The following text may have been generated by Optical Character Recognition, with varying degrees of accuracy. Reader beware!

fPtp; illliliii®!p« THE McHEXRT PLAIJTDEALER, McHENRY, ILL. f iiMv i?V THE LONE WOLF n n ay LOUIS JOS^jrH VANCE (Cop.TTtfht by I/ral* .To*ph V»nc».l SYNOPSIS. ^4^44100 0fttt) 0 0 0 f t f t - f l H H M > ) t ^ " * ̂ •1 * 0*',>^i>***^»«**a**'>*^'>Aa66A<t*a*6AA****66*6A66*aa*A6aaaAAAAAAI> »**"« LAA ll was with the reflection that. If Roddy were really .playing possum, be was welcome to whatever he could find In the quarters of Michael Lan­ yard. At Troyon's. a Paris Inn. the youth Marcel Troyiin. afterwards to he kn >»n as Michael Lanyard. Is causrht ateatTng by Bu-ke. an expert thief, who takes the oey with Mm to America and makes of him a finished cracksman. After stealing the Omber Jewels and the Huysman war plans in London Lanyard returns to Troyon's for the first time in many years because he thinks Roddy, a Scotland Yard man. Is on his trail. On arrival he finds Roddv already installed as a puest At d! nner a conversation between Comte <le Moroihan. M. Bannon and Mile. Ban- non about the Lone Wolf, a celebrated cracksman who works alone, puzzles and alarms him as to whether his identity is only sruessed or known. To satisfy him­ self that Roddy Is not watchinsr htm. Lanyard dres!»es and goes out. leaving Roddy apparently asleep and snoring in the next room. CHAPTER IV--Continued. A single half-power electric bulb now modified the gloom of the hall­ way; its fellow made a light blot on the darkness of the courtyard. Even the windows of the conciergerie were black. None the less Lanyard tapped them smartly. "Cordon!" he demanded in a stri­ dent voice--"Cordon, s'il vous plait!" "Eh?" A startled grunt from within the lodge was barely audible. Then the latch clicked loudly at the end of the passageway. Groping his way in the direction of this last 6ound, Lanyard found the small side door ajar. He opened it and hesitated a moment, looking out as though questioning the weather; simultaheously his deft fingers wedged the latch back with a thin slip of steel. It had. in fact, not been raining within an hour, but still the sky was dense with a low, sullen wrack of cloud, and still the sidewalks were inky-wet. The street was lonely and indiffer­ ently lighted, but a swift, searching reconnoissance discovered no spy skulking in the shelter of any of the nearer shadows. Stepping out. he slammed the door and strode briskly round the corner, as if making for the cab rank that lines ,up along the Luxembourg gar­ dens of the Rue de Medicls; his boot- heejs made cheerful racket In that quiet hour; he was quite audibly go­ ing away from Tnoyon'B. But instead of holding on to the cab rank, he turned the next corner, and then the next, rounding the block; and presently, reapproaching the en­ trance to Troyon's. paused in the re cess of a dark doorway and. lifting one foot after another, slipped rub­ ber pads over his heels. Thereafter his progress was practically noiseless. The smaller door yielded to his touch without a murmur. Inside, he closed it gently and stood a moment listening with all his senses--not with his ears alone, but with every nerve and fiber of his being--with Imagina­ tion to boot. But there was not a sound or movement in all the house that he could detect. And no shadow could have made less noise than he, slipping cat-footed across the courtyard and up the stairs, avoiding with superdeveloped sensi­ tiveness every lift that might have complained beneath his tread. In a trice he was again in a corridor lead­ ing to his bedchamber. It was quite as gloomy and empty as it had been five minutes ago, yet with a difference, a something in its atmosphere that made him nod brieflv in confirmation of that suspicion which had brought him back so stealthily. For one thing, Roddy had stopped •noring. And Lanyard smiled over the thought that the man from Scot land Yard might profitably have cop­ ied that trick of poor Bourke's. of •noring like the Seven Sleepers when i most completely awake. | It was. naturally, no surprise to find ! Ills bedchamber door unlocked and ' •lightly ajar. Lanyard made sure of | his automatic, strode into the room, j and shut the door quietly, but by no j means soundlessly. | He had left the shades down and the ' hangings drawn at both windows; and ' since these had not been disturbed ! something nearly approaching com- j plete darkness reigned la the room. But though promptly on entering his ! fingers had closed upon the wall | switch near the door, he refrained 1 from turning up the lights immediate- j ly. with a fancy, of impish inspiration, | that it would be amusing to learn what move Roddy would make when the tension became too much even for his trained nerves. Several seconds passed without the least sound disturbing the stillness Lanyard himself grew a little impa­ tient when his sight didn't become ac­ customed to the darkness because It was too absolute--it pressed against his staring eyeballs like a black fluid, impenetrably opaque, as unbroken as the hush within that room. Still he waited. Surely Roddy wouldn't be ablft»ipuch longer to en­ dure such suspense. And. surely enough, the silence was abruptly broken by a strange and moving sound, a hushed cry of alarm that was half a moan and half a sob. Lanyard himself was startled, for that was never Roddy's voice! • There was a noise of muffled and confused footsteps, as though some­ one had started in panic for the door, then stopped in terror. Words followed--the strangest he could have imagined--words spoken in a gentle and tremulous voice: "In pity's name! who are you and what do you want?" Thunderstruck, Lanyard switched on the lights. At a distance of some six paces he saw not Roddy but a woman, and not a woman merely, but the girl he had met in the restaurant. CHAPTER V, t? Anticlimax. The surprise was complete; but It's a question which party thereto wu the more affected. Lanyard stared with the eyes of stu­ pefaction. his jaw slack. To his fancy, this thing passed the compass o? simple incredulity--it wasn't merely improbable, it was preposterous: H was anticlimax exaggerated to the pro portion of the grotesque. He had come prepared to surprise and bullyrag the most astute police detective of whom he had any knowl edge; he found himself surprised and discountenanced by this! Confusion no less intense informed the girl's expression; her eyes wert fixed to his with a look of blank in quiry; her face, whose coloring had won his admiration two hours since was now colorless; her lips were Just ajar; the fingers of one hand touched her cheek, indenting It. The other hand caught up before her the long skirts of a pretty robe de chambre, beneath whose edge was visible a hand's breadth of shimmer ing white silk, with the toe of a silken mule to match the dressing gown. Thus she stood, poised for flight, at­ tired only In a negligee over what, one couldn't help suspecting, was her nightdress--her hair was down, she was unquestionably all ready for her bed. But Bourke's long and patient train­ ing had been wasted If this man proved one to remain long at loss. Rallying his wits quickly, he made a brave show of accepting this amazing accident as a commonplace. "I beg your pardon. Miss Bannon--" he began with a formal bow. She interrupted with a gasp of won­ dering recognition. "Mr. Lanyard!" He inclined his head a sccond time: "Sorry to disturb you--" | "But I don't understand--** "Unfortunately," he proceeded smoothly, "I forgot something when 1 went out and had to come back for it." "But--but--" "Yes?" Suddenly her gaze for the first time broke from his and swept the room with a glance of wild dismay. "This room," she breathed--"I don't know It--" "It is mine." "Yours! But--" "That is how I happened to--inter­ rupt you." Th^fe girl shrank back a pace--two paces--uttering in low-toned mono- He 8aw Not Roddy, but a Woman. syllable of understanding, an "Oh!" abruptly gasped. Simultaneously her face and throat flamed scarlet with the color that flooded them. "Your room, Mr. Lanyard!" Her tone was so convincing in Its modulation of shame and horror that hiB heart misgave him. Not that alone, but the girl was very good to look upon. "I'm sure," he began soothingly, "it doesn't matter. You mistook one door for the--" "But you don't understand!" 8he shuddered. "This dreadful habit! And I was hoping 1 had outgrown it! How can I explain?" "Believe me. Miss Bannon, you need explain nothing." "But 1 must. 1 wish u>; I couldn't Quaker Wit "Somewhere in France" there is at work a group of English Quakers, whose cool courage and tireless devo­ tion in rescuing and tending the wounded on many a battlefield have won them, despite their peace prlncl pies, the hearty respect and liking ol both "Tommies" and "piou-pious" Among them is one young man whose ancestors for several generations havo beep notable more for wit and spirit tti> (or UM virtue* oftenaat associ­ ated with drab coats and broad hat" brims. It was a member of that family, a century or more ago, that found him­ self by chance in a carriage with a very fine lady attired in the low- necked, short-Bleeved muclin dress then in the height of fashion, adorned by a profusion of Jewels and trinkets, •nd protected only by a lace shawl as light as a cobweb. A chilly wind blew IP suddenly, and she exclaimed, ahiv bear to have you think-- But surely you can make allowances for sleep­ walking!" To this appeal he could at first re­ turn nothing more intelligent than a dazed repetition of the term. So that was bow-- Why hadn't he thought of it before? Ever since he had turned on the lights he had been subjectively busy trying to invest her presence there with some plausible excuse. But somnambulism had never once entered his mind. And in bis stupidity, at pains though he had been to render his words inoffensive in themselves, he had been guilty of con­ structive Incivility. In his turn Lanyard colored warmly. "I beg your pardon," he muttered. The girl paid no attention; she was thinking only of herself and the anomalous polsitlon into which her In­ firmity had tricked ner. When she did speak her words ran swiftly: You see-- I was so frightened! f found myself suddenly standing up in darkness, Just as if I had Jumped out of bed in my sleep at some alarm; and then I heard somebody enter the room and shut the door stealthily. Ob. please understand me!" "But I do, Miss Badnon--quite." "1 am so ashamed--" "Please don't consider it that way." "But now that you know--you don't think--" "^y dear Miss Bannon!" "But it must be so hard to credit! Why, it's more than a year since it last happened. Of course, as a child, it was almost a habit; they bad to watch me all the time. Once-- But that doesn't matter. I am so sorry!" "You really mustn't worry," Lan­ yard insisted. "It's all quite natural --such things do happen--are happen­ ing all the time--" "But I don't want you--** "1 am nobody, Miss Bannon. Be­ sides, I sha'n't mention the matter to a soul. And If ever I am fortunate enough to meet you again, I shall have forgotten It completely--believe me." There was convincing sincerity In his tone. The girl looked down, as though abashed. "You are very good." she mur­ mured, moving toward the door. "I am very fortunate." Her glance of surprise was question enough. "To be able to treasure this much of your confidence," he responded with a tentative smile. She was near the door; he opened it for her, but ^cautioned her with a gesture and a whispered word: "Walt. I'll make sure nobody's about." He stepped noiselessly Into the hall and paused an Instant, looking keenly right and left, listening. The girl advanced to the threshold and there halted, hesitant, eying him anxiously. He nodded reassurance: "All right --coast's clear!" But she delayed one moment more. "It's you who are mistaken." she whispered,, flushing again beneath his regard, from which admiration could not be absent. "It Is I who am for­ tunate--to have met a--gentleman." Her diffident smile, together with the candor of her eyes, embarrassed him In such degree that for the mo­ ment he was unable to frame a reply "Good night," she whispered--"and thank you, thank you!" Her room was at the far end of the corridor. She gained Its threshold In one swift dash, noiseless save for the silken whisper of her garments, turned, flashed, him a final look that left him with the thought that novel­ ists did not always exaggerate, that eyes could shine like stars. Her <toor closed softly. Lanyard shook his head, as If to dis­ sipate a swarm of pestering thoughts, and went back into his own bedcham­ ber. He was quite content with the ex­ planation the girl had given, but as the victim of a methodical and perti­ nacious habit of mind, spent five busy minutes examining his room and all that it contained with a perseverance that would have done credit to a Frenchman searching for a mislaid sou. If pressed, he would have been put to it to name what he sought or thought to find. What he did find was that nothing had been tampered with, and nothing more--not even so much as a dainty, lace-trimmed wisp of sheer linen bearing the lady's monogram and exhaling a faint but individual perfume. Which, when he came to consider it, seemed haMly playing the game by the book. As for Roddy. Lanyard wasted sev eral minutes, now and again, listening attentively at the communicating door; but if the detective had stopped snoring, his respiration was clear enough in that quiet hour, a sound oi harsh monotony. True, that proved nothing; but Lan­ yard. after the fiasco of his first at tempt to catch bis enemy awake, was no more disposed to be hypercritical, he had his fill of being ingenious and profound. And when presently he again left Troyon's--this time without troubling the rest of the concierge-- erlng. "What shall 1 do to get warm?" "1 really don't know," said the Quaker, sympathetically, "unless thee put on another breastpin."--Youth's Companion. CHAPTER VI. The Pack Gives Tongue. Lanyard's first destination was that convenient little ground-floor apart­ ment near the Trocadero, at the junc­ tion of the Rue Roget and the Avenue de l'Alma; but his way thither was so roundabout that the best part of an hour was required for what might have been less thtfn a twenty-minute taxlcab course -direct from Troyon's. It was past one when he arrived, afoot, at the corner. Not thaf he grudged the time, for In Lanyard's esteem Bourke's epigram had come to have the weight and force of an axiom: "The more trouble you make for yourself, the less the dear public will make for you." Paradoxically, he hadn't the least In*, tention of attempting to deceive any­ body as to his permanent address in Paris, where Michael Lanyard, con­ noisseur of fine paintings, was a figure too conspicuous to permit of hiB mak­ ing a secret of his residence. De Morbihan, moreover, through recogniz­ ing him at Troyon's, had rendered it Impossible for Lanyard to adopt a nom de guerre there, even had be thought such course advisable. But he had certain matters to attend to before dawn, affairs demanding privacy; and white by no means sure he was followed, one can seldom be sure of anything, especially In Paris, where nothing ie Impossible; and it seemed as well to lose a hypothetical spy first as last. And his mind would not be at ease with respect to Roddy, thanks to De Morblhan's gasconade in the hearing of the detective, and alqo to that hint which the count had dropped concerning a fatal blunder tn the course of Lanyard's British cam­ paign. He fitted key to latch and quietly let himself Into his flat by a private en­ trance from the street, the possession of which, In addition to the usual door opening on the court and under the eye of the concierge, distinguished this from the ordinary Parisian apart­ ment and rendered it doubly suited to the adventurer's uses. Then he turned on the lights and moved quickly from room to room of the three comprising his quarters, with comprehensive glances reviewing their condition. But, Indeed, he hadn't left the re­ ception hall for the salon without feel­ ing assured that things were In no re­ spect as they ought to be--a hat he had left on the hall-rack had been moved to another peg; a chair had been shifted six Inches from its or­ dained position, and the door of a clothes closet, which he had locked on leaving, now stood an inch ajar. The state of the salon, which he had furnished as a lounge and study, and of the tiny dining room and the bedchamber adjoining, bore out tbese testimonies to the fact that alien hands had thoroughly ransacked the apartment, leaving no square inch un scrutinized. Yet he missed nothing. His rooms were a private gallery of valuable paintings and antique furniture to poison with envy the mind of any col­ lector, and housed Into the bargain a small museum of rare books, manu­ scripts, and minor articles of exquis­ ite workmanship whotie individuality, aside from intrinsic worth, rendered them priceless. A burglar of discrimi­ nation could have carried away in one coat pocket loot enough to foot the bill for twelve months of profligate living. But nothing had been removed --nothing, at least, that was apparent in the first tour of inspection; which, if sweeping, was in no way superficial. He moved slovly from object to ob­ ject, checking off items and noting their condition, with the sole result of Justifying hiB first impression--where­ as nothing had escaped handling, noth­ ing had been removed. As a last test he opened his desk-- of which the lock proved to have been deftly picked--drew up a chair, and went through Its pigeonholes. His scanty correspondence, composed chiefly of letters exchanged with art dealers, had been scrutinized and re­ placed carelessly, in disorder--and here again be missed nothing; but in the end, removing a small drawer and Inserting a hand in the reccss, be found and pressed a spring which re­ leased a rack of pigeonholes and ex­ posed the secret cabinet which forms an inevitable attribute of such pieces of period furniture. A shallow box, this secret space con­ tained one thing only, but that one of considerable value, being the leather bill-fold In which the adventurer kept a store of ready money against emer­ gencies. It was mostly for this. Indeed that he had come to his apartment; his London campaign baving demanded an expenditure far beyond bis calcula­ tions. so that he had landed In Paris with less than one hundred francs tn pocket. And Lanyard, for all his pride of spirit, acknowledged one haunting fear, that of finding htmself strapped in time of stress The fold yielded up Its hoaru to a sou--Lanyard removed and counted over five notes of one thousand francs and ten of twenty pounds--their sum approximating two thousand dollar^. But if nothing had been taken away, something had been added--the back of one of the Bank of England notes had been used as a blank for a mem* orandum. Lanyard spread It out pnd studied It attentively. The handwriting had been traced with no discernible attempt at dls guise, but was quite strange to him The pen employed had been one of those needle-pointed nibs so popular in France; the hand was that of an educated Frenchman. The substance of the memorandum translated as fol­ lows: "To the Lone Wolf--The Pack sends greetings and extends its invitation to participate in the benefits of its fra­ ternity. One awaits him always at 1'Abbaye Theleme." A date was added, the date of that same day. Deliberately, when he had conned this communication. Lanyard produced his cigarette case, twisted the note of twenty pounds into a rude spill, set it aflfe, lighted his cigarette therefrom and, rising, conveyed the burning pa­ per to a cold and empty fireplace, where he permitted it to burn to a crisp, black ash. When this was done his smile broke through 4iis clouding scowl. "Well, my friend!" he informed the author of that document which now could never prove incriminating--"at all events. 1 have you to than^k for a r Lanyard Studied It Attentively. new sensation. It has long been my ambition to feel warranted'ln lighting a cigarette with a twenty-pound note, if the whim ever seized me!" His smile faded slowly; the frown replaced it--something more valuable to him than a hundred dollars bad just gone up in smoke. CHAPTER VII. 8uepense. His secret uncovered, all that labori­ ously constructed edifice of art and chicane which yesterday had seemed so Impregnable a wall between the Lone Wolf and the world today torn asunder, Lanyard wasted time neither In profitless lamentation or any other sort of repining. Delaying only long enough to revise plans, he put out the lights and left by the courtyard door; for it was Just possible that those wh/)se sardonic whim it had been to name themselves "the Pack" might have stationed agents in the street to follow their dissocial brother in crime. And now, more than ever, lanyard was firmly bent on going his own way unwatched. His course first led Uim stealthilv past tfce door of the porter and across the court to the public hallway in the main body of the building Afoot, and in complete darkness, he made his ascent of five dlghts of wind­ ing stairs, pausing at length before the adoor of an apartment on the sixth floor. A flash from a pocket-lamp lo­ cated the keyhole; the key turned without a sound; the door swung on silent binges. Once inside, ton adventurer moved mor^ freely, with less precaution against noise. He was on known ground, and alone; the apartment, though furnished, was untenanted, and would so remain as long as Lanyard continued to pay the rent from Lon­ don under an assumed name. It was the convenience of this ref­ uge and avenue of retreat. Indeed, that had dictated bis choice of this par ttcular floor, for the sixth-story flat hid one Invaluable feature--a window opening on the roof of the adjoining building. Two minutes' examination sufficed to convince Lanyard that here at least the Pack had not trespassed. J^lve minutes later he picked the common lock of a door opening from the roof of an apartment house on the ta rt heat corner of the block, found his way downstairs knocked on the dooi ot the porter's lodge, chanted that ven­ erable open sesame of Paris. "Cordon, si'l vous plait!" and was made free of the street by a worthy concierge too sleepy to challenge the late-departing guest. Deliver Us I George W. Perkins, in a Y. M. C. A. address on temperance in Chicago, be- gan: "A corking time is a good time for any young man. but may heaven de­ liver us all from the kind of oorking time that means an uncorking one." Gifts of Winter "In giving winter to men." said the Old Year. Margaret Woodward writes in the Countryside Magazine. "1 am conferring upon them one of the great est benefits. Do not the wise ones of earth know that climate bas much to do with culture? that the degree to which a race acquires civilization is dependent upon It? Nowhere are the rigors of winter felt more severely than In New England, and mark vou the men of intellectual and moral flbw who have been bred In this climate. Look at the races who ba£k under a tropical sun, where orange and banana groves grow luxuriantly, and noticf th« Indolence, the sensuality, the lack of ambition which prevail. It takes the winter to tone up the mqral and Intellectual, as well as thr physical na ture of man. One of your philosophers never uttered a truer nord than this 'Whereper snow falls, there la usually civil freedom.' Wfeter should brina to I He walked three bloccs, picked up a taxlcab, and In ten minutes more was at the ample, open and unguarded porte-cochere of a roomy court walled with beetling, ancient tenements. Assuring himself that the courtyard was deserted. Lanyard addressed him­ self to a door on the right; to bis knock it swung promptly ajar with a click' of Its latch. At the same time the adventurer produced from beneath his cloak a small black velvet vizor and adjusted It to mask the upper portion of his face* Then, entering a narrow and odorous corridor, whoae obscurity was only emphasized by a lonely, guttering candle, he turned the knob of the first door and walked Into a small, ill-furnished room. A spare-bodied young man. who had been sitting at a desk, reading by4he -light of an oil lamp with a heavy green shade, rose and bowed courteously. "Good morning, monsieur." he said with' the cordiality ot one who greets an acquaintance of old standing. "Be seated," he added, Indicating an arm­ chair beside the desk. "It is some time since I have had tjhe honor of a call from monsieur." "That is so." Lanyard admitted. Bit­ ting down. The young man followed suit. The lamplight, striking across his face be­ neath the greenish penumbra of the shade, discovered a countenance of Hebraic cast. "Monsieur has something to show me, eh?" "But naturally." Lanyard's reply Just escaped a flavor of curtness--as who should say. "What did you expect?" He was puzzled by Something strange and new in the at­ titude of this young man. a trace of re­ serve and constraint. They had been meeting in this man­ ner for several years, conducting their secret and lawless business ac­ cording to a formula Invented by Bourke and religiously observed by Lanyard. A note or telegram of inno­ cent superficial Intent, addressed to a certain memb^r^of a leading firm of jewelers in Amsterdam, was the in­ variable signal for meetings such as this, which were always held in the same place, at an indeterminate hour after midnight, between this intelli­ gent, cultivated and well-mannered young Jew and the thief in his mask. Why, then, this sudden awkward­ ness and embarrassment on the part of the agent? Lanyard's eyes narrowed with sus­ picion. In silence he produced a jewel case of morocco leather and gave it to the Jew, then settled back in his chair, his attitude one of lounging, but his mind as uneasy with distrust as his fingers which, under cover of his cloak, rested close to the pockft containing his au­ tomatic. Accepting the box with a little bow. the Jew pressed the catch and uncov­ ered Its contents. But the richness of the treasure thus disclosed did not seem to surprise him; and, indeed, he had more than once been introduced with no more formality to plunder of greater value. Fitting a Jeweler's mag- nlfying-glass to his eye, he picked up one after another of the pieces and ex­ amined them under the lamplight. Presently he replaced the last and shut down the cover of the box. He turned a thoughtful countenance to Lanyard, made as if to speak, but hesitated. "Well?" the adventurer demanded Impatiently. "This, I take It." said the Jew ab­ sently, tapping the box, "is the Jewelry of Mme. Omber." "I took it," Lanyard retorted good- humoredly--"not to put too fine a point upon it!" The Jew shrugged, and with the tips of his fingers gently pushed t^e box toward his customer. "This makes me very unhappy," he admitted; "but I have no choice In the matter, monsieur. As the agent of my principals, I am Instructed to refuse you an offer for these valuables." "Why?" Again the shrug, accompanied by a deprecatory grimace: "That Is dif­ ficult to say. No explanation was ipade me. My Instructions were mere­ ly to keep this appointment as usual, but to advise you that it would be Im­ possible for my principals to continue their relations with you as long as your affairs remained in their present status." "Their present status?" Lanyard re­ peated. "What does that mean?" "1 cannot say, monsieur. I can only repeat that /Which was said to me." After a moment Lanyard rose, took the box and replaced It In his pocket. "Very well," he said quietly. "Your principals, of course, understand that this action on their part definitely ends our relations rather than merely interrupts them at their whim?" "I am desolated, monsieur, but--on« must assume that they have consi«fr ered everything. You understand. It is a matter In which I am wholly with­ out discretion, I trust?" "Oh. quite!" Lanyard assented care­ lessly. He held out his hand. "Good- by, my friend." The Jew shook hands warmly. "Good night, monsieftir--and the best of luck I" There was a significance in his IMA words that Lanyard did not trouble to analyse. Beyond doubt the man knew more than he dared admit. And the ad* venturer told himself he could shrewd' ly surmise most of that which the other had felt constrained to leave un­ spoken. Pressure from some quarter had been brought to bear upon that emi­ nently respectable firm of Jewel mer­ chants In Amsterdam to force them to discontinue their clandestine relar tions with the Lone Wolf, profitable though these .must have been. (TO BE CONTINUKD.) a man a period of restfulness; t* should afford bim quiet hours tn the library and opportunity tor social In­ tercourse." Explained.. "Farm products cost more than they used to." "Yes," replied tbe farmer. "When a farmer Is supposed to know the botanical name of what he's rats ing, and the zoological name of the IB- sect that eats it, and the chemical name of what will kill tt» MQMMIV got to pay-" ELDERLY WOMEN SAFEGUARDED Tell Other. How They Wer* . Carried Safely Through Change of Life. Donnd, Wis.--"I am the motheref fourteen children and I owe my life to Lydia E. Pinkham's Vegetable Comv pound. When I was 4 5 a n d h a d t h e Change of Life, a friend recom­ mended it and it gave me such relief from my bad feel­ i n g s t h a t I t o o k several bottles. I am now well healthy and recom­ mend your Compound to other ladies." --Mrs. MARY RIDGWAY, Durand, Wis. A Massachusetts "Woman Writcw Blackstone, Mass. -- "My trouble® < were from my age, and I felt awfully sick for three years. I had hot flashes ofte:1. and frequently suffered from pains. I took Lydia E. Pinkham'i Vegetable Compound and now am well," --Mrs. PIERRE COURNOYER, BOX 239L Blackstone, Mass. Such warning symptoms as sense of. suffocation, hot flashes, headaches, back* aches, dread of impending evil, timidity, sounds in the ears, palpitation of ths heart, sparks before the eyes, irregu­ larities, constipation, variable appetite, weakness and dizziness, should be heedad by middle-aged women. Lydia E. Pink- ham's Vegetable Compound has carried many women safely through this crisis. Certainty. "Belle says she's twenty-five. Do you believe that?" "Of course I do. She was at least that much ten years ago." :--1 o The Change. "'Was the fugitive bank officer the cashier?" "He was, but now he's a runner." White lies require whitewashing to keep them from turning black. SKINNER'S Macaroni or Spaghetti The Quality Food--the tastiest, most healthful and most economical food that can grace your •table. At All Good Grocers' Save the signature of Paul F. Skinner on each package and obtain a set of Oneida Community Par Plate Silverware free. Write us for full particulars-- no obligation -- and we will send you also a beautiful 36- page book of recipes--all free. Write today. SKINNER MFG. CO. OMAHA, NEB. Ttm Largest Macaroni Factory tn Amerioa CLOTH MADE FOR SERVICE --and gives it. RENFREW DEVONSHIRE ATm-Dr* 12 INC»r Specially designed for mother*' house and outing dresses and young­ sters' play clothe*. Colors woven in, not printed oo. Made in white as well a* colon- Ask your local merchHtit. II ha can't *upply you, write us. The genuine ha* Renfrew Dmvonthirm* Cloth stamped on the selvage. RENFREW MANUFACTURING CO. Incorporated 1867 ADAMS. MASS. Dairy Farmers and Stock Raisers Wanted for the low priced prairie lands of the Southwest. Good grass; ample water supply: rainfall sufficient to mature all feed crops; health conditions unsurpassed. Market! for every gallonof cream and eveIT head of stock produced. Poul­ try raising a profitable side line.- Lands Ready for the Plow The Rock Island owns no lands for colonization, but we can put you in touch with pwners and furnish you with trustworthy in­ formation about the opportunities for farming. Write for free copies of The Southwest Trail,our month­ ly agricultural journal, and for dfr scriptive pamphlets about Eastern Colorado, Kansas, New Mexico^ Oklahoma and Northwest Texas. Address L FL ALLEN, Passenger frafflc NtufK, ROCK ISLAND LINES 736 La Sails Statiaa Chicago. 9L I