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=; •;"; vV,. THE KIAPBF FLA IND*AFCMT, -.. ... •!»-.. • • - . • . ' - npvwwwwriwi 3- «. f ?rsW¥Or|S» '•'i By Jr^Btr5 GEORGE BARR MCCUTCHEOM ,; „:•* ., ** r, ^ f .:»••••.:.- |&Pli ^ '^-7 • iriv • p^..V i.^i»4fciwr - Jtr-.i-~~.-tV' . . - it Copyright by Doild. Meni A Company. Ine. >»i MU "SHE'S G0NE1" SYNOPSIS.--K«nn«th O wynne was live years old In the spring of 1812 when his" father ran away from Kentucky with Rachel Carter, a widow. They took with them Minda Carter, Rachel's baby daughter. In the fall Kenneth's mother died of a broken heart. His grandparents brought him up to hate the name of Rachel Carter, "an evil woman." Kenneth, now a young lawyer, seeks lodging for the night at the farm of Phlne&s Striker, near Lafayette, Ind. It appears that Ken's father has recently d)t>d and that he ts on his way to take possession of extensive lands he has inherited. The Strikers bought their farm of Ken's father and a mortgage runs to his father's widow--the Rachel Carter. X beautiful nineteen-yearold girl, who says she knew hts father well and refuses to give her name. Is visiting the Strikers. Ken is much interested In her. CHAPTER II--Continued. He pried open the tight little winfew, letting a draft of fresh air rash Into the stifling attic. Then he sat an the edge of the tick for a few minutes, ruminating, his gaze fixed thoughtfully on the sputtering, imperiled candle. He said his prayers^- he never forgot to say the prayer his mother bad taught him--blew out the candle, pulled the blankets up to HM chin, and was soon fast asleep. He did not know what time it was ijifcen he was aroused by the barking Striker's flbgs, loud, furious bark- -AiK and ugly growls, signifying the presence In the Immediate neighborfcood of the house of some Intruder, man or beast. Shaking off the sleep that held him, he crept to the window and looked out. The moon was gone and the stars had almost faded from Ike Inky black dome. ' Suddenly his gnze fell upon a light moving among the trees some distance ftrom the cabin. "As he watched he heard some one stirring in the room below. Then the Cabin door creaked on Its rusty hinges and almost immediately a Jumble of subdued hoarse voices came up to him. He felt for kls pistols and realized with something of a shock that he had left them tl the kitchen with Zijchariah. The dogs, admonished by a sharp word or two, ceased their barking. This reassured him, for they would obey no one except Phineas Striker. Whoever was at the cabin door, there was no longer any question In his mind as to the peaceful nature of the itslt. He crept over to the trapdoor and cautiously attempted to lift it an Inch or so, the better to hear what whs going on, but try as he would ha could not budge the covering. The murmur of voices went on for a few minutes longer, and then he heard the •oft, light pad of feet on the floor below; sibilant, penetrating whispers; • suppressed feminine ejaculation followed by the low laugh of a man. a liugh that might well have been detitribed as a chuckle. For a long time he lay there listening to the confused sound of whispers. the stealthy shuffling of feet, the quiet opening and closing of a door, nnd then there was silence. Several minutes passed. He stole t*ck to the window. The light In the forest had vanished. Just as he was an the point of crawling into bed again, another sound struck his ear: the unmistakable rattle of wagon Wheels on their axles, the straining of harness, the rasp of tug chains-- flte near at hand. Presently the Utont door of the cabin squealed on ft1 hinges, the latch snapped and the •Jpblt fell carefully into place. He could not go to sleep again. His train was awake and active, filled with unanswered questions, beset by endless speculation. The first faint •Ign of dawn, creeping through the Window, found him watching eagerly. Impatiently for Its appearance. - •riw 8Quare little aperture was ^Marly defined against the graying before Le distinguished signs of activity In the room below. Striker fcaa up and moving about. '. Kenneth, despite his longing for ,'jHs very hour to come, now perversely wished to sleep. A belated -hot beatific drowsiness seized him. He was only half-conscious of the Boise that attended the lifting of the ^(fapdoor. "Wake npl Time to git up," a distant voice was calling, and he suddenly opened his eyes very wide and found himself staring at a shaggy, * unkempt head sticking up out of the floor. ^That you. Striker?" he mumbled. "YeP-->t's me. Time to git up. Five •'clock. Sleep well?" "Passably, l was awakened some : time In the night by your visitors." Striker was silent for a moment. &,,/ spa thought maybe you'd be disturbed, §. #plte of all we could do to *f*ag quiet k' f <-f*f.po88l 1 ll,e' People from a farm i\ * j * Jtother side of the plains." The head disappeared, and in a very L~ r, *®W nilnutes Gwynne, carrying his - ii coat and waistcoat, descended the ladder Into the presence of a roaring fire. Eliza was preparing breakthe gray half-light he made V ©ot Striker and Zacharlah moving •boat the barnlot. A rough but clean •' towel hung across the board wall of rv; <b® well, while a fresh bucket of wa- ' :fer stood on the shelf Inside, its chain jjianging limply froip the towering end ^ «f the "h'istlng pole." They ate breakfast by candle light. ItfllKr and Bltza and Kenneth. There Jips no sign of the beautiful and ex- #4parating girl. Phineas was strudge- |y glum and preoccupied, bis wife too busy with her flapjacks to take ~ i the slightest luwwi ia dea- "A little tod early for my fellowguest to be up and about, I sets." ventured Kenneth at last, taking tlie bull by the horns, -ills curiosity had to be satisfied. Striker did not look up from his plate. "She's gone. She ain't here." "Gone?" "Yep. Left jlst a little while 'fore sun-up." "Her ma sent for her," volunteered Eliza. "Sent fer her to come in' a hurry," added Striker, .trying to*be castfftl. "Then it was she who went away in the wagon last night," said the young man, a note of disappointment in his voice. "I trust her mother Is not ill." "No tellin'," was Striker's non-committal response. It was quite apparent to Kenneth that they did not wish to discuss the matter. He waited a few moments before remarking: "I saw a light moving through the woods above here--a lantern, I took It to be--just after I was awakened by the barking of the dogs. I thought at first it was that which set the dogs off on a rampage." Striker was looking at him Intently under his bushy eyebrows, his knife poised halfway to-his lips. "Hunters, I reckon, goin' down stream for wild diick and geese this mornin. There's a heap o" ducks an geese passin' over--" "See here, Phineas," broke In his wife suddenly, "what's the sense of sayin' that? You know It wasn't duck hunters. Nobody's out shooting ducks with the river as high as it Is down this way, an' Mr. Gwynne knows It if he's got half as much sense as I think he has." "When I heard people out in. front of the cabin shortly afterward, I naturally concluded that the lantern belonged to them," remarked the young man. „ • * "Well, It didn't," said Striker, laying down his knife. "I guess It won't hurt you to know now somethln' that will be of considerable interest to you later on. I ain't betrayin' nobody's secret, 'cause I said I was goin* to tell you the whole story." - "Don't you think you'd better let it come from somebody else, Phln?' interposed his wife nervously. "No, I don't, Eliza. 'Cause why.? 'Cause I think he'd ort to know. Maybe hell be able to put a stop to her foolishness. We didn't know until long after you went to bed that her real reason fer comln' here yesterday was to run ofT an' get married to Barry Lapelle. She didn't tell you ho lies about her clothes an' all that' 'cause her ma had put herifoot down on her takin' off black, lliey had It all planned out beforehand, her an' this Lapelle. He was to come fer her some time before daybreak with a couple of hosses an' they was to be off before the sun was up. on their way to Attica where they was to be married, an* then go on down the river to his home in Terry Hut. Me an' Elhsa set up all nightln that bedroom, tryin' to coax her out of it. I don't like this Lapelle feller. He's a handsome cuss, but he's as wild as all get out--drinks, gambles, an' all setch. Well, to make a long story short, her ma must have found out about their, plans, 'cause she come here herself with two of her hired men an' old Cap'n 8cott, a friend of the fam'ly, an' took her daughter right out from under Barry's nose. It was them you heard down here last night. I will say this fer the girl, she kinder made up her mind 'long about midnight that it was a foolish thing to do, runnin' off like this with Barry, an' irke as not when the time coiae she'd have backed out." "Her mother don't want her to marry Lapelle. She's dead sot ag'inst it. It's a mighty funny way fer the girl to act, when she's so fond of her mother. All the more reason fer her to stick to her mother when it's a fact that the old woman ain't got what you'd call a friend in the whole deestrlct: She's a queer sort of woman-- close an' stingy as all get out, an' as hard as a hickory log. 'Course, I understand why she's so sot ag'inst Barry. She's purty well off an' the girl will be rich some day." "Shucks!" exclaimed Eliza. "Barry Lapelle's after her 'cause she's the purtlest girl him or anybody else has ever seen. He's got plenty of money himself, so they say, so why--" "I ain't so sure about that," &roke in her husband. "There's a lot of talk about him gamblin' away most everything his father left him. I guess she's kinder lost her head over him. He's an awful feller wkh women, so good lookin' an' all, an' so different from the farm boys aroun' here. Alius got good clothes on, an' they say he has fit a couple of duels down the river.-- Someliow that alius appeals to young glrte." Gwynne was decidedly opset by the revelations •) a vftgue dream, barely begun. carif6 to a sharp and disagreeable end. "She actually had planned to run away with this man Lapelle?" he exclaimed, frowning, "it was all arranged?" "So i take It,- said Striker. "The fellow must he an arrant scoundrel," declared the young man angrily. "No gentleman would subject an Innocent girl to such--" "All's well that ends well, as the feller says," Interrupted Striker, arising fFom the table, "At least fer the present. She seemed sort of wlllln' to go home with her ma, so I guess her heart ain't everlastingly busted I thought It was best to tell you all rthls, Mr. Gwynne, 'cause I got a sneakin' idea you're goin' to sea a lot of that girl, maybe you'U torn oat to be a source of help in tlB*-Q*,.^oO-*ttiemory than that of his own mdther. ble to r ^ t ^ "I fail trt nnderstand Just what you mean. Striker. She Is an absolute stranger to me." "Well, we'll see what we si tall See," said Striker, cryptically. Half an hour later Kenneth and his servant mounted the»r horses in the barnyard and prepared to depart. "Follow this road back to the cross- In' an' turn to your left" directed Striker, "an' 'fore yon know.lt you'li be In Lay-flat, as they call It down In Crawfordsville, Remember, you're alius most welcome here. I reckon we'll see somethln' of each other as time goes on." He walked alongside Gwynne's stirrup as they moved down toward the road. "Some day," said the young man, WI should like to have a? long talk with you about my father. You knew him well and I--by the way, your lovelorn friend knew him also." The other was silent for half a dozen paces, looking straight ahead. "Yes," said he, with curious deliberation. "She "was sayin' as how she told you a lot about him last nlglit-- what sort of a man he was, an' ail that." "She told me nothing that--" "Jlst a moment, Mr. Gwynne," said Striker, laying his hand on the rider's knee. Kenneth drew rein. "I guess maybe you didn't know who she was talk|n' ahoqt at the time, but it was y6ur father she was describing We uWe All Three Knowed Somathin' That You Didn't Know." all three knowed somethln' that you didn't knojv, fin' It's only fair fer inc. to tell you the truth, now that she's out of the way. That girl was Viola Gwyn, an* she's your half-sister." CHAPTER III Reflections and an Encounter. The sun was barely above the eastward wall of trees when Kenneth and his man rodfr away from the home of Phineas Striker. ' The master was In a thoughtful, troubled mood. What he had just heard from the lips of the settler disturbed him greatly. That beautiful girl his half-sister! The child of his own father and the bated Rachel Carter! Ra chel Carter, the woman he'had bfen brought up to despise, the harlot who had stolen his father away, the scarlet wanton at whose door,the death of his mother was laid! Thut evil woman, Rachel Carter! . Could she, this foulest of thieves, be the mother of so lovely, so sensitive, so perfect a creature as Viola Gwyn? He revisuallzed tfte woman lie had known in his earliest childhood. Strangely enough, the face of Rachel Carter had always remained more firmly, more indelibly impressed upon his This queer, unusual circumstance may be easily, reasonably accounted for; his grandfather's dogged, almost dally lessons in hate. He was not allowed to forget Rachel Carter--not for one Instant. Always she was kept before him by that "bitter, vindictive old man who was his mother's father-- even up to the day that he lay oh his deathbed. Small wonder, then, that his own mother's face had faded from his memory while that of Hachel Carter remained clear and vivid, as he had < known It now for twenty years. Then there had been little Minda-- tlnyx Minda who existed vaguely as a name, nothing more. He had a dim recollection of hearing his elders say that the babe with the yellow curls had been drowned when a boat turned over far away in the big brown river. Some one had come to his grandfather's house with the news. He recalled hearing the talk about the accident, and his grandfather lifting his fist toward the sky and actually blaming God for something! He never forgot that His grandfather had blamed I '4 Striker had explained the somewhat distasteful scrutiny to which he had been subjected the night before. All three of them, knowing him to be Viola's blood relation, were studying his features with interest seeking! for a trace of family resemblance, not alone to his father but to the girl herself. This had set him thinking. There was not, so far as he could determine, the slightest likeness between him and his beautiful half-sister; there was absolutely nothing to indicate that their sire was one and the same man. Pondering, he now understood what Striker meant in declaring that he ought to know the truth about the frustrated elopement. And Kenneth felt a new weight of responsibility as unwelcome to him as it was certain to be to Viola; for, when ail was saiil and done, she was her mother's daughter and, as such, doubtless looked upon him through the mother's eyes, seeing a common enemy. Still, she was his half-sister and, whether he liked it or not, he was morally bound to stand between her and disaster--and if Striker was right, ftmrriage with the wild Lapelle spelled disaster of the worst kind. He had only to recall, however, the unaccountable look of hostility with which she had favored him inore than once during the evening to realize that he was not likely to be called upon for either advice or protection. He tnused aloud, with the shrug of a philosopher: "Heigh-ho! I fear me I shall have small say as to the conduct of this newly-found relation. The only tie that bound us Is gone. She Is not only the child of my father, whom she feared and perhaps hated, but of mine ehemy, whom she loves--so the case Is clear. There is a wall between us. and I shall not attempt to surmount It. What a demnition mess It has'turned out to be. I came prepared to find only the creature I have scorned and despised, and I discover that I have a sister so beautiful that, not knowing her at all. my eyes are dazzled and my heart goes fo thumping like any silly schoolboy's. Atye. 'tis a very sorry pass. Were it iril*so demned upsetting, it would be amusing. Fate never played a wilder prank. 'What, ho, Zachariah ! Where are we now? Whose farm is that upon the ridge?" Zachariah. urging his horse forward, consulted his memory. Striker had mentioned the farms they were to pass en route, -and the features by Which they were to be identified. "Well, Marse Kenneth, ef hit nln' de Sherry place hit shorely am de Sheridau place, an' ef lilt ain't nuther one o' dem hit mus' belong to Marse Dimmit er--Is yo* gwlne to stop dere, Marse K<*"i>eth?" "No. I shall ride out from town some day soon to look the place over," said his master, with a pardonable lordliness of mien, becoming'to a landed gentleman. "Our nffairs at present lie in the town, for there is much to be settled before 1 take charge. Striker tells me the man who is farming the *Xl?**X*X*X4X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X*X«X*X*X*X*X*X*X<9>X*X*X*X*X* MASCOTS OF THE STAGE WOMEN Actresses Have All Sorts of "Lucky" Nicknacks on Their Dressing Tables. **What a lot of mascots 1" That is one of the first thiftga that most nontheatrical folk»exclaim on looking at an actress' dressing table. There are queer, ugly golliwogs, horseshoes of all sorts and sizes, every kind of tiny toy, and quaintly gay pincushions, while first-night wires, wishing luck, are pinned up on the looking glass or wall. These are Just a few of the treasurea. , Why such a collection? jroo may ask. The answer would almost Invariably be that they were "lucky," that they had brought new contracts and happy engagements at one time or another, and so they must find a place on the dressing table. Stage folk, you see, are superstitious. There are lots of ttings the beginner has to learn wjien she first enters the profession. She must never, on any account, whistle in the dining room, it's- terribly unlucky. If she should, she must go out turn round three times outside the door, and then knock to be admitted again. > If she sees a piece of cotton or thread of any sort hanging on to any one else's clothes she should immediately pick It off and\kcep It, because I It mean* a new contract for her. I Two very old stage superstitions are uever to quote "Macbeth" and never to wear real flowers on the stage. This is seldom done, even now. There may be a good reason for this superstition, because if the petals should drop they might cause players to slip on the stage. A very lucky omen Is for a blob of carmine grease paint to get accidentally smeared on the teeth while the actress Is "making up" her lips. Shf wipes it off jnost carefully and lovingly! And she collects and keeps all her little mascots, and takes them about with her from place to place if she is on tour, putting them In just the same positions on her dressing table every week. For they've brought her luck, she says, and they are going to bring her still more!--London Tlt-Blts, Flying Speed of Birds. The crow Is the least rapid of a list of 22 migratory birds, flying an insignificant average of 45 feet a second, or 80 miles an hour. Curlews and Jacksnipes can fly 55 and 65 feet a second, while quails, prairie chickens and ruffled grouse can make 75 feet. The dove can reach a speed of 100 feet a second, or 68 miles an hour, although its usual rate is less. Redheads, bluewinged teals, green-winged teals, Canada geese and different varieties of brant can fly over 100 feet a second. place IS an able, honest fellow. I shall not disturb htm. From what he says, my property Is more desirable in every way than the land that fell to my father's widow. Her farm lies off to our left, It seems, and reaches almost to the bottomlands of the river. We, Zachariah, are out here in the fertile prairie land. Our west line extends along the full length of her property. So, you see, the only thing that separates the two farms is an Imaginary line no wider than your little finger, drawn by a surveyor and established by law." They passed log cabin# and here and there pretentious frame houses standing back from the road in the shelter of oak and locust groves. Their passing was watched by curious women and children In dooryards and porches, while from the fields men waved greeting and farewell with the single sweep of a hat. pn every barn door the pelts of foxes 'rind raccoons were stretched and nailed. Presently they drew near to a line reaching off to the; west, and apparently ending in a wocnled knoll, a quarter of a mile away. "There," said Kenneth, with a wave of his hand, "is where I shnll some day erect a mansion, Zachariah, that will be the wonder and the envy of all the people in the country. For unless I am mistaken, that Is the grove of oaks that Striker mentioned. Behold, Zachariah. all that Is mine. Four hundred acres of as fine farm land as there Is In all the world, and timber unparalleled. Yei, I am right. There Is the house that Striker described, the place where my father lived when he first came to the Wea. Egad, 'tis not a regal palace, is it, Zachariah? The most Imposing thing about it is the chimney." They were gazing at a cabin that squatted meekly over against the wall of oaks. It was, In truth, the most primitive and insignificant house they had seen that day. "He was one of the first to build In this virgin waste," mused the young man aloud. "Rough and parlous were the days when he came to this land, Zachariah. There was no town of Lafayette, no neighbors save the rude, uncultured trappers. Now see how the times have changed. And, mark "my guess, Zachariah, there will be still greater changes before we are laid away. There will be cities and-- Ha! Look, Zachariah, to the right of the grove. It is all as Striker said. There is the other house--two miles or more to the westward. Tljat Is her house." He drew rein and gazed at the distant house. His face clouded, bis jaw was set, and his eyes Were hard. "Yes, that would be Rachel Carter's house," he continued, harshly. "Her land and my land lying side by side, with only a fence between** Her grain and my grain growing out of the same soil. What an unholy trick for fate to play. Perhaps she is over there, even now. She and Viola. It is not likely that they would have started for town at an earlier hour than this. And to think of the damnable situation 1 shall find in town." , And so„ they rode again, at times breaking into a smart canter where the road was solid, but for the most part proceeding with irksome slowness through the evil slough. Ahead lay the dense wood they were to traverse before coming to the town. Suddenly Zachariah called his master's attention to a horseman who rode swiftly, even recklessly, across the fields to their left and well ahead of them. They watched the rider with interest, struck by the furious pace he was holding, regardless of consequences either to himself or his steed. "Mus' be somebody pow'ful sick, Marse Kenneth, fo' dat man to be ridin* so fas'," remarked Zachariah. "Going for a doctor, I sup-- Begad, he must have come from Rachel Carter's farm! There Is no other house In sight over in that direction. I wonder if--" He did not complete the sentence, but frowned anxiously as he. looked over, his shoulder at the distant house. - Judging by the manner nnd the direction In which he was galloping, the rider would reach the main road a quarter of a mile ahead of them, about at the point where it entered the wood. Kenneth now made out an unfenced wagon road through the field, evidently a short cut from Rachel Carter's farm to the highway. He permitted himself a faint, sardonic smile. This, then, was to be her means of reaching the highway rather than to use the lane that ran past his house and, no doubt, crossed a section of his farm. Sure enough, the horseman turned into the road some distance ahead of them and rode straight for the forest. Then, for the first time, Gwynne observed a second rider, motionless at the rbadside, and in the shadow of the towering, leafless trees that marked the portal through which they must enter the forest. The flying horseman slowed down as he neared this solitary figure, coining to a standstill when be reached his side. A moment later, both riders were cantering toward the wood, apparently iii excited, earnest conversation. A few rods farther on, both turned to look over their shoulders at the slow-moving travelers. Then they stopped, wheeled about and stood still, awaiting their approach. Kenneth experienced a poignant thrill of apprehension. What was be to expect: a friendly or a sanguinary encounter? He slipped his right hand Into the saddle pocket and drew forth a pistol which he shoved hastily into his waistcoat, covering the stock with the folds of his cape. "Keep a little way behind me," he said to his servant, a trace of excitement In his voice. "Yas, suh," said Zachariah, with more alacrity than valor, the whites of his eyes betraying something more than a readiness to obey this conservative order. It was a foregone conclusion that Zachariah would turn tall and flee the Instant there was a sign of danger. When not more than fifty yards separated the two parties, one of the men, with a word and an Imperative Jerk of the head to his companion, advanced slowly to meet Kenneth. This man was the one who had waited for the other at the edge of the wood. Gwynne< beheld a tall, strongly-built F^ung man, who rode his horse with the matchless grace of an Indian. Alranging In speed from 68 to 98 miles though his companion was roughly an hour, bnt usually 8| tt %, such i dressed and wore a coonskln cap, this slower gnit. {man wti unmistakably a dandy. Hit high beaver hat observed • jaunty, rakish tilt; his brass-buttoned coat was the color of wine and of the latest fashion, while his snug-fitting pantaloons were the shade of the mouse. There were sliver spurs on his stout riding boots, and the wide cuffs of his gauntlets were embroidered In silver. He was a handsome fellow of the type described as dashing. Dark, gleam* ing eyes peered out beneath thick, black eyebrows, which met In an unbroken line above his nose. Set In a face of unusual pallor, they were no doubt rendered superlatively brilliant by contrast. His skin was singularly white above the bluish, freshly-shaven cheeks and chin. His hair was black and long and curling. The thin lips, set and junsmiling, were nevertheless drawn up slightly at one corner of the mouth in what appeared to be a permanent stamp of superiority and disdain, or even contempt. Altogether, a most striking face, thought Gwynne, and the man himself a person of importance. "Good morning," said this lordly gentleman, bringing his horse to a standstill and raising his "gad" to the brim of his hat in a graceful salute. Gwynne drew rein alongside. He had observed In a swift glance that the stranger was apparently unarmed, except for the short, leather gad. "Good morning," he returned. "I am on the right road to Lafayette, I take it?" "You are," said the other. "From Crawfordsville way?" "Yes. I left that place yesterday. I come from afar, however. This ia'a strange country to me." , "It is strange to most of us. Unless I am mistaken," sir, you are Mr. Kenneth Gwynne." The other smiled. *^ly approach appears to be fairly well heralded. Were I a vain person I shojild feel, highly complimented." "Then you are Kenneth Gwynne?* said tl<e stranger, rather curtly. "Yea. That is my name." "Permit me to make myself known to you. My name is Lapelle--Barry Lapelle. While mine no doubt is unfamiliar to you, yours is well known to me. In fact, It is known to every one in these parts. You have long been expected. Yon will find the town anxiously awaiting your appearance. I am on my way to town, Mr. Gwynne, so If you do not mind, I shall give myself the pleasure of riding along with you for a short distance. I shall have to leave you soon, however, as I am due in the town by ten-o'clock. You are too heavily laden, I see, to travel at top speed--and that Is the- way I am obliged to ride, curse the luck. When I have set you straight at the branch of the roads a little way ahead, I- shall use the spurs--and see you later on." "You are very kind. I will be pleased to have you Jog along with me." GHAPTElNV • Barry Lapelle. So this was Barry Lapelle. This was the wild rake who might yet become his brother-in-law, and whose sprightly enterprise had been frustrated by a woman who had, herself, stolen away In the dark of a far-off night. As they rode slowly along, side by side, Into the thick of the forest, Kenneth found himself studying the lover's face. He looked for signs of the reckless, dissipated life he was supposed te have led--and found them not. Lapelle's eyes' were bright and clear, his skin unblemished, his hand steady, his infrequent, smile distinctly engaging. The slight disdainful twist never left the corner of his mouth, however. It lurked there as a constant reminder to all the world that he, Barry Lapelle, was a devil of a fellow and was proud of It. While he was affable, there was no disguising the fact that he was also condescending. Unquestionably he was arrogant, domineering, even pompous at times, absolutely sure of himself. A lordly fellow, decided Jven.neth, and forthwith took a keen dislike for blra. Nevertheless, it was not difficult W •* xPVt After Every Afyat ITs the longesMasflBO " ^ton yon can boy if® a hefa> to & 1 Garfield Teoi Was Your Grandmother's Remedy } - For every stomaefc. and intestinal 111 This good oW-fasfr j; , ^ X toned herb homj|; -" remedy for constjk* patlon, stomach inland other derange- ; ments of the sy<k • • . tem so prevalent these days Is in eve(£ L. greater favor as a family medicliMt than In yoor grandmother's day. ' •'* '* ASSUBUSMniBHMGSAmnMr wxa^mm r*a MB IhrtATTuttCbldand i MaheYbu PttTbntowtxm The Cat! Mildred--Mae is certainly a cheerftfc^' girl. She has a smile that won't comlf off. De Lorls--Oh, I don't know, a llttlp^ soap and water would take It off. Hallfs Catarrh Medicine rid your system of Catarrh or Deafne<!r caused by Catarrh. « SoU by Jruggbti fir mm 40 ymn ^ P. !• CHENEY & CO., Toledo, Alright Oiaps off 014 Block, M Uttl, M, . On«-thl>d th« W... ) lar dose. Mad» ot • a m a Ingradimtt, than candy, eoatad. t For ebDdrffi and adnlta. ••OLD 1Y YOU* MUC StOr NIGHT COUGHING What. for TO r Sold Kmmrywhmrm Me. HALL A ROOOEL. N. Y„ MFRS. tlnf- "t Am on the Right Road to Lafayette, I Take It." to account for Viola's Interest in him; nor, to a certain extent, the folly which led her to undertake the exploit of the night before. Barry Lapelle would have his way with women. "You come from Kentucky, Mr. Gwynne," Lapelle was saying. "I am from Louisiana. My father came up to St. Louis a few years ago after e» tabllshlng a line of steamboats between Terre Haute and the gulf. Two of our company's boats come as far north as Lafayette, so I spend considerable of my time there at this season of the year. I understand you have spent several years In the East, at college and In pursuit of your study of the law." "A tall woman in blaok appeared In the doorway." (TO II OONTUUWJ Cheaper Johnny--Mamma, do th«x by the pound? Mother--Yes, precious.^ Johnny--I suppose that Is Why peopie buy 'em when they're little. Strange as It may seem, motor talk makes some people yawn. Sure Relief FOR INDIGESTION Bell-ans Hot water Sure Relief ELL-ANS £54 AND 754 PACKAGES EVERYWHERE t With colds and inflatan aj£ • t \ . too common Just now, it pa#' ' - - - 1° take regular prevention. - ^ne,,nrM again«t thco^ ••'^ ilipray your nose and throif *" - tiight and morning wltjjiL J ^onite (directions on thjr ^ . -fcottle). Prevention isalwayf. ' jr<$asier, better and leaf azpea^* •- ' "i lfiye than a cure. - ^ Tonik KILLS GERMS MONKS"01! W. N. U„ CHICAGO, NO. 11-ltjM. J/ 8^"?: * ' i f - ^