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•mm* ^ »«I IOM&' e&w 3fv By RANDALL PARR1SH . J.' out ljiwi Tlies. fHlows evidently^rere ! to t "WOLVES' HOLE.* ftllfepsla.--Tom Shelby, a raacher, ridea Into the frontier town of Ponca, looking for a good time after a long spell of hard work and loneliness on the ranch. Instead, he runs into a funeral--that of Diad Calkins, a retired army man of whom little Is known. A girl, still In her teens, survives Calkins. McCarthy, a saloon keeper and Ponca's leading citizen, decides that the girl, now alone In the world, should marry. She agrees to pick out a husband from the score of men lined up in her home. To his consternation, she selects Shelby, who had gone along merely as a rpectator. He declines the honor. Indignant, the girl dismisses the assemblage. Shelby runs into two of the rejected suitors, and in a fight worsts them both. Angered at their remarks, he returns ttf the girl, determined to marry herVyif she will have him. After his explanation she agrees to marry him. The wedding takes place and' the couple set out for Shelby's ranch. With them is "Kid" Macklin. whom Shelby has hired as a helper. On the way the girl tells her husband her name is Olga Carlyn, and also tells him something of the peculiar circumstances of her life. Upon arrival at the ranch Shelby Is struck down from behind and left for dead. He recovers consciousness to And that Macklin and his wif* have gone. He starts In pursuit. W-W t; " CHAPTER VII--Continued. Yet It was actually true; impossible as It seemed. It was nevertheless an Incontrovertible fact. He had never spoken to her a single word of love; he had never even kissed ber, and •till, before both God and man, she was his wife. The strangeness of the situation bewildered him. Why, he did not even know who she was; what right she had to claim the family name under which he had married her; what strange story of crime might shadow her history. It was all mystery, a mystery in which he was becoming deeply Involved. Calkins had evidently been hiding her from some fate, but whether of good or evil, could not yet be determined. This present abduction, beyond question, had to do with that concealed past, perhaps with some happening before she was even born. These fellows were not robbers; their raid was not Intended for any such purpose; they had touched nothing, even the horses were left undisturbed in the corral, Mid the moment they gained possession of her they had hurriedly departed. It had all been carefully planned, with Macklin to choose the time, and then executed quietly. Their only mistake was in leaving him behind alive. But for that one error no one ever would have known what had occurred, «T dreamed of her fate. And now, as^ sored of safety, believing the dead would tell no tales, that they had left behind no evidence of their crime, the outfit was riding carelessly across the lonely prairie, seeking somewhere a Safe rendezvous. Shelby reined his horse to the left, •nd sought a water hole he remembered. himself drinking first, and then Standing by while the animal quenched Its thirst Leaving the buckskin there, with rein trailing on the ground, he Climbed the steep side of a butte, and swept the distant horizon with a field glass. It was a trackless waste, drear and deserted of all life. Not a thing that moved crossed his range of vision; and, at last, he snapped the field glasses back into their case. Slipped down the steep face of the bstte, and silently remounted. The sun was some time past the Meridian, and he felt convinced those he followed could not be far from the trail he was endeavoring to locate. He came upon it in less than an hour, leading straight down a narrow valley, whose general course was directly west. He dismounted, and studied the tracks with care. This was his party beyond a doubt--five horses, one with <• split hoot f An hour later he found where the party had halted, made a fire among some rocks, and prepared food. He (Studied every sign with care, hoping for some message of guidance from lier; but there was none. Either she fe*d been too carefully watched by her CSptors, or had given up in despair any thought of rescue. Doubtless she believed him dead also; perhaps had even witnessed the blow struck, but If not would assuredly have been informed of what had happened. The "Stamping of the ponies' hoofs indicated that the party had remained In that spot for some time, in no hurry t» proceed1. Shelby studied the footfrints, satisfying himself t£at four Were Indian, and one white, unquestionably Macklin. With only five •, horses this meant that the girl rode with one of the men, probably the Kid. He •discovered where she probably was sitting during the meal, a torn piece of crumpled sacking bearing mute testimony that her hands had been bound, and released so that she might eat. The fellows were evidently unafraid of her any longer, and bad not tied her up again when they •esumed the Journey. It was nearly sundown when the trail he followed swerved to the right i'W a steep bank, where the ponies' hoofs slipped in their struggle to attain the top. Shelby gave the buck- Skin his head, and the game little devil went scrambling up, until they llame forth on a flat plain above. Shelby dropped his rein, and climbed to 4 higher point of rock, lying concealed behind its summit, while he swept the •Scene below through the field glasses. He never had been there before, yet He knew about where he was; this Ibnst be Dragoon creek, and not far below would be Wolves' hole, of which jto often had heard--a famous hiding jMace for cattle thieves and border heading for there, but would they try to complete the Journey? His hope centered on their camping somewhere until morning; If sufficiently assured of safety this would probably be their choice. Through the field glasses he studied the course of the stream, and the little patches of wood intently. At last he was rewarded--a faint spiral of blue smoke arose above some distant trees, the evidence of a campfire. He lay there motionless, silent, his eyes glued to the glass, planning his action, and waiting for the night. As the gloom slowly deepened Shel by was able to distinguish the flicker of that far-off fire, but the distance was too great to permit any knowledge of its surroundings, The trail leading down was narrow, and rockstrewn, and he determined to try the passage while a faint glimmer of twilight yet lingered. Leading the buckskin, and moving with the utmost cau* tion, he began the descent. The gloom did not greatly retard his movements, for, through the glasses, he had mapped out the salient features, and so impressed them upon his memory as to. go forward now confidently. The camp fire was located in the third grove of trees, and there were no signs of human presence between. However, he took no chance, but advanced quietly on foot, leading his horse, and using every precaution against discovery. He circled the two groves, keeping close in their shadow, and searching their depths anxiously for any sign of life. They were desolate and deserted, but, from the outer fringe of the second he could perceive plainly the dull glow of the fire a hundred yards ahead. It was no longer a flame, but a mere glimmer of red ashes, casting no reflection about, although clearly visible. He fastened the bronco'to a limb, within the circle of trees, and crouched forward alone, Winchester in hand, choosing his passage beneath the bank of the stream, and advancing with every precaution, pausing every few steps, to peer over the protecting bank, and thus assure himself that all remained quiet. When almost exactly opposite the red glow of the coals, he lay still, endeavoring vainly to learn the situation, and becoming: more and more puzzled. The camp appeared deserted, as' though the party which had halted there had already passed on. He could hear no sound, see no movement. The fire had died down Into a mere glimmer of red ashes, barely perceptible amid the surrounding gloom. Shelby drew himself forward, creeping like a snake, convinced that he was alone, yet no less alert and watchful. His progress was up a shallow depression, and he had attained the deeper shade of the trees, when, suddenly, a voice, apparently speaking not two yards distant, gave utterance to an oath of disgust. "H--1!" the voice said roughly, "there is no use waltin' for that guy any longer; no tellin' where he Is at by now." Shelby dropped flat on his face almost ceasing to breathe. The unseen party addressed stretched himself lazily, as evidenced by the rustle of leaves. "I reckon ye're right, Hank,** he admitted slowly, his speech heavy nm} i f. o-V He Circled the Two Qrovffr , cdli'lMiwr. "No tenderfoot ain't gdftf* ter make that trail at night. Mor'n likely he's almln' ter com' through the other way." "What'll we do, then--ride on?" "After a bit,; it's early yet, an* maybe it'll do no harm to'lie quiet awhile. But we kin light ujf, an' be comfortable." He struck a match, hollowing the flame in his hands, revealing the bearded face of a man of fifty, shadowed beneath a soft hat brim. Beyond him appeared the obscure outline of the other, a mere smudge. A moment the two puffed away contentedly, Shelby not venturing to move a muscle. "Say, Hanley, I've allers played my hand the best I knew how, but I do like ter know what the game Is I'm playin* at. What do yer know, anyhow?" The other chuckled in his beard, rustling his feet In the leaves. "Easier ter ask about than explain. Hank," he. answered slowly, "specially as there is things I don't just cotton Mostly I polled the facts out of that Kid Macklin when he w,as drunk, 'cause he wanted me (o help him. But It seems he's only hired fer the Job; it's that guy we're waltin' for who has got the real dop4, and likewise the long-green." "Churchill's his name, ain't It?" "That's the duffer; some big feller down East; Virginia, as I understand --Judge Cornelius Churchill; the whole story goes a h--1 of a long ways back." He leaned his head against the tree trunk behind him, puffing away at the cigarette between his bearded lips, the dull glow barely touching his face. The younger man leaned forward waiting. "Well," he said Impatiently, "that ain't all of it; what started the rumpus? What's the idea of stealin* the girl? An' Just whar do you an* me come in?" "Well, as I figure It, we've got to make our own medicine. You saw that outfit go along afore dark--Macklin an* the four reds?" "Sure; they had a woman with •em?" "That's the ticket, an' they was bound for Wolves' hole. I thought maybe they'd camp down here, but they didn't--Just kept movin'. Well, that's one thing you an* I laid out here for, to get a line on Macklin. The other thing is that this yere Cornelius Churchill is about due also, an' is most likely to blow In along this same trail. It is my notion to have a word privatelike with that gent before Joe gets to him--see?" "Can't say that I do, Henley, exactly. What's it all about--thd girl?" "Mostly, I reckon, an' a h--1 of a slice of money down East This is how the Kid blew it to me. It seems an army officer named Carlyn 'bout the time the Civil war closed, ran away with a Rose Churchill down In Virginia, and married her. All he cared for was the girl, an' he never even knew she was rich, only that her family objected to him, an' that they'd have to skip out I reckon, maybe, she didn't know It herself at the time, nor the rest o' the Churchill family, for they didn't make rto great e£er< to find her for some while. Then, when they opened a will, they discoyered that most all the Churchill fortune had been left to this Rose, and they naturally becom' mighty interested. Cornelius, as I understand, was the brother of Rose's father, an* the property was put in his hands as trustee on behalf of the girl. Maybe he was a straight enough guy generally speaking, but he had expected to get most of this dough after the girl skipped out, an* was consequently almighty hot. Naturally he wanted to keep the stuff, an' he didn't make no great effort to locate the heiress. By the time he did learn who she had matrled, Rose died, leaving a daughter. By the terms of the will if she died childless the entire estate reverted to Cornelius, and he wasn't the soft o' guy to lose that kind o' bet." "An' this soldier never suspected nothing?" Not a thing. He was a colonel by this time, out at some frontier post, and left his baby to the care of some relatives In the East. There wasn't no fuss made, an' so Churchill sorter let affairs slide alphg. He had the use of the money, an' begun to think there never would be no trouble. Of course he kept a line on the husband, but lost trace of the kid entirely." "Yer mean the colonel never even know'd he'd married a rich girl?" "So It seems. I reckon she didn't even know It, his wife. But after awhile some inkling of the truth must have reached him, for he vent East and began to make inquiries through a lawyer. When Churchill heard about this he got scared. I reckon he'd played h--1 with the trust fuiids by that time, an' with the husband on his trail got mighty desperate. Meanwhile the daughter was in some convent school, and not to be found. Carlyn struck a hot trail all right, but, before he could take any action, was shot and killed in a street fight with some roughs in Sheridan. Nobody knows for sure Just how It happened, but lt'« my opinion Churchill got up the row Just to get him out o' the way. It all happened sudden, an' unexpected, the only fellow with the colonel at the time being an old sergeant, named Calkins. Calkins was shot himself, but got away, and took care of Carlyn till he died, maybe an hour later. Enyhow he kept the fellows from getting hold o' any papers, an' I reckon the colonel give him an idea of what was up." "What makes yon think so?" "The way he acted afterward. Churchill had got Carlyn out of'the way, but he couldn't locate the girt He didn't suspect the sergeant at first, nor for a long time. He was a foxy guy, and stuck to the army for several years, never makln' a move, Just payln* for the girl's schoolln', but never goin' near her. Then, when everybody had quit watchin' him, Calkins took his discharge papers, and skipped out, takln' the girl with him." "How could he do that?" "That's what I asked Macklin, an' he said they'd finally -found out jthat durin' the time between when Carlyn was shot, an' when he died, he'd signed a paper makln' Calkins, the girl's guardian, an' gave him the l^ey to a deposit box In Kansas-City^ where all his papers was. A lawyer named Weeks, at Sheridan, did it for him. You see the colonel didn't have no near relatives, an' he an' Calkins had been soldiering together for years; he sorter trusted the sergeant to jplay square, an' he sure did!" > "The h--1 he did! Never made a peep for the money, did he? An' lost out an |pOTtndE tjie eotfbtry with 6ie girl. I dcta't call that playin' very Square." ' ' - "Well, It was. Just the same, d--d SQnere, If you arte me. It was what Weeks advised him to do, after he Went to Virginia, an* got a peep at a copy of the will on file. This girl had no legal rights till she was of age-- see! Churchill knew this, an' he didn't do much o' anything else fer ten years, but try to get his hands on her. Old Calkins was smart enough to fool him. The colonel had money enough In the deposit box, so jthey could live on It quietlike, an' the sergeant never wasted a cent He Just naturally lived for that girl, till about a month, ago. He was smart enough not even to trust her; she never knew what they was hldin' from." Hank touched a match to another cigarette. Impressed with the story. "Rum kind of a business, Td say," he admitted at last "but Just where did this devil's Imp of a Macklin fit In?" "I ain't got that all figured out yet" admitted Hanley. "Yon know pretty near as much about him as I do. Furst time I saw the feller he rode In yere along with Cassady's outfit, after that N. P. holdup, an' he's been tralnln' with Cassady more or less ever since. After I had this talk with him, when he was drunk, I put him to bed, an' picked up a letter, or two, what fell out of his pocket. I got some o' this stuff out o' them. One of them was written by Churchill, an' Judgin' from the way It read, the Kid ain't really named Macklin at all--he's a Churchill himself, the old cuss' son." "Well, I'll be d-<l I" "You know the rest ; how he stumbled onto o!' Calkins down In Ponca, an' what happened. You can't make me believe the old fellow killed himbrought him $ "Whet's the Idea of StealW.tfte Girlf self; he wasn't that klbd. But, however It happened, the girl was left helpless; then d--d if she didn't marry that rancher over on the Cottonwood, an' spoil the whole game." Hank laughed coarsely. "Tough luck; bpt the Kid played his hand all right." "Sure he did, but he had to bean this fellow Shelby. Except for that Job It wasn't so bad, for It \fras easier to get her where he wanted her. I don't know how he'd have managed at Ponca, but there was Just the three of 'em on the Cottonwood." "And dead men don't talk.** "Well, they're safer than live ones, enyhow. Then this Injun outbreak comln' right now makes the get-away plum easy. He can hide her away back In the Hole as long as he d--n pleases. Everything will he 'laid to the Sioux for awhile." t "It's a sure break, then?" "Sure; all the young backs are already out. Macklin had four with him on this chase--took 'em on purpose, so If they was ever trailed they'd say Jt was an Injun Job. Oh, he's covered up things all right You got It straight now?" Hank drew up his feet until his chin rested on his knees, the tip of the cigarette glowing. "I got It straight enough, so far as that goes, Hanley, but I don't see what the h--1 we're goin' to get out of It" "You've got the same love for the Kid I have, ain't yer?" "Just about, I reckon. I'd sure like to take a good .swipe at the ornary cuss." "That's what I thought. Well, he ain't goin' to do nothln' desperate to this young woman till he hears from the old man. This affair has been pulled off hurriedlike, an* all the Kid has got in his mind right now Is to hide her away somewhere, until old Churchill shows up, and decides what to do with her." • "What do you suppose hell decide?" "Well, my notion Is that If Macklin Is the old man's son, he'll try to force hflp Jnto marryin' the boy. That would be the easy way, an' I believe that will likely be their scheme. My idea Is to put a crimp In It" ^ "How?" "By getting hold of he? ourselves before the old man shows up, an* then doin' business with him." "Where'll we take her?" "Back Into Wolves' hole; there's hldln' places there a plenty, an' with them Injuns raisin' h--1 up north, It'll be safe enough, until the war's over enyhow. What do yer say?" "H--1, I don't care; there ain't nuthln' to lose. You got the Kid them Injuns, didn't you?" "Yes; he never told enybody what was up but me. All right, let's mosey along; there's no use stayln' here." , ii , CHAPTER VIII. The Trail to Wolves' Hole. Shelby lifted himself on one elbow, and ventured to breathe easily once more. The vague shadows of the two men had vanished, but their progress through the underbrush could be plainly distinguished. Feeling themselves absolutely alone In that wilderness mule the T__ fluently. on 'the of the eyes through the A strahge fortune the very information he most peeded. His whole thought centered instantly on the fate of the girl. Whet conrss would she choose under these elrcumstances, when the facts were finally revealed to her? Undoubtedly she believed him dead; her captors would Impress that fact upon her first of all, so as to make her realize her complete helplesshess. Besides, she cared nothing for him; had married him indifferently, merelx^Jjp thus escape from a worse faterlSe could not hope that loyalty to him, under such conditions, would greatly influence her de» cision. Somehow the thought hurt Shelby, and brought to him the knowledge that he did care. He cared very much indeed, and this truth colored his thought and decision. He dare not follow those men at present; he could only wait where he was, and plan his eourse of action. There was no danger of his losing them, for he knew where they were going, and, in a measure, at least, about who they were. Shelby had never been In that strange sink known as Wolves' hole, but he had talked with a man who had. An immense hole in the Bad Lands, through which flowed a branch of the Cottonwood, a strange malformation of nature, so completely concealed as to be Invisible until the surprised traveler stood on Its very edge, and stared down Into the gloomy depths below. The walls %-ere precipitous, impassable except on foot by da'yllght, and at only two points could the sink be entered on horseback; from the west beneath the protection of a cataract, where the stream plunged headlong over a high ledge of stone-, and from the other extremity down a narrow ravine through a tunnel Scooped out by some torrent In long-past ages. Originally discovered by wandering trappers, who camped there out of the winter storms, It had later become the headquarters for an Illicit Indian trade in liquor, and finally the rendezvous for criminals of all kinds, eager to ge$ beyond the reach of the law. It was rumored that there was actually a town there, with women of a class, with a certain rude attempt at government by a few self-constituted authorities. , "What a hole! What a freak of nature 1 What a wilderness hiding placer* (TO BE CONTINUED.) RIVERS TURNED INTO SEWERS Streams That Once Were Famous Lon- Thoroughfares Now Are |R& % Under the Ground. > - ^ The river Tyburn, which, along with the Thames, helped to make Westminster, in London, an island in Saxon times, can still be traced from the Marble arch neighborhood to Westminster. It originally flowed through Hyde park and St. James' park at a time when these were marshlands. Several feet below the pavement In Great College street are the remains of a bridge which spanned the Tyburn at this spot Just before It entered the Thamesi But the most famous of all the burled rivers of London is undoubtedly the Fleet It flowed through Jack Ketch's warren, where dwelt at times such notorious characters as Dick Turpin and Jack Sheppard. It was a favorite dodge of the highwaymen and other thieves who Infested the district of Saffron hill and Hatton garden to drop through a trapdoor to the Stygian banks of the Fleet, pull a plank after them and so escape capture by the Bow street runners. The Fleet ditch ran into the Thames at Blackfriars, and small craft used to put Into It with merchandise. In the middle of the city was thq Wellbrooke, and on the east side thp Langbourne, and In the western suburbs the pleasant stream of the Oldbourne, also deep enough to accommodate good-sized craft Other London rivers not yet whoHy sewers are the Roding, the Lea, the Ravensbourne and the Wandle, but the Brixton Is no longer visible anywhere. Owls Lodge in Oxford. Owls, as is proper in the chse of birds of such renowned solemnity and secluded habit, have always exhibited a particular liking for Oxford, where more thaif one college, but particularly Worcester, has Its colony. Recently they have established ft new colony In the ivy-covered walls of the Bodleian library and the Tower of. the Five Orders, In the Old School# quadrangle. h Members of the Bodley staff now ocf caslonally find relaxation from theif duties by rescuing the young birds which find their way down on to th« pavement of the quadrangle, and art unable to fly up to their nests.--West* minster Gazette. ASIight Omission. Bertie--Good heavens I What a Sight you are I Reggie--Just as I was leaving the house to come to the club my wtfs pelted me with flowers. "But that doesn't accoudt for yomhj bruised and battered appearance." "No. you see, she forgot to take thenr out of the pots 1"--From the Edinburgh Scotsman. Odd Newspaper SubeeHptlene. * Greenland hasn't many newspaper^ of any kind, but the oddest of then|. all Is a monthly paper called the Kalorlkmit. (Did you get your tongue twisted after pronouncing this name?) The most unusual thing about this paper Is that a three months* subscript tion costs two ducks, while It require# a sable skin to pay for a year. Off Thing*Certaln. . A New York apartment house advertises several six-room suites at 117,500 a year. We know nothing about these suites, but we do know that the tenant who occupies one of them doesn't make his money plckin§ cotton or working In a sawjnill.--How ton Post. ' ^ . - *. / v ** > '<• > '."i • 'acres „ -.;.j 'or 9 m fT kit The Genesee Pure Food Companv: ^;;:^te Roy, N.Y WOODS THEATRE, CHICAGO Don't fall to see D W. Griffith's "WAY DOWN EAST" "An unexampled wonder of the 20th century" -- Editorial 61 the 1 u^. tWICE DAILY--MATINEE 2:15; NIGHTS 8:IS / M . SSctofUl Hundreds turned away at each performance. I0ctot2.0l "Mr Mother, 75 yaarc old, oved DODD'S KIDNEY PILLS for her back. She could hardly stand up straight. Three day»' sn brought a big: change. Upon finishing the whole box ahe la well again; feels as younjr as a :fl&sr-BoOWET-TCHER, 187 W. George Street, St. Paul. Minn, Ask your druggist or order direct from Dodd'a Medicine Co... Buffalo, N. T. Only 60a and Guaranteed. Diamond Dinner Pills F or C oi\,st jpatioirNi'\ Grip*' "YANKS" GOT THEIR COFFEE Sergeant's Personal "Kick" to King George Brought About the Desired Change in Rations. Sergeant Gayon of "B" troop, American forces In Germany, has the distinction of having his ration changed by direct orders from King George. When the American army polo team from Coblenz was in England recently, Guyon had charge of the ponies at Aldershot. The king visited the field and was attracted by the ponies' blankets bearing the letters "A. F. G.M He approached to inspect them and addressed Guyon. "Well, how are yoa getting alone In England?" The British Tommies nearby standing rigidly at attention were "petrified by Guyon's reply: "Oh, pretty well, king, but say, this tea we have for breakfast is fierce--Ain't you fix It up so we can have coffee?" The king laughed and addressing one of his aides said: "See to it that these men have coffee hereafter." And the Americans bad coffee. Great House Mystery. *Well, I succeeded 4n leasing a house." "What on e^rth is the matter with it?" "Dunno, but It must be something terrible. The landlord voluntarily offered to paper It throughout."--Louisville Courier-Journal. *"• Deserved a 8harp RepreeC, "Alice ought to do well in music. Not only are her parents musical, but sbe was born in A fiat." "Then, of course, it would B natural for her to make a success."--Boston Transcript. No More Misery After Eating Just Tmkom An Eatonto "The first dose of Eatonic did me wonders. I take it at meals and am no longer bothered with indigestion," writes Mrs. Ellen Harris. Thousands of people, like this dear lady, gratefully testify about Eatonic, which dees its wonders by taking up and carrying out the excess acidity and gases which bring on indigestion, heartburn, bloating, belching and food repeating. Acid stomach also causes about seventy other non-organic ailments. Protect yourself. A big box of Eatonic costs but « trifle with your druggist's guarantee. Children's Coughs nay be checked and nor* aerioua coodlttoo* of the throat oftea will be avoided by promptly giviac the child a doee of aeM PI SO S GENTLE JOLT FOR SWEENY Possibly There Are Others Whs Might Benefit by Reflecting on George's Observation. Frothingham Dodge, the Boston municipal reformer, in the course of an address to Harvard students, said: "Man wasn't made to loaf. The minute he begins to loaf be takes te drink or hypochondria--1 don't know which is worse. "There's a loafing hypochondriac named Sweeny who spends all his time talking about his health. He's always ailing, and usually when you go to Bee him you find him In bed with a headache or rheumatism or dyspepsia or what not. "Sweeny was tottering feebly down the street one day when he fell In with a burly friend named George. " 'George,' be said, 'I'd give anything to be as strong and healthy as you are. What do you live on?* "'I live on fruit,' said George. " 'Fruit, ehT said Sweeny eagerly. 'That sounds good. I'll have to try it What kind of fruit, George?' "The fruit of labor,' £eat£e an* Swered significantly." Vacuum-Cleaning the Cat. Hold the sweeper near the cat, turn on the current, and then comb or brush the animal's fur. The suction of the machine will take np the loose hairs. Look, into itl If tea or coffee drink*" ing disturbs health or ^ •comfort, switch to INSTANT There's a big £ain toward he alth., with convenience, economy, and no loss in aatiisfertioa GROCERS EVERYWHERE SELL POSTUM lb<tttmC^realQjiiipaiy,B>c. Battle Creek,Midi. , MM# BBBr i. •"•mA ,**«• (CM Set-- ChiI Cuf1*