AutoStrop Razor, you are guaranteed 500 Don't endure any longer the annoyance smooth, satisfying shaves from every dozen blades Built right into the frame of the AutoStrop Razor is a remarkable stropping device, simple and efficient, which keeps the blades sharp and keen fine, smooth edge of the blade to take the razor at few art renews the ina You don’t have the blade through the razor head sect ynds. or remove you simply slip the strop Begin tomorrow to get the comfort of a fresh, keen Ask your dealer today about edge for every shave the AutoStrop Razor AutoStrop Razor ~ sharpens itself

YuroSTROPSAFETYRAZORCO

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158 SUV OTURL SEU ERATL OD AEUGEUUECUSCTTU PURER LARGO OE CTTEUACU ODA CUCRIUELULUUCCORCUCULTLOUG CES CCOCUTUICINUICERICURODAUURAIUEUIAERASAULIIITALORAARIETEISLAGTD pire THE SATURDAY Tonys Th ut-away view tlustra the Rees Jack drive which eliminates end thrust and de strain and reduces friction lo a minimum douhie Worm g DouRie WORM GEAR privé THEN a tire goes down there a brief roadside delay if you have a lift the car. The put the Rees Jac k is only Rees Ja k to You keep out of the wet and folding handle assists you to slush too. long under the axle, and with a few easy turns of the handle the car is lifted quickly and held safely at any height. ‘| he ented and adopted here for the first time in any Jack, and unique double worm gear drive principle pat- together with our high standard of materials workmanship, accounts for the great power, and convenience of Rees Jacks. See You will dependability and try the Rees Jack at your dealer’s. want one for your own car at once. Jack No. 1, pacity) with long passenger car model, (2-ton ca- folding lt your dealer does not have the Rees handle gyoes readily into any tool box. Jack Parcel Post upon receipt of check, money order, or dratt tor $9.00. Price west of the Rockies $9.50, in stock we will send one to you prepaid by Iron City Products Co. DEPARTMENT 15 7501 Thomas Boulevard, Pittsburgh, Pa. Manufacturers also of Rees Double Worm Gear Drive Jacks for motor trucks, railway and industrial uses. UEDUPEHUUHUEER UE AE DOULORTOUUEUCT EERSTE CLSCSUGLOLDUDL OCR OUEDLOGURURTEADOREEEIEOUCDIRDLOUGAEOT DOT TT TTT | more than one hundred ingredients. EVENING POST November 29, 19/9 ONE THOUSAND DIAMETERS (Continued from Page 22) Spiders were good for malaria. If you have had any doubt in your mind as to what spiders are good for, now you know. Most people think spiders are good for eating flies and that flies are good for feed- ing spiders, but here is a use that perhaps you did not suspect. They are good for malaria. Just how they were taken, whether “drunke”’ or swallowed whole, was not mentioned, but you may depend upon it, whatever was particularly loathsome was good for something. “A good pouder for the’ jaundice is as follows: Take earthworms and cut them small and braye them with a little wyne so that ye may swallow it; drinke same fasting.” The last direction must have been a mis- take. It should have been: ‘“ Drink the same fast!”” Iti 7 possible that the doctor himself did the “ braying. And then there were snails. Fine ladies had their footmen gather snails in the gar- den before breakfast. It had to be before breakfast; after breakfast would not have done. These snails were pounded, shells and all: “To be swallowed for a consumption.’ Disease was thought to be a thing, an entity, something that entered into the body and must be driven out again by a remedy stronger than itself. Perhaps this idea had something to do with the size of the prescriptions. Some of them contained They | were built up by succeeding generations of | something doctors. Each doctor had to add one drug or more as his contribution to medicine or realize that his life had been wasted. After worrying about it for years, possibly, one day he would exclaim: ‘‘Gadzooks,”’ or “I’ faith,” or “By my halidome, I’ve got it!’ Then he would put into the prescription more terrible and loathsome than all the rest, and having done so, when | his time came he would pass the mess on to | first crude experiment in New |} treatment. his successor before he himself passed on, content that his life had been well spent. Cure by Royal Touch Those were fat days for the druggist. In 1676 Dr. Gideon Harvey, physician in or- dinary to Charles II, wrote: “T have oft seen bills of Apothecaries risen to twenty pounds and sometimes thirty pounds in the time of a fortnight. Not long since an Apothecary of our suburbs brought in bills to nine patients for less than three- quarters of a year’s physick amounting to | fifteen hundred pounds.” That would have been equivalent in pur- chasing power to about forty thousand dollars at the present day! All of which goes to prove that compared with his an- cient prototype the modern druggist is a piker. And then there method of torture. was blistering, a favorite It was probably the Thought It took the patient’s mind off his other troubles. Being so occupied with the new sensation he had no room for the old ones. Sometimes the desperate victim refused. “You must be blistered or you will die!” said her physician to the Duchess of Marl- borough. “T won't be blistered and I won't die!” said the strong-minded old Sarah, and she kept her word for many years. Scrofula was called king’s evil and was cured by the touch of the king. For hundreds, perhaps thousands of years people had clung to this belief, which was probably fostered by morare hstostrengthen their claims to divine right. Dr. Samuel Johnson was touched by royalty at the age of four, but it did not rid him of his taint. Between May, 1662, and April, 1682, or twenty years, Charles II touched ninety- two thousand one hundred and seventy persons. One day a week, Friday, was given over to this touching ceremony, so he must have averaged a little more than eighty-eight persons at one sitting. On some Fridays, when it was necessary to make up for lost time, he exceeded the speed limit, touching more than two hundred and fifty victims of scrofula. But he himself was touched also, for it was the custom to give to each a small piece of gold, called the “touch coin.” Another favorite was bleeding. This was the first, the middle and the last resort. If the doctor did not know what ailed one and mostly he did not—he bled him. If he did know he bled him anyhow. A con- sultation resulted in more bleeding. Either the lancet or leeches were used, most prob- ably both—and often. Louis XIV was bled generously nine times for scarlet fever. In 1765 a London mob attacked the Duke of Bedford’s house. This probably caused the duchess to have an hysterical fit, for the next morning the doctors bled her. George Selwyn was din- ing one night at the home of Lord Coventry and fell, striking his head upon a marble table, causing a wound which bled pro- fusely. When the surgeon came did he lay George down, stanch and dress his lacer- ated wound? No, that would have been too simple and obvious a method for those days. He bled him, though Nature was doing the same thing herself! Abominable Prescriptions Ambroise Paré was a celebrated surgeon of his time--earnest, painstaking and inde- fatigable in his search for truth. But truth held her face averted. Paré having heard that an Italian surgeon had a wonderful dressing for wounds determined to get the secret. He gave up his practice, left his home and served a two-years’ caygeatee ship with the Italian. He says: “In the end, thanks to my gifts and my presents, he gave it to me. Then was I joyful and my ie sart made glad that I had learned his remedy.” Triumphantly, his soul filled with high enthusiasm, he took it back home with him and no doubt used it upon wounds there- after for the rest of his life. This marvelous remedy, to learn which he had served two years and given presents and gifts, might have been used upon Johnny’s foot if he had lived in those ee. It was composed of ‘Young puppies, boiled in oil of lilies, and earthworms prepared with Venice tur- pentine.”’ But most probably the attending surgeon would have used a ‘“‘sympathetic’’ powder. A sympathetic remedy is one that heals by sympathy. That is, it does not come into contact with the wound at all. One removes the bandages that have been applied as a first-aid dressing and dusts them with the sympathetic powder, then lays them away in a corner cupboard and the wound begins at once to heal. You don’t believe it? They believed it in the seventeenth century, as the following narrative will attest: In 1687 a certain knight attempted to stop a duel by stepping in between two adversaries. Like many another well-meaning go-between before and since he got the worst of it, of course, receiving a serious sword wound in his leg. Then he promptly sought the attention of a surgeon, who treated him for some time without accomplishing anything. In fact, under the treatment the knight grew so much worse that he began to fear for his life; also he began to think that he was not getting the right treatment. So he paid off and discharged this surgeon and called in another. Under the treatment used by this second surgeon the wound began to heal and even- tually our knight became entirely well. But when the second surgeon presented his bill for the treatment the knight refused to pay him, though he had paid without question the bill of the first surgeon, who had not benefited him. Naturally, the second sur- geon entered suit to recover his fee. And we should be grateful to the knight for his obstinacy, because the records of this trial— and especially the judge’s charge to the jury—give us a most interesting account of the medical knowledge of that day. The judge was one Sir Thomas Street, Knight, Justice of the Common Pleas Bench. If Sir Thomas never did anything else in his life, he made his fame immortal by his charge to the jury in this case. In those days a physician’s calling was too honorable for him to receive a fee for his services. He could accept an honorarium, which was whatever the donor wished to give, but never a fee. He could not sue, even if the patient refused to pay anything. But a surgeon’s calling was lower than that of a physician, consequently the judge de- cided in the beginning of the trial that the surgeon was entitled to sue. There is noth- ing further in the records to show that our (Continued on Page 161)

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST ’ Gillette Chifled Rubber Process Ordinarily—heat lessens a tire’s resistance, cold does the same. Then the bump and bang of the road finishes it up—puts an all too early end to its service existence. Now, note the difference. Gillette Tires and Tubes are produced with the Chilled Rubber Process. It strengthens the rubber—toughens it as iron is toughened when changed to steel — and gives absolute weather protection. Gillettes are not damaged by cold, heat or dampness. The result—Gillette Tires and Tubes save their strength for mileage production—they ride the rip of the roads longer and are the least costly. A test on your machine, one Gillette against three other makes, will convince you of Gillette’s wide margin of economy. GILLETTE RUBBER COMPANY General Sales Office 1834 Broadway, New York, N. Y. Factory—Eau Claire, Wis. 159

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160 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST November 29,1919 errr my ma oi AAA aN a er a = i} INU IS Refrigeration by Electricity— Practical as Electric Light Clean, dry, electric refrigeration in the home is an accomplished fact. JALHNNONULAIUVNIYUVUT HNL UAAUIIUIILEN TAL WTNH AR A Electricity which crisps the breakfast toast and lights the evening lamp Is also, with Isko’s aid, a cold-maker. ent} 2 3 4 Because it replaces the damp, unhealthful vapors of : melting ice with a dry, even, hygienic chill Isko be- : ea hu longs in the modern home. | The demand for Isko is large. Last summer we re- ; | ceived many more orders than we could fill. Next summer the demand will be even more. 3 | Now is the time to buy your Isko if you would avoid | disappointment later. The installation is simple. And once Isko is installed : your refrigerating problems are scientifically solved. Fs x Kor Isko’s dry, keen, constant cold protects food and 3 ; the family’s health. It guards meats against spoilage. -] It keeps cream and butter fresh for days. It keeps F vegetables garden crisp. It makes cubes of pure ice . | for table use. It is immaculately clean.. It is eco- B nomical and modern. £ : : A larger Isko is made for use in clubs and restaurants, = i 3 in meat markets and other commercial establishments. : F = ' : = * = THE ISKO COMPANY, /// HW’. Washington St., CHICAGO, ILL. : = l K = . : = , = ay ~O - = Fits Any Ice Box a 5 a E aL Je : en iii ili AAS iL

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Continued from Page 158 surgeon had a other decision in his favor This being settled to the the plaintiff, satisfaction of All the ing been presented on bot} > Cast proceeded des and the attorneys for both plaintiff and defendant having delivered their ad- dresses, the judge charged the jury. Re- viewing the facts as establi hed, he recited that the knight had been attended by the first surgeon, who used one of two approved methods of treatment. That is, approved by the medical profession of that day, which of course established them as ‘‘the usual and ordinary practice,” according to legal tern ot impro r, the knight had dismi e first surgeon and hired another expe ng to be treated by the sec n d Sir Thom " quite fully into both method f atment, but the second | ting, because it is difficult method 1 to beliey inyone could have had faith in it in ar y age. It of R in \ itriol, powdered and lried in the sun, and is not applied to the wound a ill The urgeon procureth a garter or ! with which the wound was first bound up, and sprinkleth the which is upon And the patient ls an intolerable shooting and blood dage powder upon the ne garter or fee iponi bar penetrating torment but this soon van- isheth— thenceforth all previous evil symp- ton the part recovereth its ( olor and manifest incarna- tion ar lidation ensue. This is by ympathy maintained be- twixt the blood extravasated and that yet erved in the veir and of the overeign balsamie faculty of the vitriol. This is not pplied to the wound, but is allowed to have its perfect work apart. The garter is laid away in a cool place.” ere vou areé mple and rational. We the authority of Judge Street for it also effective But the ignorant, ystinate irgeon would have none of it, ough all his professional brethren sanc- adand app ed it Now the plaintiff did naught save wash nd tend the wound. He used no sympa- etic | ler or « nent In the Age of Theory ;no such thing spite of his a magneti al reme ly in medical brethren. He said that Nature would do the work herself if she were let lone and the wound merely kept clean But he put himself far be yond the pale of profe yn when by pure reasoning he ecast the germ theory ‘He even hath in his mind some crochet that pus is engendered by some animal or I nt yme bug or grub or beetle or fungus hy though he saith he cannot prove the existence of such creatures.” Thomas was facetious there; a bit areastic. One can imagine the smiles and mirks on the faces of the court attendants ind the jury. But now his brow darkens ind in mpathy the features of all the grow hard and ter! It might be we ! the plaintiff to take heed, lest he be emned by the Holy Church!” Guilty not only of medic il iconoclasm but f relig Is heres\ Of course the de- ( was for the defendant The judge aid the surgeon did not deserve a fee any- ow, because by his own admission Nature had done the healing, and consequently Nature — not the doctor hould have the credit The most interesting part of this recoré is that a surgeon in 1687 should have had a germ theory of his own invention, though germs were not discovered until after the micdle of the nineteenth cen Doctors were no more ignorant than nose who pur ied knowle ige by other the seventeenth century the liver was supposed to be the seat of anger, the vy and the heart the habitat of love and courage, otner scien- tists believed in the transmutability of metals, in the elixir of life, in astrology, in magic and witchcraft. One year before the founding of Harvard College, or in 1635, a scientific work was published in which gold was asserted to be a combination of quick- silver and sulphur t paths. If ir spleen the home of ¢ THE SATURDAY EVENING POST The Witch Statutes of the Fr Code, which were enacted d iring the re ign of Henry VIII in 1542, were not re pealed until 1736. Mackey, in his memoirs of Extraordinary Popular Delusions, estimates that in Europe during the seventeenth cen- tury more than forty thousand persons were condemned and burned at the stake for witchcraft. The advance of knowk dge was retarded not only by the lack of scientific instru- ments, but very largely because of the hap hazard, speculative methods of that day This is well shown by the following ane« dote: Once King Charles II asked his courtiers ‘‘whether a vessel full of water weighs more if a fish is put into it.” This profound question started long and heated arguments lasting weeks. Finally it was decided that a live fish would not ir crease the weight, but that a dead fish would This conclusion was reached by the path of speculation. A long time afterward it oc curred to someone to find out by putting a fish into a bowl full of water. That was the path of experiment. The occasional genius who had the te merity to contradict the fathers of medicine met with very little encouragement. Tradi- tion died hard and truth had a difficult time ol it. glish Penal The friar, Roger Bacon, i iid to have pec tacles and to have cor structed micro copes ar d teles« He was rewarded by ten years’ imprisonment. great invented ype : First Knowledge of Cell Life Vesalius, the great anatomist, wastwenty- eight years old when, after laboring five years, he published his book, The Struc- ti Human Body. But he had dared to contradict Galen and he brought down upon his head a storm of indignant protest. In disgust and disappointment he destroyed all his unfinished manuscripts, rave up his studies and left Italy, never to return. Harvey published his di of the circulation of the blood in 1628 and the re- ilt was a cataclysm of abuse and ridicule. Medicine was still struggling blindly in the fog of metaphysics. Haller, an eighteenth- century scientist, says in his book on Physi ology: ‘‘Our body is gradually built up of gelatinous or slimy fluid.”” And of ‘gelatinous and slimy”’ materials were the theories of medicine built up. “Up to the year 1830,” says Oliver Wen dell Holmes, *‘ Nature had kept over all her inner workshops the forbidding inscription, ‘No Admittance!’”’ It was in that year that the compound microscope was perfected. Then men be gan to see for the first time the minute tructure of the body and that we are al ture of the t overy such commonwealths of cells of variou kind and functions. Virchow, in 1858, went further still. He proved that all forms of life, whether ani tah mal or vegetable, are made up of cell Think of it! Whether germs or Germans, parsnips or potentates, all are single cells or bundles of cells. The microscope has revealed much more than the mir if our bodies. It has given us the which is a ite structure « germ theory theory no longer—of the origin of many disease It has disclosed the warfare that is waged continuously within us in the struggle for existence Now and then in the past a vl } lonary iiKe Freon of the seventeenth cent iry hazarded a gue But until the past four decades each was forced to ay with him that he ‘“‘could not prove the ex istence of such creatures.’’ Now for the first time in all the centuri can see our foes, and seeing, we know what weapons to use against them. Most disease garms belong to the lowe of vegetabie life. They infir tesimal, and yet they possess all the prop erties of the vegetable kingdom. Being fungi, they grow under the same conditions as others of this group of plant Needing a soil, they thrive best in poor soil and their soil is animal tissues broken down by previous illness or any of the many ditions that lessen the resisting power of the body. In the blood stream float little proto plasmic bodies called white which resemble the gelatinous form of #ni mal life-. the amoeba that floats in stagnant water. Like the amaba, the white cor puscles have a peculiar power of locometior our si we { orders are con corpuscle which is achieved by projecting a small part of their bodies and gradually pulling the 161 er Bigg er than Weather Greatcoats of Distinction OMBINED values of warmth, serviceability and fashionabl Excellently tailored and as distinctive north country cloth of which they other cloth just like Patrick Cloth. It is essentially country fabric made from the thick long-fibre wool of “‘sheep that thrive in the snow.” Look Patrick pA TRADE lines as the famous are made There is ho 1 warm north for the label It is a sure identification of f products made from this famous wool Whether Greatcoat {i Mackinau Sweater Blanket, Robe, Cap or Stocking, the Patrick label is the guide to quality warmth and satisfaction r cata show ¢ styles | with the Patrick ated true-t and ir 1, Bigger Than Weather Ask your dealer for Patrick Products. If he d not carry them let us refer you to one who doe PATRICK-DULUTH WOOLEN MILLS No. 6 Avenue A Duluth, Minnesota ¥ 4 Pu > ~ frum Sher »p that thrive in the Snow’ re Northern Wool

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162 “Smoother THE SATURDAY Faces’ aii ' } . = : “I Didnt Realize It Was Shaving!” Imagine a shave like this! You hold the razor to your cheek; one, two, three strokes; to your sur- prise there is none of the usual raspy pull. Your only sensation is the smooth, quiet gliding of the razor. Can the razor be shaving? You look at the razor and again in the glass. You feel your cheek—and find a path of clean, smooth skin. The razor has shaved —and with a new ease and comfort. Realize a Shave Like That! You can—with the Gem Damaskeene Razor. The Gem will give you a Smoother Face just as it has millions of other satisfied Gem shavers. - You'd understand why if you saw the way keenness is bred into every Gem Damaskeene Blade—keen as Damascus steel. You would see the special hardening, grinding and tempering processes—patented processes which edge each Gem Blade with a delicate keenness —a keenness that endures. 3 ; 3 Every time you use a razor you hope for a smooth ; face. Every time you use a Gem, you are sure of a : Smoother Face. Buy a Gem today. Try it in the 3 morning. Learn what it means to be able to say : about your razor, “I didn’t realize it was shaving.” ss # ) | Nl hed 8 z What is the proper stroke in 3 shaving? Why should you | rub in the lather? Should the water be hot, luke-warm or cold? You'll find the answer to these and other shaving questions in ‘‘Smoother Faces and How to Get One.” Ask your dealer for a copy. $100 The Stand- ard Gem Set includes frame and handle, stropping device and seven Damas- keene Blades in compact, velvet- lined case. Other Gem Sets up to $10. ys dh cM GEM SAFETY RAZOR CORP., New York Canadian Branch: S91 St. Catherine Street, W., Montreal ee qi. te ve mena POUR LUO Sh ALFA ARUN HE HT | rest after it. (LHL HIM EVENING POST They can penetrate the walls of the smallest blood vessels, the capillaries, and wherever there is trouble there they congregate in great.numbers, because they constitute the army of defense. Between them and disease germs, or bacteria, is waged the ages-old war for supremacy. Bacteria enter the body by one channel or another, get into the lymph stream, or the blood, and finally into the tissues; or they may gain entrance directly as the result of injury. Their presence sets up an irritation and the intelligence is flashed to the nearest headquarters. At once the local blood stream becomes congested and battalions of the defensive army hasten forth. What really happened when Johnny cut his foot? It is all an open book now, be- cause the microscope has revealed it many times. Four things occurred in rapid suc- cession——redness, swelling, heat and pain. This combination of events is called inflam- mation and is usually regarded as a sinister process, though it is really the result of Nature’s attempt to guard us against destruction. Here is the sequence: The injury caused an irritation of the nerves of sensation and they communicated with the nearest nerve substations. From these word went out to send immediate assistance to the frontier. Then the streams that transported the army of defense became dilated, more blood was rushed forward and with it the troops—the white corpuscles. As they approached the spot they left the main current and adhered to the capillary walls. Then gradually they penetrated the walls by that curious power of locomotion which they have and assembled in battle array to repel the invaders. The redness, swelling and heat then were caused by dilation of the capillaries, exuda- tion of blood and corpuscles into a ¢ ‘onfined space. The pain was the result of the orig- inal injury to the nerves and of the pressure upon them in the swollen tissues. Wherever an injury occurs to the body, whether there is an invasion of germs or not, the same defensive mechanism is set up. Pain, however, is not so constant or so severe in the interior as upon the surface, because the frontiers are crowded with sen- sitive sentinels—the nerves of sensation. These may be entirely absent from the inner citadels. But dirt was introduced into the wound and with it certain bacteria. Johnny's mother removed all she could by scrubbing and she applied iodine to destroy the rest, but obviously she could not destroy them all. The remainder must be attacked by Johnny’s defensive army. This fight is called phagocytosis. The Conquest of Malaria In such a fight the home-defense soldiers engage in single combat like the knights of old. Meeting a germ enemy, the corpuscle enfolds it just as the amoeba surrounds its food and a struggle begins. If the corpuscle is the stronger, the germ is destroyed and digested. But if the latter is especially virulent or our champion weakened by one cause or another, victory goes to the enemy. The germ then begins to subdivide, in- creasing in nurnbers until finally the cor- puscle disintegrates. Multiply these single combats, which the microscope has enabled us to witness, by hundreds of thousands and you may under- stand the battles royal that occur in our bodies when our army is called upon to defend us. With some of the myriad forms of bac- teria we rarely come in contact; with some we are freque ntly in conflict; and others like the poor—are always with us. The fact that we have survived implies that we have within us a resisting power that has given us innumerable victories. This re- sisting power or immunity may readily be broken down by improper living, worry, overwork, —_ rnourishment, insanitary surroundings; by dissipation of any sort, whether mental or physical. When our immunity is weakened the white corpuscles have an unequal fight and the processes of disease make inroads upon our health. This knowledge of the causes of infec- tious diseases has enabled us to bring an- other weapon of defense to bear upon them, because we have learned also their methods of transmission. This weapon is prevention. Until 1880 malaria was supposed to be caused by a miasma, a vapor rising from swampy ground after sunset. But in that year a French physician, Laveran, found November 29, 1919 the germ, a low form of animal parasite. But the cause of its transmission, the anoph- eles mosquito, was not discovered for years after. Also the transmitting agent of yellow fever was found to be another kind of mos- quito. Since these discoveries destructive campaigns against mosquitoes have gone forward and mankind is free. One of the plagues sent down upon Pharaoh as a punishment is supposed to have been bubonic plague. It has always ravaged Asia and at times it has swept over Europe. A peculiarity of this disease was noted as far back as Herodotus. An out- break was always preceded by a similar epidemic among rats. Not until the year 1890 was the cause found, the bacillus pestis, asmall rod-shaped vegetable germ. But harder still to dis- cover was the connection between the rats and the plague. But this is the sequence of it: The rat has his own kind of flea. If the rat has the plague the fleas become the tem- porary hosts of the germ. After the rat dies his body becomes too cold to be a habitat for the fleas and they seek other scenes and pastures new, sometimes human The germs of plague are so virulent that it is only necessary to crush an infected rat flea against one’s body to acquire the plague And this—to paraphrase a_ celebrated classic—is the sequence of the transmission: bodies This is the germ of bubonic plague This is the rat that had the germ of bu- bonic pl gue. This is the flea that bit the rat that had the germ of bubonic plague. This is the man who caught the flea that bit the rat that had the germ of bubonic plague. Simple enough now to exterminate the plague by destroying rats! One by one the lurking places of disease have been disclosed and their strongholds stormed and taken. Give Nature a Chance For us bubonic plague and typhus fever have merely historic interest. Even small pox has lost its destructive power. There are thousands of doctors in the United States who have never seen a case. Ty phoid fever—thanks to sanitary measures and to the use of typhoid vaccine—has ceased to be the menace that it once was The mortality from diphtheria is rapidly reaching the vanishing point. And so one might go on enumerating the former ene- mies of mankind that have been van- quished—until one comes to tuberculosis Will tuberculosis ever be stamped out? That depends. The difficulty is greater be- cause the common carrier of the germ 1s man himself. He cannot be destroyed like rats and mosquitoes, so he must be taught But with this disease, more perhaps thar with any other, there is one mitigating fact Everyone, or almost everyone, has been in conflict with the bacillus tuberculosis Having survived to adult life, he has re pelled or his de fensive force have re- pelled for him— many times the onslaughts of the enemy, and by his victories he has acquired an immunity that must be broken down be fore he is vulnerable. The breach in one’s defense may be caused by other disease through no fault of his. But more frequently it may rise from improper liv- ing, overwork or ‘dissipation. And so, due to the microscope, the causes of disease have been discovered and the means of prevention disclosed — and all this within forty years. But the fact which should especially interest all of us is the doctrine of immunity—that we have within us certain defensive forces against these enemies, forces that we can strengthen or weaken as we choose. In many the fight will go for us or against us, de- pending upon what we do. A whole epistle upon this subject could be condensed into two words: Live right! Not too hard, not too easy; not too fast, Cases not too slow—temperately, moderately, happily. Bromidic? Surely! But so are all great fundamental truths. Nature is the great preventer, the great restorer—that is, the force within us. In that seventeenth- century trial quoted at considerable length in this article the physician had asserted that Nature had done the healing; that he hadonly kept thewoundclean. JudgeStreet remarked with sarcasm but with greater truth than he knew, “‘ Then Nature deserves the credit!” Very well, give Nature the credit! give her a chance! But

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST 163 The Penalty # Quality Fi eee Ot, 17 y # In all fields of endeavor there are MELE a “ oneor more products whose innate FSMOT ELIE! td . 4 . E goodness has placed them in a laf ® class by themselves. Hi di \ fe t Wie In their making, quantity has been : RN a necessarily sacrificed to quality. Such is always the penalty. Each producer must select his guid- ing motive, whether it be quality, large production or lower price. There can be but one real motive. In the building of the Horse-Shoe tire, we too have had our motive and have paid the penalty. Three thousand dealersand overa million motorists have, by their continued loyalty, paid tribute to our choice— QUALITY. g na Remember th a 7 a, S Horse-Shoé fread ef RACINE AUTO TIRE COMPANY, RACINE, WISCONSIN EXPORT DEPARTMENT, 144 WEST 65th STREET, NEW YORK

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164 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST Saas | | ee iF. Five Hours on Its Own Momentum— IVE hours of motion without power! Almost un- believable,sucha statement, but neverthelessa fact. In this instance, the revolving field of a fly-wheel type alter nator—one unit of a motor-generator-converter set — is mounted on ball be rings On four sensitive bearings a weight of 44,000 pounds whirls 900 times a minute. Fafnir Bearing ¢ Gurney Ball Bearing ¢ U But so slight is the friction that the field continues to revolve five hours after power is shut off. The same ball bearings used in monster generators are found in electrical machinery of every class, even down to the magneto of your automobile ignition system. And by further search, there is no field of industry where you will not find this scientific principle employed to defeat friction in the bearings of revelving mechanisms. H Bright Manufacturing Co >. Ball Bearing (Strom) Mfg. Co MANUFACTURERS OF QUALITY BALL BEARINGS November 29,1919

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THE FIRST LADY OF CRANBERRY IS 3 ¢ ag of. It will take a better Whalen to cross swords with Hat she’s cleared for action. He “ach; no, nor he ain’t got the asurements.”’

Tyle r, ain’t got the chest me once

I hear she don’t wear no support of any d.”” cd dor *t need no support. Look at that arm, for one thing. It hangs to her

knee, 7 was goir ig to say, and all clear yel- low fat and muscle larded on all the way down. Yes, sir, she’s got one of those arms that if there was hair on it, except here and there a little brine fu; z, you would think a

( rilla had hold of you, hugging you.” ‘If spots count fee anything,” said Mr. 7 interested, “‘she’s got more the She’s got freckles ) big round as a quarter of a Aang my wife tells me. But why is t, will you tell me, that somebody has to hot wat er the whole blessed

er with ! real gor xd com- rampage,” said know when we ‘It’s just her way Hat’s pa when she isn’t on the Kimer thoughtfully. “I

ed to go to the same parties—she was an viul lid girl even then, but she hadn't een to sea at that time, and it warn’t to expected she’d have the development ri rot now, with that five-inch chest ex- | n and the est of it well, she'd sit ere taking it all and when it come ne to laugh she’d laugh as hard as any- Te but how she a it, she’d open her mouth wide as she e stretch, and there A in’t al d ing out rie ea

She jo of a woman if anyone Id: was | -’s last word on nat 1 ‘Still it seems hard to put an old man e that out of house and home on account f there being a small open account be- tween them,” eg sony Neeze. ‘Just be- cause he couldn’t lay his hands on hard cash at the moment. You take Pat, there's joney owing him, and then = is liable to win this next fight. A man in business like that, he is a good deal like a big wheel, I iv, and if u leave him to turn it over

yw enough you'll get back ninety-five per ent of what you have out; but if some- body comes : along and s it a shove and Jit downhill there’s no stop-

gins to roll ping it at ed Hat hi with a venge stand now when I he shame he does ; put her shoulder to that wheel ance,” said El “T under- not drinking to drown her errands and helps yut round the scow.”’ Mr. Furlong groaned, had sunk so low mer.

for seeing how he was fearful

of contingencie yet to come. When once i stone has been dropped in the ocean of er s troubles the ripples widen to the rid’s end. ‘I suppose we might cry ” he said pre sentiy as well laugh as

“Have a laugh now and then, regardles of all, I ;" said Eln yawning

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST Continued from Page 19 Three scow by days after the evacuation of his Patrick Whalen, the Assassin, his affairs were very tatu quo. Mrs. Tyler, according to all reports, was still holding the fort, putting out her pots, mornings, and hand-lining off the rock while Mr. Furlong was still taking her eatch from the Assassin’s defeated hands, and finding a market for it with fear and trembling. He burned the shells under cover of night as fast as he ived them, and shook the meats out, well minced, into ked ' ‘Leeches”’: but he felt, and the Jar m: that everything was hanging much wv

rece

with re by a hair. ‘Where i inquired bac helor ason, Jim Rackby all this time?” Elmer, who was still house. ‘‘Can’t keepir X someone pre vail on him to have a second thought and get that woman back on the high seas ¢ jg ‘i luck will have it, Rackby and I are off the hooks a little, on account of my pu t- ting that point,” said Mr. Furlong don't why it is thing has to come all at He was my star boarder too. You know he has always been a great hand f gin witha little something in his hand, like a halibut fin, maybe, and getting me to slip it into the pan for him. Tha s one of his expressions : Saat lip this into the pan, brown it up a little,” he says, like as ? KNOW every once. rcomu Nee Ze, aT d if it was an accommodation to the fish or sich a matter.”’ ‘He’s one that he dwells on his food more’n a little too,”’ Elmer said. “Say, he confessed to me once that he 3 it out what he will eat al by meal.” Wakes up in the night and plar the next day, me ‘He studies on it,’ answered Neeze. “He thinks nothing of coming in here with a codhead to be fricasseed, or more likely a shad to be cooked in pork scraps, and he down one side of the gives me the other side—to disa when that it comes to paying a price “Tl under tand he's tighter than dre am of heaven.” ‘Well, he come that racket once too many tim He creepec other night with a parce in vinegar, a! pounding it, to get it spine and rm me, see, eats clear amusers

soaked it six clean napkins where a man could edge his tooth into it, and two more napkins for under a hot plate. And Say, that old cruiser was wan- 1 here, foot loose, all the wt dering rour

I watched him out of the tail of my eye while he was ne up the lid of the ice strip of yme- itting himself a little ilder. 1 set out to say thing then, but 1 thought better of it. “Well, say, he was smacking his lips that good when he see me making an eyy batter to fry that tripe in—you know, to get that nice golden brown—and he sings out: ‘Hold on there, I didn’t mean for you to go to all that trouble : chest and « smoked shi

over

trouble at all, Jim; ‘I could tell as rable a what it was going see; because outside three scarce

he was mise of half a dozen ships, and four masted vessels, he ain’t got ly anythir so to kind of set h g that he can call his own; is mind to rest I said I

was making the batter anyway, and it wouldn't use much up on what tripe there was there, **So then when it come time he skewered a piece of that ir “ on point of his knife and he pushed it ; the bottom of the spider, an a ” says: ‘That is yours.’ ‘Thank you, I says. And figured up, so much for the biscuits, so much for the tea, so much for attendance and Bas ss ‘And I match y custare 1 pie ’ | said to him. , Say, open his eyes come! “*Custard pie?’ he says. ‘What are us? I didn’t have a piece of

acro

your tripe ‘Oh, excuse me,’ I says. ‘I see you forging intoa piece of it a minute I guess you brought that in your pocket.’ ‘Oh, that?’ he says That ipe and swallow. I just cut mea ago; but was oO! sample " ays “Was it good?’ ‘Well, ye he says. ‘I don’t know but it does taste a little moreish.’ F ; re where that «

ame from,’ ‘I ex a feast. No,’ he So he shook his head and says good a LIE It might weet to the mouth, ‘I better not humor myself. be jest ano ver case of but to the belly bitter.’ ‘Warn’'t I mad? “Asit was, I hadn’ Says t had it out of my mind for days that that man was at the back of all my troubles; and there I was whe 1 from Whalen telling me Hat would expect an i cre: ao af teas cents lot, po as it is she has been counts shorts M ilore, re jamming them right down my th consequence 1s L'\ don't kn¢ ing or going ‘Oh,’ I sings next sendit Z over a pound on the and wardless, and roat. The Lup, and I whether I’m com ve got all haire ww half the pig out, ‘that’s what the man

said that tried to swallow Hat ‘ whole.’ Don't you talk Hat Tyler to me!’ he yells. ‘I’ve had enough and to pare of that woman. I’msickand tired of the very name.’ “*You'll have more to do with her before you're I says. ‘You'll make a meal where you was only calculating to take a bite, Mister Gape and Sw a w herein,’ I says, ‘if you would bow the head and put her back on board that hip we could be waving our handkerchiefs to her by this time next week.’ done,’

“Say, down come his fist on that table, and up jumps the cruets like a squad of soldie rs, a d he sings out: ‘She "it never walk the deck of my ship again while 1 am in my right mind!’ ‘If that’s your story,’ I yelled bz ick at him, ‘you hunt up a new boarding place mister, Jest as quick as the Lord will let you.’ “So out he bounce: , na regular old- fashioned taking, and I haven't seen hide nor hair of him since.” “It’s jest as my Elmer's comment and } daughter says,’’ was “Everything is at sixes sevens with these new ideas about women’s places in the sun. It warn’t a week ago she said to me: ‘Women are going to be the rock men split on if they ain't careful’; and I don’t know but what she i right.” “I was reading not long igo,” id Mr Furlong “that they are gal ‘y up on tl trength 1 Seegin eo =. these ca usband beating, too, every Mrs. Kidder was telling me Hat \ she can lift a thousand pounds if the weight is set on her legs; and I wouldn’t doubt it “T’ve seen her come wkstove on her bac ot quiver od “Mr. Furlong only

to come ” up a sl ort ladder said Elmer

twas on t! ve ning home, spied t off t © ¢ | e he was keep iw no harm u ment and ied woman a . it thesia e pine ea ‘ irrent ‘ to the ‘ e and ppe were fa ru tothet l Vv f that « i ! vt } hes } en off » | ¢ } ‘ kk I ( i rt ol 1 rd H he las he wa t ) p he I erstand ‘ p f | f sid t ly W t king iW fr ‘ ( sash } er replied It fee go for i f Mr | er induiyeda one f he ] le i! mable i Lik be it doe ‘ ! We El: eT ( | ‘i irseill tot Everyt ry ht } e bee Terent once ip at ‘ | e expected t of het of Cranberry Isle at that t aid | , ng } turn I } » that ‘ Nhe \ ] i f ir tT \ hip of i] gli psed yu st there 1 ir unment f I to myself If e had told me in the old a that t \ how it was g bel yw ] ive t 1 them the lied wi the 1idi it During t passage Hat had let he line ru out, a it tr y er? white forearr the e bet her wander toar puiat f ‘

165

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1G6 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST “ATLA WE aif bez? UT 14% alli HW |, : Hy I! x | pI eM fie Switch to Girards ! You'd better switch to Girards. That's the way to Ever feel this way after a smoke? take the whirl out of your wits, straighten out your thinker and bring back the men- tal punch that knocks the kinks out of business problems. The Cirard Cigar never gets on your It never affects the heart, or the digestion. And at the a full-flavored soul-satisfying Havana smoke nerves. same time its that you'll enjoy right down to the last puff. Doctors recom- mend it—and smoke it too. Dealers throughout America sell Girards. The demand is so great that we have not yet been able tosupply all that are wanted. But there is a dealer near you who has Girards in stock. And it is worth your while to find him and put them to the test today. The “Broker’’ size shown here 2 for 25c Antonio Roig & Langsdorf Established 48 years Philadelphia Cri ReAeReD Never gets on your nerves » | the upper arm and the deltoids which gave such a deal of say-so to those firmamental shoulders. Even so an engineer will wan- der lovingly among the parts of some well- tried engine. “You and I could have set the world on fire, Elmer, at one time,” she said pres- ently in low tones. Pleasantly thrilled, Elmer seized the oars, which were sliding out stealthily between the tholepins, and grinned his grin of married-man remoteness. “Well, the wheel won’t turn with the waters that have passed, Hat,” he said. To ferry himself over to less questionable ground he immediately continued: understand Whalen is going round saying that the littlest man in the world can lick the biggest woman, if he puts his mind on it.” ‘Talk is cheap,” said Hat. “As a matter of fact,”’ continued Elmer, “T happen to know personally that he would like almighty well to leave town if it was so’s't he could. He has got to do some- thing to get over this political hitch before they will allow him to fight.” “Political hitch,” repeated Hat rumi- nantly. “* Well, Elmer, you ought to be able to find a solution of that. You are getting to be quite a politician yourself.”” Her eye beamed, she turned toward him, putting the flat of her hand on the scow’s deck. **As a matter of fact,”’ she added, “I am getting sick of this dangling off the end of nowhere myself, and I have just thought of a way to string them all on the same string. Let me whisper in your ear.” Half an hour later Elmer, fully in- structed, rowed away from the scow with a rather Serious expression, for he had been sent upon an errand. The nature of this errand, or mission, will best appear in its upshot, which was a joint visit by Mr. Rackby and the Assassin to the Sea Grill. Mr. Furlong, in truth, had not been the only one to suffer from Mrs. Tyler's tac- tics. By diabolic indirection they had at last struck home at the object of her hatred, and through his most vulnerable point, his stomach. Mr. Rackby was now suffering the torments of the damned. Mr. Furlong was the only man in town who seemed able or willing to cook to dictation. The old cruiser in his exile remembered those delightful hoverings round the stove in the days when he had had the freedom of the shop, those testings and consulta- tions and culinary crises. He remembered how after he had eaten he would sit picking his teeth and humoring his works, for his digestion was perfect, and the pleasure he had in that was second only to that of the actual operation of eating. His hands were then wont to fold themselves over his paunch cherishingly, and he seemed to suspend his being as if a sleepy charm possessed him. Wharf’s end was then the thing he sought. Alas for him, his food no longer sat well on his stomach. He sharked it up as best he could, and boarded round among the different eating places, but all the time he hungered and thirsted like a lost soul for Furlong’s cooking. By broken glimpses he had come to understand that Hat Tyler was the foundation of his misery. He felt her walking up his back like a force of Nature. Perhaps she had been less a men- ace when in harness than when loose, as the current in the wire is more easily fought shy of than the lightning streke. He would have had her back on the ship a dozen times, but he feared the jeering com- ments of the Tall Stove Club. Hence he counted it a piece of great good luck when the Assassin approached him with a proposition the gist of which was to recognize that they, together with Mr. Fur- long, were in the same boat, and ought to pull together. Mr. Furlong looked slant-eyed at them when he saw them coming in; but he al- lowed them to take chairs, and even, on Mr. Rackby’s solicitation, plumbed the depths of the jar marked ‘‘Leeches,” and came back with two good helpings, for the shipowner confessed to feeling a little sharkish, he knew not why. “What I am coming at,”’ said the Assas- sin, putting a luscious nz iked meat out of the big claw into his mouth—“here are three of us in the same boat, I take it.” He began to chew slowly, as the wheels of an engine start at a scarcely perceptible gait in their first revolution. “You all know how I am situated with regard to Hat Tyler. I owe her money; and where she is concerned I have been stepping along like a cat on a shelf of crockery, but the thing has got to stop.” November 29, 1/9/19 “T was thinking that same thing,” said Mr. Furlong. “I’ve stood all the nonsense from her I'm inclined to myself,” said the shipowner. “Well, those are my sentiments to a hair,” submitted the Assassin. “I’ve put up with her antics about long enough, and I’m going to call a halt. What I am saying is we might as well be killed for a sheep as a goat. My idea is to have a lobster picnic off the rocks there, early this evening, fora starter, just to get us feeling tuned up, and then rush the scow and use the power dory to tow it out into the stream. Leave the woman on Cri anberry, if necessary.” Mr. Furlong paled. “‘Isn’t a good de al being left to chance on this proposition?” he inquired. “Of course I'm not denying that you may be as physical as she is, when it that Fa “You let me alone for that,’”’ said the Assassin, beetling. ‘‘ You bring along lob- sters to fortify us, and a little something for priming, and that'll be all that’s re- quired of you, except I want witnesses that I handle her as a lady should be handled.” ‘*She wants to be handled with gloves if I’m any judge,” said Mr. Furlong. **I’m the best man with four or six ounce gloves in this state at the present mo- ment,” said the Assassin. ‘‘That’s the point. See? My wife has got sparring partners for me, and if we can get over this political hitch the bout will be pulled off early next month.” This proposition was addressed to Mr. Furlong at a moment when his moral re- serves were all but exhausted. He was will- ing t o go to the very edge of things if need be, to get himself out of the clutches of Hat 7 yi r’s embarrassing patronage. As it was now, he ran all the risk of be ing ¢ aught with the fruits of Hat’s sea labors in his posses- sion, and she had run her prices up unti! he no lon et rm ade even the shadow of a profit out of Whalen’s deliveries. Furthermore, his part would be passive, as the Assassin had suggested: a witness, nothing more. “‘Hat is one that she can stand a lot of grie f, though,” he suggested dubiously. “It’s well for her she can,” replied the Assassin. Early night, therefore, found the three conspirators in the lee of Cranbe rry Isle, but approaching it from the south side Neeze, reaching into the water at the tail of the boat, plucked out, dripping, a crocus bagful of lobsters, which he had been trail- ing astern. “Here they are, the beauties,” he mur- mured. ‘‘And these are lobsters that ar: lobsters—not that city kind that have to have elastics twisted tight round the joint in their claws, you know, to give them that nice look of being right out of the water, the way I have seen some of that tribe conjured with in times past.” ‘There's tricks in all trades,”’ answered the Assassin. “Il expect yours is no exception,’”’ Mr Furlong threw out with a searching look ahead. A little sea beach had rifted in here, and a dock was situated at its west- ern end. As he was making fast his painter to a cleat here Mr. Rackby said after clearing his throat: ‘‘What part of the island did you say Hat is living on?” “She’s away up at the north cove, answered Neeze. ‘It ain’t likely she would come through them woods at this time of night to see what was in the wind.”’ They stepped ashore rather gingerly, notwithstanding. The lobster oven con- sisted of two blackened bowlders set a foot or two apart and topped by a large square of sheet iron. A length of stovepipe rose at the rear. Mr. Furlong, throwing the crocus bag on the sands, called upon his Associates to cast about for driftwood while he started a fire in the oven. But he had no kindling. Now at the top of the beach and at the center of its are stood a row of abandoned little bath- houses, six in number, a leftover from the days before the hotel on Cranberry Isle had burned to ashes. The padlocks had rusted off the doors, and in some cases the staples had even pulled out, and the doors hung warping on their hinges and could not be closed exce pt with diffic ulty. Thinking that he would probably find cast-off wrapping paper in one of these rooms Neeze dodged in at the first door that came to hand and reached out to the wooden seat which he knew to be situated against the backboards. It was as black as pitch there, but he was no sooner in than (Continued on Page 169) comes to ”

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(Continued from Page 166 he had the sensation of being in the vicinity of a damp body of some descrip- tion, and, indeed, divers psychic flashes apprised him shortly that a human person- ality was lurkin ig at arm’s length. Though thus in a measure forewarned, his amazement was none the less genuine to feel the palm of his hand slide against a cold, wet round of arm stationary there, and rigid asa bar. Appalled, he drew back. The proportions of this arm left him in no doubt on the score of identity. It was the dreaded property of the first lady of the island beyond a reasonable doubt. Hat Tyler had manifestly slipped in here at the conch man of her evening swim. Before he could collect himself so far as to cry out or let the least syllable him the invisible lady contrived to seize him by the ear and hiss into it: ‘“* You let on that I’m here and your name is Dennis!” He found himself outside, on the sands again, and shaking like a leaf. At recollec- tion of the clammy enormousness of that impending divinity Neeze Furlong felt the chilly bumps rising all over his lean frame; and to dispel this qual ing fit he be gan to run hither and gathering wood at random from the drift line, with his knees knocking together. Hat was not, as Elmer had already said, one of these goosy women who go round acting on some silly impulse, and he knew that she would be as good as her word He fanned up a blaze abstractedly, while Rackby and the Assassin were tearing rockweed from the rocks, which they then laid on the hot sheet iron in great shining bunches. Fine puffs of steam went up. Presently Mr. Furlong slid the contents of his crocus bag into the bed of crackling weed, shaking the empty bag like a magi- cian on a magic shore. He then carefully buried the writhing crustaceans under another thick layer of weed Now he dropped in clams, now another layer of weed; on top of this a dozen ears of smiling yellow bantam corn, and a blanket of weed over all Now from this dome of wet weed a smell of cook ing rose, the effect of which on Mr. Rackby was to stir him like a romance. When he knew by steam escape yon that savor in the that the lobsters were fairly in the weed he drew his watch and sat down beside them, for this was their last bedside. Full twenty minutes must pass before he could rake away the weed and crack his way to the substance of those steaming mandibles., He sat holding his watch with the massive hunting case sprung open. Glints and gleams darted from the solid cable that moored it to him as his breath went and came, and his charm twirled under an agi- tated paunch Presently Mr. Furlong, who had his head under the sheet-iron cap puffing up the fire, heard the hunting case snap to. In- of a clam rake nd of weed tantly Rackby seized hold and bent over the “Give it another ten minutes for good measure; what do you say?” said the As- who began to think of that part of program that followed the meal. ‘Nonsense! These lobsters will never be mou sassin, the any better than they are right now,” re- torted Rackby, slavering. ‘“‘I may drop dead of heart failure in the next few minutes.” ‘Many a true word spoken in jest,” iid Mr. Furlong His troubled glance wandered to the line of bathhouses. Come, man, don’t put a damper on the whole party,” said the shipowner. Shaking off the othe r’s clutch he stabbed at the blackened fringe of weed and dragged out a lobster, whose hue had changed from slimy bronze green to that most alluring of vermilions In ah his twenty segments, his mandibles, his red antennew, foot jaws, fish claws, quick claws and numb claws, he was calculated to raise an epicure into the seventh heaven ‘What do you thir of him?” cried Mr. Rackby exultantly, waggling the swimming legs. ‘“‘Just smell that smell. Ihey never taste so good as when they are cooked in the weed here and get that little smoky taste intothem. Fall to, gentlemen It was a brave man that the first lob- ster, what? But he was performing a serv- ice to humanity just as much as Columbus was in coming to America Ain’t that lapping good?” He had laid one of the giant red Mmandi- bles on a white bowlder and was lifting a smaller stone to crack it when his eye en- countered the Assassin’s. At a pre- quiver of mistrust ran throug! ate all the same, once monitory THE SATURDAY him. The wind was in a new quarter, he perceived. Mr. Whalen’s mood of geni- ality had dropped from him like an out- worn garment. His eye smoldered and his jaw was thrust out. Moreover, he had got between Mr. Rackby and the dying fire, and the fact that one of his ears was bigger than the other had never before been quite so disagreeably conspicuous. “‘I’m sorry to see, gentlemen,” thick tones, ‘‘that these are short lobsters. “Shorts, yes,’”” gasped Rackby ‘Did you expect us to bring count lobsters on a frolic of this kind?” “I don’t know whether you know law on this point,” more hostile accents. ‘‘ Well, anyway, ig- norance of it is no excuse, the lawyers say. The penalty is a fine of five dollars for each lobster, and sixty days for conspiracy to defeat the statute.” he said in ” the “Oh, is that all that is bothering you?’ said Rackby, relaxing ‘Don’t worry on that score. There is nobody within five miles of here to raise his voice if we pulled every short out of the ocean. “Is that so?” queried the Assassin in deadly tones. ‘As it happens, there is somebody within tive feet.’ The pallor of Mr. Rackby’s face was brought out strongly by its contrast with the color of the huge claw he had just with drawn from his lips. “The man must be mad,” he said, turn ing to Furlong, who merely sat back in the sand, clasping his knees and murmuring: “t only wisht I thought so.” “He is out of his head,” continued Rackby. ‘Why, he is in the same boat with the rest of us, for the matter of that Hasn’t he been delivering you shorts him- self for days?” ‘‘Where are your witnesses?” inquired the Assassin ironically. Hat’s hand may now be seen in this Elmer was public ly known to be in good standing among the politicians. At Hat's instance Elmer had represented to the Assassin that if he wanted a license to put on his boxing show he must first do a little sleuthing. The politicians were banded to gether in an effort to save lobsters of any and all kinds— perhaps th rough recognition of the fact that they so largely depended upon them for votes. A test case was needed, Elmer had suggested plausibly. He had even pointed out to the Assassin that the lobster party would find Mr. Furlong in a more receptive frame of mind if coupled with a proposition to rush the This astuteness was not Elmer’s. It scow. was he who had outlined the frolic and its termi: ati on to the Assassin, but it was Hat who had outlined it to Elmer. Hat had even empowered him to hint that she could be moved to let go her hold on the scow by the same benevolent powers who were now at the helm of the ship of state ‘How is this?” whispered Rackby ““You mean to say you have got us out here under false pretenses? What was all that talk about rushing the scow — moon shine? You can’t mean that you are just a common spotter?” he concluded, going all over. ‘‘Why, you have been selling shorts yourself galoré “‘Where are your witnesses? the Assassin once more in blande Ap palled silence followed. T down, the moon had slid behind a darkness had flowed into the little cove, and a swirl of moist steam and live lobster-laden smoke filtered among the astonished and relaxed limbs of the spotted parties. At this moment, which marked the extreme ebb of their zeal for lobster frolies, all present distinctly heard the snap of a dry stick behind them. ‘Did somebody call. for witnesse cried Hat Tyler, coming forward She had stepped out of the bathhouse just as she was, in a blood-colored Adam cold inquired accents fire had got cloud, 9 suit which revealed her menacing propor tions as nothing else could. Nor were the fears of the three frolickers assuaged by that single feminine touch of an insertion of narrow orange ribbon at trunk edges and arm outlets and at the deep V the tanned bosom She floated over the b drift line at the top of the thistle in the wind, for as Elmer said she was wonderfully light her feet for a woman of her measurements. Swimming had done wonders for her in the way of co ditioning, and she was now probably near what would be considered a good ringside weight for one of her physique. She had just padding enough to shield the deeper bedded muscles from bruising and para lyzing contacts. on lack beach like a on said the pug in still | EVENING. POST LAM sll This Fe FR... THe... Ys + Rots ‘ wm . ee Lu a w a. op oy Pat May 19 of Rockies $11.75 WI9 except west gs tle eT « Te A . Pet y on a. ar a) ee ; o> “aos “i ce ae oer, splendid Table Lamp of Antique Bronze finish and glowing amber shade is a Christmas Gift which will be a favorite with A handsome Table Lamp is really the center of a room, and Santa Claus this costs no more for the electric fine lamp than it does year. current in s in an ugly one. _ c — The Miller Library Lamp is sold at its pres- ent low price because of the co-operative buying by large public service companies. Brooklyn Edison Co Chattanooga Railway & Light Co Commonwealth Edison Co. Consolidated Gas, Electric Light and Power Co Dallas Power & Light Ce. Subsidiaries of Heary L. Doherty & Co Eastern Shore Gas and Electric Co Edison Electric Ihuminating Co. of Bostha The Electric Shop The Hartford Electric Light Co. Indhanapoh Light & Heat Co. Kansas City Light and Power Co. Kansas Gas and Electric Co Little Rock Railway & Electric Co Minneapolis General Electric Co. Nashville Railway & Light Co. See this lamp at any display room or order FOR SALE Brooklyn, N. Y Chattanooga, Tenn Chicago, lil Bahimore, Md Dallas, Tex In various cities lp various cities Boston, Mass Providence, R. | Hartiord, Conn Indianapolis, Ind Kansas City, Mo Wichita, Kan Little Rock, Ark Minneapolis, Minn Nashville, Tenn BY Nebraska Power Co Pean Central Light & Power Lo Omaha, Neb fo various cities Philadelphia, Pe Portland, Ore Washington, 2. ( lo various caties in New Jersey Philadelphia Electric Co Portland Railway, Light & Power Co Potomac Electric Power Co Public Service Electric Co Public Service Co Sioux City Gas and Electric Co lo various cites in Northern Iiinors tour City, lowa Salt Lake City St. Louis, Me New York (ity Utah Power and Light Co Union Electric Light & Power Co United Electric Light and Power Lo And Electric light companies in other cities im the United States CANADIAN DISTRIBUTORS Toroate, Ont Lid Canadian General Electric Co nearest company who will send it express collect. as Edward Miller & Comp MERIDEN by mail from the

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EVENING POST A spurt of flame, as she drew near, showed the solid pallor of her arms stippled by a dazzling universe of freckles. A per- fect spatter of these charming blemishes was visible on those notable deltoids afore- celebrated, for example. Her knees were as square as a cen- turion’s, and red as coral into the bargain, where she had been hand-lining off the rocks for cod and kneeling on the thwarts of her dory to hand in the fish. On that bathing suit, the color of blood welling from the heart, phosphorescence appeared in millions of tiny silver sparkles as the woolen fabrie yielded to that chest expan- sion, which, according to Elmer, scarcely fell short of five inches. It was at any rate nothing short of phenomenal for a woman, since women are reputed just to sip the air y breathing with the upper lung cells only. PDO you mean to tell me,” she cried, “that you two grown men are going to stand there gawking, and let yourself be taken up by that looking thing without, so much as raising a hand in self-defense?’ Neeze could hardly say, though he wanted to, that the man who had them in charge was the very man they were relying on as a bulwark of defense against her own aggressions because of their daring thus to come poaching on her preserves He contented himself with saying: “ got the goods on us, Hat.” “I'll see if he’s got anything on me,” said Mrs. Tyler rudely. She took astep forward. The Assassin, in whose direction she had taken it, could not just back of her bare heels at the dents made in the sand. He moistened his lips and uttered dis- creetly: “‘ hope you’re not going to make it necessary for me to resort to force, ma’am.” The evening’s developments were as un- expected to him as to his associates. He was not at all reassured by hearing Jim Rackby suddenly yell: “‘ You was going to rush the scow, Pat. Rush her now!” “All right for you,” said Hat without turning. ‘‘I’ll attend to you in a minute, you creature, you! As for you, Pat Whalen, just what are your intentions?’ The Assassin, with an affectation of sang- froid whi h he was far from fee Fray merely said: ‘‘That’s for me to consider, Mrs. Lady “. ‘Well, so is that,”” Hat said, and without hilly-shallying further she poled her left into the cleft of his jaw, and he crashed, after spinning round like a whiffletree. **You’ve been aching and itching for it, and now you've got it,”’ she cried. Mr. Furlong, who had been looking through her elbow from behind, could not have told when the blow started, so sudden was it and so nicely calculated. The As- sassin, when revived sufficiently to have an opinion, swore that it took its rise right down in her heel calluses. He testified that the sensation he had when he was crowned in that unexpected fashion was more that of being stamped on by a hoof than poled down by a human arm. Springing up like a strong fountain through those swelling calves and those considerable thews and He’s ' sinews, the blow thence descended through her arm in a fine flashing spray of many- jeweled lights, mingled with phosphoric darts which her rapid breathing had stirred up in the brine-soaked Adam suit. “IT guess that’s first blood!” Hat shrieked. She began to shake and shiver with the reaction that will sometimes fol- low the first heat of battle. She told Lena Kidder later that that man declared to goodness, as soon as he could come to any kind of a realization, that he had been stabbed, and what gave him that notion was blood dripping off his chin, but it seems that was where Hat’s engagement diamond had cut him. It was a small stone, but it had been recut and given an up-to-date girdle, and as she said herself it was then for the first time that her satisfac- tion in it was pure and unadulterated since the distant day when Tyler had first, with might and main, forced it past the second joint of her ring finger. The Assassin, lying back in the sand, coughed feebly and said: ‘‘Ma’am, you certainly do pack a punch in that left hook of yours.” ‘Do Iso?” said Hat satirically. “Yes, you pushed across a haymaker for fair.” **Well, there’s the mate to it, then,”’ Hat retorted, and she brought round her other fist into view, with those mortal great fingers doubled together, and that ring with a cut stone in it, which according to Elmer’s version, in speaking of the affair to November 29,1/9/9 Pearl on her return, was about the bigness of a young toad. ‘Come on now,” she said, ‘will it be tame crow or more punishme nt? I warn you, before you start, the man that runs foul of me in the frame of mind I am in now is liable to strain his manifest. Don’t you dare hit me ponats she shrieked, for the Assassin had begun to dabble in the sand with his fingers and make an effort toward rising. ‘‘You good-for-nothing things, you, are you going to stand calmly by and see him hit a woman?” But the Assassin had sunk back again supine. ‘It might be a different story if I could get on my two legs again,” he groaned, but I can’t, and I guess it don’t make any difference who knows it.” “He would have,” Mr. Furlong told his wife afterward, “if only he hadn’t got that special twist into him falling down the way he did, and jest at the time he did. She catched him jest right for once, with one foot hooked back of the other.” “The very idea,” continued Hat, “‘of a thumping great man like you coming down here and rounding on these defenseless peo- ple with any such bag of tricks as that. Serve you right if it does get noised abroad that one weak woman made you measure your length. I guess as a champion the peo- ple that back you will find they have backed the wrong horse.” “Hat,” cried the agonized Assassin, “you wouldn’t have the heart —— Ain’t it enough to send me to the pleasant places like this without you must My heav- ens, if a whisper of this gets round I will never be able to climb through the ropes again.’ “‘It all depends on what are your inten- tions whe ther I bw nothing and saw wood,” said Mrs. Tyler. ‘“‘What about the charge you’ ve got against these poor men?” “Silent; silent as the grave,”” whimpered the Assassin. Mrs. Tyler said shortly: “I thought I would have you laughing on the other side of your face. ‘Rush her now,’” she re- peated, swinging venomously on her former employer. “‘So that was what you had up your sleeve in coming here? If I wasn’t suffering everything with this thumb I should be tempted to pt ut a worse crimp in you than the other one. You're all tarred with the same brush, every mother’s son of you. As it is, you can pick up your traps and go home, and let it be known that a woman saved your scalp for once.” “Let it be known ” whispered Rackby. “Why, Hat, don’t you intend to keep faith with Whalen here?” “I don’t know why I should,” said Hat. **Perhaps you will be so good as to tell me what I have got to gain by it? As it is, I don’t know, I’ m sure, W hich way the cat is liable to jump. A diversion was created at this point. Hat had been sucking for dear life at her left thumb joint, for, womanlike, she had tucked her thumb into the palm of her hand before starting that blow, and she was now suffering from the shock to the joint. “*T decl: are, I’m losing myself,” she cried. “Well,” E ‘Ime r told Pearl in concluding his narrative, ‘‘according to Neeze’s tell she hadn’t any more than got the words out of her mouth than she took a slump, and down she went among the jellyfish, as white as plaster. So there those three went to slapping her wrists and ankles, and rais- ing her up amidships, to their judgment, and letting her down again, and the like of that, and when that she opened her eyes Rackby says: ‘Hat,’ he says, ‘you're amongst friends,’ he says. ‘I want to know,’ says Hat. since?’ ***Jest as soon as you feel able,” he says, ‘you get your things together and go back on bard the Minnie Williams, and let by- gones be by gones.’ ‘‘So Hat she reached out one of those lovely great big arms to Furlong to steady her, and she says: ‘That’s two birds with the same stone in one evening, Neeze,’ she says. ‘And still people talk about women being the weaker vessel. Maybe she is,’ she says, ‘but she can show some of the men a clean pair of heels in a pinch, or I miss my guess.’”” ‘The only wonder is you wasn’t the third bird,” said Pearl grimly. Elmer drew down the lid of one eye, for there had been a gap in his narrative to Pearl: ‘That’s wherein I say,” he concluded, “that there ain’t nothing in this world that is against a full-bodied woman like Hat if only she ain’t against herself.” ‘How long

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST The Story the Hub Cap Tells One of the most important things to look for in buying a truck is this Torpedo Hub Cap--the distinetiy identifying mark of Sheldon Worm Gear Axles. Sheldon is the axle that is built on the Locomotive Axle Princip! the axle with the ball thru t be aring that il j lit by the pion oy ; of the country. No Sheldon Axl r becomes part truck until th enyul rs of both truck 1 on the propel Sheldon Axle and Spring Co. Manufacturers of Sheldon Axles for Motor Trucks énd Sheldon Springs for Automobiles and Trucks Wilkes-Barre 171 Sheldon AX LE FOR MOTOR TRUCKS

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172 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST November 29, 1919 Florida Warmth—for sale by the garment Why Mayo 10-rib knitting laughs at Winter’s Chill YEESE are honking their way Southward. The mercury J is preparing to flirt with low temperatures. Pumps are to b thawe | out. lPourt ts are reading booklets ; ib t | rida and Southern California. Kew of n run away from Jack Frost but all can laugh it wint il \Il can buy to-rib Mayo Underwear the underwear that snuggles up to your body so warm and cozy h translated into balmy breezes. \ what this ro-nb knitting in Mayo Underwear? \ b fab a fabric knit with to-ribs to the inch id of \nd it’s plain common sense to see that to ribs to th tead of ire bound to make a warmer, more j : . j } 4] ()f 1o-rib knitting has for years been found in ugh ; rweal But Mayo | nderwear 1s the only medium i f p lerwear knit in the warmer to-rib way. ie Nowadays most of us have to look at both sides of our dollar Yi l in be ure of thi ; The money that buys I rib y » + Mavo ly ierwear will never Know a vain reyret. kor I rib knitting make Nlavo | ndcrwear vrow old lowly. Dealers who ke ! their weather-ey: open for full value for then customel it | rib Nayo Underwear. There's One like that in vour neiwhborhood Remember what a warm friend Mayo will be in zero day and see the Mayo dealer today DEAL! ‘ / V l el — One mean re ee 0 THE MAYO MILLS, MAYODAN, N. C. Off 46 Broadway, New York Cit ees Made from Mayo Yarn WINTER UNDERWEAR for MEN and BOYS UNION SUITS - SHIRTS - DRAWERS Ask your Wife! If y« 1 want expert opinion on the Mayo to-rib fabric ask your wife to look at Mayo with you. She knows fabrics. She can feel that Mayo 1o-rib elasticity. She can judge that 1o-rib wear.

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THE SATURDAY THE GAMESTIER Continued from Page 32 There had been times when her fidelity was the sure thing in all the world, but a man had to be somehow hig! himself to know it. He was going home from the ditch, even fire-scarred and blackened with smoke. Phoebe would run from him. Chauvin would stand and look him over. His lip would curl at what he saw. Yet Bernie held on to the one rin brass. Winning meant just that—to re- member, when he could not see and hear, to hold on past mind panic and body break. Death was in his feet an d hands, but the iginable facing him now, rest was bared to unim: suffering. All the years were de- manding to be squared and straightened before they sank back, a host of forgotten meannesses and cruelties running past and out of him now if this iffering paid for them in full and set them free to go. How much could he stand? A score of old issues were answered in his mind-—- issues in which he had actually thought he was right een now in their true light for the first tl things that Phoebe had said, never rstood before: thir had ys that Phacbe uffere a neve, under tood bef« re Grind of brakes beneatl rhe stream of flashing cinders changed to the lights of a tow! Bernie fell forward on his knees to the ground, as he dropped off the dark side of the trai Hi — and legs wouldn’t nd at first. In the shadow of the freight cars he tried to beat some life into his limbs in the three minutes of waitir This was Montgardet a savage fact to : accept Montgardet wa oO close to Chicago that passengers coming in from the East began to get their baggage together when the own was called. There were still two more stops— Winston and Leverette, before Cor- Four hours,”’ he muttered as he swung again, “‘ but one of them’s shot to hell.” At Winston a yard man without lantern ( rht his leg as he crambled to the blind it the dark side hat stant Bernie knew what the blood lu tne ight to kill All the eur >and death stopped, — t irpose were of his own before ~ eye was pulled back to the ground. ’ © Boomerang moved. He had no weapor "Phoebe': hite face was in his eyes ‘I’ve got to go. My last five, mister,” heard himself ying He was on again, and heard the words of 1 le about them, asking ride on cushions behind, Then for a few mit om the dirty heat armer fr of { top me¢ he muttered in of wind again, knowing now how i cold were to him, com g the trai: Che second hour finished; the third eter nity was entered upon. Up into the dream he was carried, but the place now was like i city of empty house Down into the hells he dropped, and they were thickly tenanted Somewhere in here, before Lev- erette, Was the darkest place of the ride, and Bernie came up from that darkness with his hands still clutching the bras Something new was with him. He wa more keen to the cold and quite as keen to the torture from the burns, but more trength was in his limbs, something like clarity in his mind. Something in him the he hot peppering was coming up wouldn't freeze from the stack in from behind He hid hid was on agal! As for front, Leverette, and He was aftily at last quarter more cr tor the thinking of coffee at Corson and buying his way up to Leeds, but the five was gone. He hardly dared to think of two hours at Corson, or how to steal his way on a local in daylight. Pride within him was putting up it last fight for life or death. Everyone knew him from Corson up In Michigan now, the Boomerang doing her best. He had always liked this stretch from inside the fifty-mile-sixty-minute stretch. Michigan— the old state lying out tark and white in level frost, and one of the that hurtling across vitals her sons coming hon border miles, a ane in his would not blow out. Brakes ag: couldn’t be long, but not long iin and whistle This Corson. to stop. It had been bitter enough for Corson. The Boomerang came to a full stop. The engi- neer stepped down at the right, Bernie off at the left. Steps on the gravel; the con- ductor and station agent coming to confer with the engineer in front. Evidently the Boomerang had been ordered at Leverette to stop here for a telegram. Back from the engine on the far side Bernie heard the low discussion — that the strike situation was acute at Corson, that the Boomerang was to pass through a different part of the yards. Thestation agent was keenly aware of the comments bother the cogitations of the two old mas- ters They weren't interested that the station agent hadn't been called to night ice for St sernie whipping his arms in the dark just within vibration of their quickened by the nicker of a seemed to crisis. His ery veral years. voices now Was horse in‘a freight car, still farther from the engine. He spoke softly. The nicker came back to him with a rush, others joining in. ‘Thoroughbreds, ’’ he muttered. ‘‘T} or- oughbreds-— thirsty and hungry and cold.’ ‘*What horses are those?”’ the conductor now asked. ‘Race horses Been hung up here a day and a half already,” the station agent an swered ‘They sound hungry — hostler wit! them?” “No, the hostler was laid out at Lever ette by the strikers, the stock shoved i: here to spoil.” The conductor cursed quietly. ‘* Where they gou ie j Marke d for ( hauvin in Bostock.’ ‘The yard boys will get the worst of it for letting animals suffer like that,”’ the conductor remarked; and added to the engineer: ‘‘Come on, Horace, we'll go.” Bernie turned from the freight car toward the blind, the protest of Chauvin’s horse in his ears The train stood ear as Bernie stock moved and ween the engine and the one frozen. The blind meant thing t life meant to one caught in the t of nful death. Yet the thoroughbreds were ( te mee him. He heard their eager frenzied yet every toils ramp upon the straw, the sharp crack of hoofs against the side boards. Hung up in the cold a day and a half already! The brass rail of the blind went by his lifted han his knees bent to le ap to it, but his feet held. A ery broke forth from hi chest The ing by That was the verted moment in Bernie Cave sank to the ground beaten by could not read; utte rly b: by something more rest was sealed Pullmans speed strangest and most per ’s life. He a@ pian he ilked and thwarted powerful than his own will the neighing of the runners like demons in his ears. A kind led over him where he Boomerang twanging \ 1 voices of oblivion re a mere n the rails when he roused. station was black, but he iw a swinging lantern down the path at the left. He sat up and yelled. The lantern came to a stop. Bernie rose and called again, making for the light Who is it?” a voice asked shakily Bernie was dead to call from a distance He forw: ird at a limping run. The sh: Halt!” too near went voice said: ‘Halt, hell!’ Bernie gasped. ‘I want you “And now he was Icoking into a medieval ind gun that shook. It was the station nt going home ‘I dropped off on account of those dam ed horse the car for Bostoc Sag sernie saw the agent’s lower jaw drop and his eyes fill with a kind of insane tentness in the lantern ray. ‘What -what you?” he a staring into the little man’s face. ‘I’m for Chauvin’s horses.”” “Did you fall out of the fire pocket ‘Never mind that,” Bernie said quick! “T was late. I caught the blind at Lever ette ‘You came through on the Boomera wl — a coat? are sked, stil Carload of young Southern horse Jernie said quietly. “‘I traced ’em here The y did up the hostler who shipped witl them. I’m here to take his place “Can't do anything till morning. come with me and get a cup of coffee “Nothing like that. Have you got the key to the car?” Bernie asked. ‘It’s ope as “And you—the town let stand in the cold and starve? ‘Everything’s shot to hell. with the strikers. Jette r ” those ponies The town’s You can’t do nothing till E VENING POST Never loo Old To Earn Mr. C. E. Norbeck, Minnesota, 1s seventy- iid. Yetina single month he five years has earned in his spare time alone $160.00 (, \ few } | ! ] k i he i ? ’ j ( ryet te, hav | } t 1 in over 1500 subsets L year th ( i the | ral la that ar toh tor | Ni ineteen to Ni inety Men of all aves, with or without experien ,can fi ( ! Urtls W the maxi f profit for th ene effort We , representation ever \ | | FIOOL00 i week to act for | Phe “subscription seasor ist ahead of Hu fth of Curtis sub ript | Why il the } t | ; , Apply at once, using th pon below THI CURTIS PUBLINENG COMPA NY 606 lh lepel r ire, PI i "x Name Street Down ee ee ee EG Ge Ge GE Gee eee po you > INTEND TO BUILD >\ On Rats ugh rest exterminator and Mice Mailed free » 119 ART E.S.WELLS nin Chemist n n it i k post $1. | $1.50 nd t ne t ide i AURFLIUS SWANSON CO. f ling D rt t 1004 State Nat Bk. Bid Oklat a City, Ok! = you YOURLIPS SAY YOU = love ta me your eyes tell LOVE ME BUTYOUR EYES TELL ME NO ioe SSS le lips say Sy => > Sse NO Sz, JO¢ me -y ~The Safest, Speedie st Sled -— Flexible Flyer ts patented, grooved steel. non-skid runners make steering cCasy and ile, pies won A fast.; Has hock ab Saves shoes and prevents wet feet. 7 38 to 63 inches. Only the ine bears the flying eagle trade mark se FREE Tecan Waele’ ALL EN & Co., Ine. ae coasting and an all-steel ber front Size genu Box 1100S Philadelphia

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MOTOR ROBES fet, ametoorss Monologs, Recitations, ty treland Vaudeville Jokes d es; ideas for all kinds of tree « entertainments. Ser italog DRAMATIC PUBLISENO | CO., 542 So. Dearborn St, Chicago 1 Stat PECAN COMPANY, Coleman, Texas CONCHO COLORADO | daylight. Comealong tothe house with me. EVENING POST ” Bernie took him by the shoulders. The station agent’s face blanched. He was looking into a diminutive death's head with some strange white fire burning far back in the skull. His broad shoulders were shaken by blue and crippled hands. ‘Listen here,” tortured lips said swiftly. “If I sat down now I'd die. cup of coffee’d knock me cold. Forget your house for a minute and stay with me. You can finish off the night by a real piece of work for once in your life.” The man’s eyes answered with a queer gleam. He saw what Chuck Cadwell had seen in the restaurant in Schwartz Street. “What do you want?” he asked. “T want to take the horses out first to water—the nearest water—then to the nearest warm stables. Then I want to send a telegram to Chauvin at Bostock. After that — Bernie’s hand fumbled up to his brow. He never could speak the name of Phabe to a stranger. **My name is Bernie Cave,”’ he went on. “After the telegram is sent and the horses are watered and fed and stabled I want to be taken home to Leeds. Remember the name : in “‘Bernie Cave,” the man repeated. heard of you, mister.” “T’ve Fowler, the station agent, became deeply absorbed as they walked back toward the car. There were sixteen youngsters in ship- ment—shaking and hungry and athirst. Mostly their blankets were kicked or twisted awry. Some were fighting mad; all were surprised and disappointed with life. Yet the little man went among them, without the lantern, talking, straightening their blankets. Then the agent helped him rig a gangway with heavy work, and watched, fascinated, as he held the light, while Bernie Cave coaxed the first runner down the abrupt grade. The others fol- lowed easily enough, but only hypnotism started the procession. Fowler had had some experience with horses, more or less all his life, but two were all he cared to handle on the road to town, nearly a half mile. Bernie took four halter shanks and got by with it twice. A boy from the town livery stable went back with them to the car on the second trip. By the time the wintry dawn was gray the whole | sixteen were slowly warming through, in | deep straw and protected stalls. Then Fowler saw the little man glance round, brace himself against a partition and start for the office where the stove was lit and the fur robes were piled. “No, you don’t, Mr. “You're coming home with me. The burned and blackened face shook slowly in negative. Cave,” he said. ” November 29,1919 “No, I’m going home,” he muttered, sinking down. The station agent sent the telegram to Chauvin, and a rig was hooked up at the stable to take Bernie to Fowler’s house. A little later when a doctor from town bent over him the little man rubbed his eyes, saying: “‘No shot, thank you. Just my shoes. I’m not coming back.’ That night a huge man in seal furs came to the house of the agent. It was the old horseman, Chauvin, who had driven over from Bostock. The face on the pillow studied him long before reporting: “‘ Never happened before. I had him coming up from be hind all right, but he wabbled in the stretch.’ “Didn’t look like that from the peri- scope, Bernie,” the old man answered. “Your win scored clean, my son—from the judge’s stand.” The next day the woman came from Leeds. She had risen to answer this call Her light step was the rhythm of life to Bernie Cave; pain could not live long under the touch of her hand. She was always near. Sometimes in lamplight he would waken and listen. She was never,long com- ing. She never failed. When gray daylight or sunlight was in the room he had only to stop and listen—presently to hear her step During the days when he lost the purpose for a moment, and there seemed no reason why the needle should not ease part of the pain, part of the time, she would come and sit close. Presently the old twist of the mind would straighten out and the craving of the myriad cells would become less im- portant than to keep the soft shining in her eyes. He had to figure it out a long time when they told him he had been in Fow- ler’s house for six weeks. “Tt only took Bert Goodrich two,”’ he said, ‘“‘but he had an overcoat.” On one of the last days at Phoebe whispered: ‘‘Oh, Bernie steady now, and I love it so!” “What? “What the boys used to call The Game- Fowler's, it comes ster. I loved it then—those swift-passing moments— but now it comes and stays and lives. You’re being born all over again.” He did not speak. “But all the old that I loved so—all that is there just the same,” she added in a whisper. So the dream was coming true down on the floor of things. “Chauvin is coming with a machine to- morrow to take us home,” she went on, “and it has come so wonderfully true what you said—oh, quite beyond dreams.” “What, Phabe?” “What you said before you went away. Don’t you remember— just as you left me in Leeds—that you would come back clean and a winner?” THE SATURDAY EVENING POST More Than Two Million a Week | Table of Contents | November 29, 1919 | SHORT STORIES Big People— Henry Sydnor Harrison 3 | Tutt and Mr. Tutt—Arthur Train 8 | Let the Seller Beware !—Wilbur Hall 10 Rip Van Winkle Lands an Order— Robert R. Updegraft 12 } Ride ‘im, Cowboy !— Courtney Ryley Cooper 14 Cabell Drives the Nail— Alice L. Tildesley 16 The First Lady of Cranberry Isle— Richard Matthews Hallet 18 | Anyone Can Write— Edith Hulbert Hamilton 20 Athletics for Cold Cash— Bertram Lebhar 23 The Gamester— Will Levington Comfort 28 | The Totem— Thomas Beer ots 42 } SERIALS The Girl on the Hilltop—Kenyon Gambier . 24 The Cross Pull— Hal G. Evarts 34 ARTICLES Germany in Transition—IJsaac F. Marcosson ; 6 Syndicalism Strikes—L. E. McKenzie ‘ i oa One Thousand Diameters—Stanley M. Rinehart, M. D. eee DEPARTMENTS Editorial— By the Editor. 26 Everybody’s Business— Floyd Ww. Parsons 38 |

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST 1 7 Pe yt " ait ' ili} } j i ‘lf | rr | TAA i\! | ill ‘ , ti | Ca Pi ARR HUY dat ¥ 4 i 4 } ik Early Power Construction Job for S. D. Warren Company Brought Contract for Latest Water Power Plant WI N ry -| IG] {T years ago we Carrie d out in New England. Your recent work at Dundee Falls was done our first construction work for S. D. Warren thoroughly well in remarkably short time and the way you car & Company in connection with their great ried it on was beyond praise. We regret that Nature has not paper mill at Cumberland Mills, Maine. provided us with additional water powers to develop.” # We also built their most recent water power f This power plant is typi al of many we have designed plant at Dundee Falls on the Presumpscott ; : maid ; and built for large industrial establishments compelled to River and tied it into the older system. Our client, now nationally known as S. D. WARREN COMPANY, writes: generate their own power. ( omplete satisfaction with re sults, we find, is best assured if we work with you rather than se . . , } It was natural for us to turn to you again to build our latest for you, and if we begin when your plans for a plant or water power plant as you had constructed for us in 1891] our first extension are first taking shape. electrical development which was also the first high pressure line STONE & WEBSTER . s0STON Sto ebste N CK Industrial Plants and Buildings Industrial Housing Warehouses I I tone & Webster Bidg EW YOR CHICAGO First National Bank Bidg EATTLEI 868 Stuart Bidg Power Stations Water Power Developments Transmission Systems YOUNGSTOWN . 516Stambaugh Bldg. PITTSBURGH 54 Union Arcade s : SAN FRANCISCO = 301 Holbrook Bldg DETROIT Book Bidg Office and Monumental Buildings Chemical Works PARIS , 2 Rue des Italiens 120 Broadway Gas Plants HAA, DONG Aisin ees 4t/ i ny gfert hy /. TT WY aft ~ 12 Gul ~ ao ee TIO YPM TTT NT ULE IH J 44 gi OO Hae Magia ” atid it scnassiotcnini te ii \ ’ \ paewetetens N ‘\ =n BSTONE & WEBSTER J \ “© ‘ ra SSSA at ? \ ~ Yay eS a\\ vt . SERVICE cece HRY fE4), Abe

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176 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST a - . 7 - ro November 29, /919 Many hundreds of packers compete for the nation’s meat business It has been said that the five largest packers have no real competition and therefore practically control the meat supply of the country. Anybody who knows the real facts realizes how absurd this contention is. Besides the five largest packers there are 266 other packing concerns doing an interstate business. In addition to these, there are many hundreds of smaller packing establishments operating locally all over the country. That this competition is real, is evidenced by the fact that some of these concerns do a business rang- ing from 25 to 50 million dollars yearly. To get a picture of the intense competition in the meat industry, go into any Swift & Company branch house and watch a half hour’s selling. You will realize that Swift & Company has to fight for every dollar’s worth of its business. There is probably no business in America more keenly competitive than the packing industry, and none that serves the public on a smaller margin of profit—a fraction of a cent a pound from all sources. Swift & Company, U.S. A. Founded 1868 A nation-wide organization owned by more than 30,000 shareholders

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One Reason for Thanksgiving — thi ‘ the same amount of elect Thanks to MAZDA Service working constantly for better light, and to lighting compames working. for ‘The New bette epvine, electric fake j iataiding thar ha NHITE MAZDA ontin aon war lown in t whil ract I] amp 1919" aaiiaas te : “EDISON LAMP WORKS OF GENERAL ELECTRIC COMPANY

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Which Grafonola will you give for Christmas? The pure, sweet tone of Columbia Grafonolas, clear, resonant, and full, makes them a constant joy to hear. The beauty of their cabinets makes them a joy to see. The great variety of Columbia Models makes it certain that there is a Grafonola for every purse and taste. ¥) There are small, portal 1 you tr ! t Amet ! furopea ry vi B l | . oy for tl t ibo ts ft ! tt FIO0O rate of interior All sorts of finishes, F2100, t t worth | or lustt P gh as POOO | toth Sta , Nlo | line of ( G 3 ( (ra } vith ev Look for the Tone Leaves Ri COLUMBIA GRAPHOPHONE CO, New York Queen Anne Period Model