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;•*> f'V .j \ '$?:A •> / 7 ^ «-• * •'-**•• * * • < • ... ... • . * * f - .. . r...?1..- * *«• • : \ - . , ; » - ; : * v ; • . i » n . - - ' * • - - v y ^ a f \^f^: *% * S.-,v * * ' - ' * h „ ' b * * . A * , * 4 M « 4 x\*Ufih ? •' V; •>^f« ^• ITlML4fii0N Crawhokd AUTHOR OF 'ImACJNiSeA," "ARETHUyTflgX, Lujmmmjv a.wnu >gcs£ tnrrtuarr nor or r.ttst/uatt ntmrau Ca-/ .vT.v ,ftl' . ii.#' :Mk;> *' \ \ y - & V fcM '•'• "if- *. SYNOPSIS. B«r»kt, a Tartar girl, became enamored of a golden bearded stranger who • was prospecting and studying herbs in the vicinity of her home In central Asia, and revealed to him the location of a mine of rubies hoping that the stranger would love her in return for her disclosure. They were followed to the cave by the girl's relatives, who blocked up the en­ trance, and drew oft the water supply, mutism the couple to die. CHAPTER I.--Continued. < -The traveler fished up the sack and wnded out upon the tiny beach. He looked up rather anxiously, though he could not have seen a head looking down from above if there had been any one there. There was not light S-_'- enough. He understood also that If ^ • the men were going to shoot at him ^ from the height they would wait till it ^'4C was daylight. Barak* stood eUH in the water, which was up to her waist, ' - and he paid no attention-to her, but •at down to think what he should do. The night was warm, and his clothes gjp.Aw would dry on him by degrees. He ' would have taken them off and spread . them out, for he thought no more of , Baraka's presence than if she had y«. f been a harmless young animal stand- •_ •' *•' ing there in the pool, but he could not toll what might happen at any mo- •* I * ment, and so long as he was dressed |v> >,' and had all his few belongings about him. he felt ready to meet fate. Baraka saw that he did not heed • her, and was thinking. She came up H*/ out of the water very slowly, and she %x , modestly loosened her vet garment >. ; from her, so that it hung straight i' when sKe stood at the " end of the '„l- , beach, as far from the traveler as pos- %. ** sible. She, also, sat down to dry her- t: H i £.;' jf*r ^ self; and there was silence for a long time. After half an hour- the traveler rose and began to examine the rock, feel­ ing it with "bis hands wherever there was the least shadow, as high as he couW reach, to find if there was any ,'ff ^*v ' foothold, though he waa already sure wWV that there was not v "There is np wajr wit/' Baraka said ' at last. '1 have been here by day. I have seen." £>> * "They will let themselves down i- from above with ropes, till they are , near enough to shoot," the traveler ' answered. "No," replied Baraka. • 'Tbey know U»t--you- have a* goo5^ Weapon,: aud p'~,y { they will not risk their lives. They if*/ -h will; leave us here to starve. That is w^at they will do. It is our portion, . and we shall die. It will be easy, for there is water, and when we are hun- ^ grr we can drink our fill. Ton will die first You are not as we are, you , cannot live so long without food." ̂ The traveler wondered If she waa ?•-' * right, hut he said nothing. f * "if we had got out with the treas- «re," continued Baraka, "you would -•'» j;;- have loved me for It, because you „ would have been the greatest man in H'Vv the world through me. But now, be & cause we must die, you hate me. I > understand. If you do not kill me i# ^ou first; and when you are dead I shall kiss you many times, till * fr; t< I die also. It will be very easy. I am f.not afraid." The man sat quite still and looked • *t the dark streak by the edge of the |i«.f pool where the water had wet it when tt* falling boulder outside had sent in little waves. He could see it dls- .« tlnctly. Again there was silence for v " ^ * long time. Now and then Baraka loosened her only garment about her ** *®le 8a^ 80 that it might dry more "W'Zf quickly; and she quietly wrung out c ^ her thick black hair and shook it over V her Bhoulders to dry it, / too, and r-'. - iff «tuck her two sliver pins Into the ff c- v taad ufs»ide her. ^ * •} Still the traveler sat with bent head, pC?„• ®s*Ing at the edge of the pool. His j^/s* /*>'"' hands were quite dry now, and he ' slowly rubbed the clinging moisture £V£j , from his revolver. Some men would have been thinking, in such a plight, that if starving were too hard to bear, a bullet would shorten their sufferings In the end; but this man was very full of life, and the love of life, and while he lived he would hope. He still watched the same dark streak where the sand was wet; he had not realized that he had been so ISr from it till then, but by looking at 1t a long time in the starlight his sight had probably grown tired, so that he no longer saw it distinctly. He raised himself a little on his hands and pushed himself down till it was quite clearly visible again, and he looked at the rock opposite and up to the stars again, to rest his eyes. He was not more than a yard from the water now. The place was very quiet. From far above a slight draught of air descended, i warm from the rocks that had been heated all day In the sun. But there was no sound except when Baraka moved a little. Presently she did not' move any " more, and when the traveler looked he saw that she was cuffed up on the sand, as eastern women lie when they sleep, and her head rested on her hand; for her garment was dry now, and she was drowsy after the walk arid the effort she iiad made. Be­ sides, Bince there was no escape from death, and as the man did not love her, she might as weU sleep if she •could. He had bee? certain of the distance between his feet and th<§ water's edge AS he sat; it had been a yard at the most But now it was more; he was sure that it was a yard and a half at the least. He rubbed his eyes and looked hard at the dark belt of wet sand, and it was twice as wide as It had been. The water was still run­ ning out somewhere, but it was no longer running in, and# in an hour or two the pool would be dr.v The trav­ eler was something of \n engineer, and understood sooner than an or­ dinary man could hare done, that l^p •Hemies had intentionally stopped up the narrow entrance through which he had to come, both to make his es­ cape Impossible, and to hasten his end iw depriving him of water. The fallen -m':- |;;3 boulder alone could not have kept out the overflow of phe spring effectually. They must have shoveled down mass­ es of earth, with the plants that grew in it abundantly and filled It with twining threadlike roots, and they must have skillfully forced quantities of the stuff into the openings all round the big stone, making a regular dam against the spring, which would soon run down in the opposite direction. They knew, of course, that Baraka had led him to the place and had gone in with him, for she had left all her outer garments outside, and they ( ? meant that she should die alao, with her secret. In a week, or a fortnight, or a month, they would come and dig away the dam and pry the boulder aside, and would get in and find the white bones of the two on the sand, after the vultures had picked them clean; and they would take the trav­ eler's good revolver, and his money. He thought of all these things as he sat there in the dim light, and watched the slow receding of the water-line, and listened to the girl's soft and reg­ ular breathing. There was no death in her dream, as she slept away the last hours of the night, though there might not be many more nights for her. He heard her breath, but he did not heed her, for the water was sink­ ing before him, sinking away into the sand, now that it was no longer fed from the opening. He sat motionless, and his thoughts ran madly from hops to despair and back again to hope. The water was going down, beyond question; If it was merely draining Itself through the sand to some subterranean channel, be was loBt, but if it was Sowing away through any passage like the one by which he had entered, there was still a chance of escape--a very small chance. When death Is at ths gate the tiniest loophole looks wide enough to crawl through. The surface of the pool subsided, but there was no loophole; and as ths traveler watched, hope sank in his heart, like the water in the hollow of the sand; but Baraka slept on peace­ fully, curled up on her side like a lit­ tle wild animal. When the pool was almost dry the traveler crept down to the. edge and drank his fill, that he might not begin to thirst sooner than nved be; and just thcu day (Sauned suddenly and the warm darkness gave way to a cool light in a few moments. Immediately, because It was day, Baraka stretched herself on the sand and then sat up; and when she saw what the traveler was doing she also went and drank as much as she could swallow, for she had understood why he was drinking as soon as she saw that the pool was nearly dry. When she could drink no more she looked up at the rocks high overhead, and they were already white and red and yellow in the light of the risen sun; for In that country there is no very long time between dark night and broad day. , Baraka sat down again, on the spot where she had slept, but she said nothing. The man was trying to dig a little hole in the wet sand with his hands, beyond the water that was still left, for perhaps he thought that if he could make a pit on one side, some water would stay In It; but the sand ran together as soon as he moved It; and presently, as he bent over, he felt that he was sinking Into It himself, and understood that it was a sort of quicksand that would suck him down. He therefore threw himself fiat on his back, stretching out his arms and legs, and, making move­ ments as if he were swimming, h@ worked his way from the dangerous place till he was safe on the firm white beach again. He sat up then, and bent his head till his forehead pressed on his bands, and he shut his eyes to keep out the light of day. He had not Blept, as Baraka had, but he was not sleepy; perhaps he would-not be able to sleep again before the end come. Baraka watched him quietly, for she understood that he despaired of life, and she wondered what he would do; and, besides, he seemed to her the most beautiful man In the world, and she loved him, and she was igoing to die with him. It comforted her to think that no other woman could get him now. It was almost worth while to die for that alone; for she could not have borne that another woman should have him since he despised her, and if it had come to pass she Would have tried to kill that other. But there was no danger of such a thing now; and hs would die first, and she would kiss him many times when he was dead, and then she would die also. . The pool,was all gone by this time, leaving a funnel-shapped hollow In -the sand where it had been. If any water still leaked through from with­ out it lost itself under the sand, and the man and the girl were at the bot­ tom of a great natural well that was quite dry. Baraka looked up, and she saw a vulture sitting in the sun on a pinnacle, 300 feet above her head. He would sit there till she was dead, for he knew what was coming; then he would spread his wings a little and let himself down awkwardly, half-flying and half-scrambling. When he had finished, he would sit and look at her bones and doze, till he was able to fly . away. , The hours passed, anjl the sun rose higher in the sky and struck deeper into the shady well, till he was almost overhead, and there was scarcely any shadow left It became very hot and stifling, because the passage through which the air had entered witji the water was shut up. Then the traveler took off his loose jacket, and opened his flannel shirt at the neck, and turned up his Sleeves, for coolness, and he crept backwards into the hol­ low where the ruby mMe'was; to shel­ ter himself from the sun. But Baraka edged away to the very foot of the cliff, where there remained a belt of shade, even at MOB; and as she sat % t 7' Leaving a Funnel-Shaped Hollow In the Sand. there she took the hem of her one garment in her hands and slowly fanned her little feet Neither he nor Bhe bad spoken for many hours, and she could see that in the recess .of the rock he was sitting as before, with his forehead against his hands that were clasped on his knees, in the at­ titude and bearing of despair. He began to be athirst now, In the heat If he had not known that there was no water he could easily have done without It through a long day, but knowledge that there was none, and that he was never to drink again, parched his life and his throat and his tongue till it felt like a dried fig in his mouth. He did not feel hunger, and Indeed he had a little food in a wallet he carried; but he could not have eat­ en without water, and it did not occur to him that Baraka might be hungry. Perhaps, even If he had known that Bhe was, he would not have given her of what he had; he would have kept it for himself. What was the life of a wild hill-girl compared with his? But the vulture was watching him. as well as Baraka, and would not move from its pinnacle till the end, though days might pass. Baraka was not thirsty yet, because she had drunk her fill In the morn­ ing, and was not used to drink often; It was enough that she could look at the man she loved, for the end would come soon enough without thinking about It All day long the traveler crouched In the hollow of the ruby cave, and Baraka watched him from her place; when it grew dark the vul­ ture on the pinnacle of rock thrust Its ugly head under its wing. As soon as Baraka could not see any more she curlcd herself up on the white sand like a little wild animal and went to sleep, though she was thirsty, > It was dawn when Ihe awoke, and her linen garment was damp with the dew, so that the touch of It refreshed her. The traveler had come out and was lying prone on the sand, his face buried against his arm, as soldiers sleep in a bivouac. She could not tell whether he was asleep or not but she knew that he could riot see her, and ahe cautiously sucked the dew from her garment, drawing it up to her mouth and squeezing it between her lips. It was little enough refreshment but It was something, afid she was act afraid, which made a difference. Just as she had drawn the edge of her shift down and round her ankles again, the man turned on his side suddenly, and then rose to his feet. For an instant he glared at her, and she saw that his blhe eyes were bloodshot and burning; then he picked up the heavy camel bag, and began to make his way round what had been the beach of the pool, towards the passage through which they had entered, and which was now a dry cave, wide below, nar­ row at the top, and between six or seven feet high. He trod carefully and tried his way, for he feared the quicksand, but he knew that there was none In the passage, since he had walked through the water and had felt the way hard under his feet In a few moments he disappeared under the rock. Baraka knew what he meant to do; he was going to try to dig through the dam at the entrance to let the water in, even if be could not get out; but she did not move, for In that narrow place and In the dark she could not have helped him. She sat and waited. By and by he would come out, drenched with sweat and yet parching with thirst, and he would glare at her hor­ ribly again; perhaps he would bemad when he came out and would kill her because she had brought him there. After some time she heard a very faint sound overhead, and' when she looked up the vulture was gone from his pinnacle. She wondered at this, and her eyes searched every point and crevice of the rock as far as she could see, for she knew that the evil bird could only have been frightened away; and though it fears neither bird nor beast, but only man, she could not believe that any human be* Ing could find a foothold near to where It had perched. For some seconds, perhaps for a whole minute, she saw nothing, though she gazed up steadily, then she saw that a small patch of snowy white was moving slowly on the face of the cliff, at some distance above the place where the vulture had been. She bent her brows in the effort to see more by straining her sight and meanwhile the patch descended faster than It seemed possible that a man could climb down that perilous steep. Yet It was a man, she knew from the first, and soon she saw him plainly, in his loose shirt and white turban, and with a long guu slung across his back. Nearer still, and he was down to the jutting pinnacle where the vulture had sat, and she saw his black beard; still nearer by a few feet and she knew him, and then her glance darted to the mouth of the cave, at the other end of which the man she loved was toiling desperately alone in the dark to pierce the dam of earth and stones. It was only a glance, in a second of time, but when she looked up the black-beared man had already made another step downwards. Baraka measured the distance. If he spoke loud now she could understand him. She knew him well, and she knew why he had come, with his long gun. He was her father's brother's son, to whom she was betrothed; he was Saad, and he was risking his life to come down and kill her and the man whom she had led to the ruby mines for love's sake. He would come down til! f he was within easy range, and then he would wait till he had a fair chance at them, when they were standing still, and she knew that he was a dead shot, The traveler's revolver could never carry as far as the long gun, Baraka was sure, and Saad could come quite near with safety, since he seemed able to climb down the face of a flat rock where there was not foothold for a cat He was still descending, ho was getting very near; if the traveler were not warned he might come out of the cave unsuspiciously and Saad would shoot him. Saad would wish to shoot him first, because of his revolver, and then he- would kill Baraka at his leisure. If he fired at her first the traveler would have a chance at him while he was reloading his old gun. She understood why he had not killed her yet, If indeed he wanted to, for it was barely possible that he loved her enough to take her alive. After hesitating for a few moments, not from fear but in doubt, she gath­ ered herself to spring, and made a dash like an antelope along the sand for the mouth of the cave, for she knew that Saad would not risk wast­ ing his shot on her while she was run­ ning. She stopped just under the shelter of the rock and called inward: "Saad Is coming down the rock with his gun!" she cried. '"Load yc weapon!" When she had given this warning she went out again and stood before the mouth of the cave with her back to it Saad was on the rock, not 50 feet above the ground, at the other side of the natural wall, but looked as If even he could get no farther down. He was standing with both bis heels on a ledge so narrow that more than half the length of his brown feet stood over it; he was leaning back, fiat against the sloping cliff, and he had his gun before him, for he was just able to use both his hands with* out falling. He pointed the gun at her and spoke: "Where Is the manf* "He Is dead," Baraka answered without hesitation. "Dead? Already?" "I killed him In his sleep," she said, "and I dragged his body into the cave for fear of the vulture, and buried it In the sand. Be not angry, Saad, though he waa, my father's guest Come down hither and I will tell alL Then you shall shoot me or take me home to be your wife, as you will, for I am quite innocent." She meant to entice him within range of the stranger's weapon. "There Is no foothold whereby to get lower," he answered, hut he rested the stock of his gun on the nar­ row ledge behind him. "Drag out the man's body, that 1 may see It." "I tell you I burled It I killed him the night before last; I cannot dig him up now." "Why did you run to the mouth, of the cave when you saw me, if the man Is dead?" "Because at first I was afraid you would shoot me from above, therefore I took shelter." . "Why did you come out again. If you were in fear?" "After I had run in I was ashamed, for I felt sure that you would not kill me without hearing the truth. So I came out to speak with you. Get down, and I will show you the man's grave." "Have I wings? I cannot eome down. It is impossible." , Baraka felt a puff of hot air pass her, just above her right ankle, and at the same instant she heard a sharp report, not very loud, and more like the snapping of a strong but very dry stick than the explosion of firearms. She instinctively sprang to the left keeping her eyes on Saad. LIFE TO For a nioment he did not move. But he was already dead as he slowly bent forward from the rock, making a deep obeisance with both arms hang­ ing down before him, so that his body shot down perpendicularly to the sand, where it struck head first, rolled over and lay motionless in a heap. The traveler's was a Mauser pistol that would have killed as surely at 500 yards as 50; and the bullet had gone through the Tartar's brain. Baraka sprang up the sandy slope and ran along the narrow beach to the body. In an Instant ahe had detached the large brown water-gourd from the thong by which he It had hung over Sand's shoulder, and she felt that it was full. Without a thought for her­ self she hastened back to the mouth of the cave where the traveler was now standing. His face was dripping with perspiration that ran down into his matted golden beard, his eyes were wild, his hands were bleeding. "Drink!" cried Baraka Joyfully, and Bhe gave him the gourd. He gripped it as a greedy dog snaps at a bit of meat and pulling out the wooden plug he set the gourd to his lipa, with an expression of beatitude. But he was an old traveler arid only drank a little, knowing that his life might depend on making the small supply last' A gourd of water waa worth more than many rubies just then. "Are you very thirsty yet?" h® asked In a harsh voice. "No," answered Barate bravely i "keep it for yourself." His hand closed round the heck ot the gourd and he looked up towards® j the rocks above. The vulture had I come back and was circling slowly j down. "You had better bury ths body, while I go on working," said the trav­ eler, turning back into the save and taking the gourd with him. , Baraka had marked the place wher« he had tried to dig for water and had almost disappeared in the quicksand. She took from the body the wallet, in which were dates and some half-dry bread, and then dragged and pushed and rolled the dead man from the place where he had fallen. The vul­ ture sat on the lowest ledge where his claws could find a hold, and though he watched her with horribla red eyes while she robbed him ot his prey, he did not dare go nearer. The body sank into the moving sand, and Baraka had to roll hersell back to firmer ground In haste to es­ cape being swallowed up with tha dead man. The last she saw of him was one brown foot sticking up. It Bank slowly out of sight, and then sh« went to the hollow where the ruby mine was and took up a piece of tha broken crust, full of precious stones and threw it at the vulture as hard as she could. It did not hit him, but he at once tumbled off the ledge into th« air, opened his queer, bedraggled wings and struck upwards. Then Baraka sat down !$ the ahade and slowly brushed away the dry aand that had got Into the folds of her Iter en garment and looked steadily at th« mouth of the cave and tried not t«i realize that her throat was parched and her Hps almost cracking witl thirst, and that the traveler had a gourd almost full of water with him. for she loved him, and was willing t« die that he might live a little longer; besides. If he succeeded in digging his way out, there would be plenty to drink, and when he was free she waa sure that he would love her 'because •he had made him so rich. The sun rose higher and at last shone down to the bottom of ths .chasm, and she sat in the narrow strip of shade, where she bad passed most of the previous day. She was very thirsty and feverish, and felt tired, and wished she could sleep, but could not. Still the traveler tolled in the darkness, and from time to time she heard sounds from far away as ot stones and loose earth falling. He jms still working hard, for he was very strong and he was desperate. Baraka thought that if he was able to dig through the dam the watar would run in agate; and she wat«b«« the aand for hours, but It was drier than ever. The shadow broadened again, and crept up the reek quickly as the afternoon passed. (TO BE CONTINUBtt.) E. Pitikham's : Vegetable Compound Vienna, W. Va. -- "1 feel that I owe the last ten years of my life to Lydia E- Pinkham's Vega- Compound. table Eleven years ago X was a walking shadow. I had been under the cart hu t gotnorei My husband per­ suaded me to try Lydia E. Pinkham's Vegetable Com- i pound and it worked I like a charm- It r«- I lieved all my and misery. I advise all si ~ women to take Lydia E. Pinkham*i Vege table Compound." -- MRS. EAOCA WHEATOX, Vienna, W. Va. Lydia E. Pinkham's Vegetable Coat- pound, made from native roots assd herbs, contains no narcotics or harm­ ful drugs, and to-day holds the record for the largest number of actual cured of female diseases of any similar medi- MS nkham*s ny! cine in the country, and thousands of voluntary testimonials are on file in the Pinkham laboratory at Lynn, Mass., from women who have been cured from almost every form of female complaints, inflammation, ul­ ceration,displacements,fibroid tumors, irregularities, periodic pains, backache, indigestion and nervous prostration. Every such suffering woman owes it to herself to give Lydia E. Pinkham's Vegetable Compound a trial. Ir you would like special advice about your ease write a confiden­ tial letter to Mrs. Pinkham, mt Lynn, Mass. Her advice is fretfc and always helpful. SICK HEADACHE Positively cited by theee Little Fills. They also relieve Di»» tress from Dyspepsia, Io» digestion, and Too Hearty Eating. A perf«e« rear *dj for Diulnem, s«a, DromlMM, Bat Ta«t« In the Mo«tk. Co>» ed Tongue. Paisi 1 Bide, TORPID They MgviaM tb« Bowels. Purely V* SHALL PILL. SHALL DOSE. SHALL PUCE. CARTER'S Kb ULwa Genuine Mutt Fac-SimitoSigMtm iimi sutsTmrrct, WESTEIICJUUM What Qowemer BUMS, « Says About Its , jU Lmmm iSt Vlw laHinm mt HAosxSisSl 121 mn Mtofcef WM li Ml it WftTukMitaM *»•"*> \#ll • ;; ' fiat'Wt Did you bear ItT* Ifow '-v^l rassing. These stomach noisesmake 2.';. you wish you could sink through ^ ^ the floor. You imagine everyone ~^ hears than. Keep a box of CAS- ^ CARETS in your purse or pocket and take a part of one after eating. It will relieve the stomach of gas. n$ CASCARBTS 10c * box (or a waek'e treatment. Alldrnsariats. Biggest setter in the world--million boxes a month. H E L P W A N T E D CATHOLIC vuuiij! men and women to rep­ resent MEN AND WOMEN liAGAZWE in every locality IJBKRAX. COMMISSION, BOLE AGENCY. Must submit pastor's wfereru'e with application. An exceUwst opportunity. Write at once. Hen & Women Matfaxlae, Cincinnati Paper-Hu£ars& Paiatm TOV MB tea iDTeatmeatJbr Mlling Alfred F*a*s* JP> Wallpaper, We want on» cood worker 1m < vicinity, and to the III* worth* applkaa* TONGUE EVIDENCE. A most'forgetful man was be* Although, contrite and . . , . If letters he was told te pdW,* He'd hold 'etn for a ir--)£ '* \ •- ^ JMff * One day he was off to town 'r His wife this warning flung: . , , "Now. If you love me, don't forget ! "*- To bring me home a tongue!" •*- *>4 When he returned without the There was a pretty row; "- j His wife exclaimed: "Th*t only You do not love 4ne now!" "Fte. fle. dear wife; dry up you* tears. They ne'er become you well; Tou ought to know I love you now •i Far more than tongue could telli**. * --Tonkera A*4 Other Things. "He gave her ererythin* thai «*• ey could buy." "What did she do with her monkeys and boa-constrictors when she left him?" "Why, who erer toid you that she ever had any suck absurd things as those?" • You told me that he gare her everything money could boy money could easily M boa-eautrtctoVB." • THE ENVIABLE. Hew poor is he wht> urges men • Ta splendid deeds on land or sea. ^ r If she be cold and silent when ' ./ ( He seeks her, flushed with victo^i ' . - How poor Is he, who, after all 4m**-' The perils tha successful share. ,• Turns with his riches, but to faU Beside a little mound somewhere^, •w"," How rich Is he who turns at nlghij' I With empty pockets and unknown * Still simply happy in the right * ' To claim her love who keeps his own. -a. E. Kiesr. ' The Practical Life MM. fcmtth--What's the matter? Here are the elder children fighting In the streets, the younger ones cry­ ing in the nursery, no sign of dinner, and I'm as hungry aa a bear. Where's my wife? Maid--She gave orders not to dis­ turb her, sir. She's upstairs in the library writing an article for her club on bow to make the heme folks con­ tented. • •* i In DouM. I think that lady winked at «*>' Bet. O, doggone it! ,t Her eyes I couldn't plainly ss% ; x... ' Beneath her bonnet, .J •• ;,5Vf •' V u**3r> . (, i v li%Li '• THE PITCHER. Oh, say, the pitcher Is the cheese, and hs Is fine to hang your lamps on when he stands . Out there and. twirl*' tfy* leather In his hands Before he squirfris and putB it up to-bo A strike or ball or any other thing, by » gee! His umps. the lobster, thinks he under- ' stands Ain't like It looks to all the bunch of fens: „ But gaff him. Birdie, what's the mutt to you and me? And. say. there's nothing punk about the pitch: . It's him for what's tho hot: he's got the nerve To bang 'em at the batter, straight, or curve. Or rush 'em out to where the baggers stand. And they won't fled htm sleeping at the switch. . Oh, Birdie, keep yeur eyes eft; -ain't he grand? Her Mistake. "Maggie, run tor the Ike doctor!" "Tessum; what for?" "My husband looks awful!" •Ol know It, mum; but they don't te ---""'••I"' •Hmo Im they?" The Mefodrsma. Willie Wink--It's the m6st T>«Wotts play in town. In the third act the heroine goes around on the fly wheel JO times. Billy Bink--But where does the ,»» triotlsm come In? Willie Wink--Oh. when she gets sround the last time she waves a Sag and announces that she il a ^Xk^uisb- ter of the Revolution." *' | ̂ The Melodrama. The villain sttll pursued her ?#'• They were a puffing p»ir. The villain puffed a clgaretta. The heroine puffed her hair. I rfuh?. by pit-paid nn««. 'tin tail* _ j book* ahowuia a rJ50.{HKM>0 HjOlBaper 1 for customer~ t - from. We offer liberal . prepaid ex Drew. I b ikotisi u *'i50.00ft.00 ct from. We --„ to our reprrtaenwiivee. Atiswer quicki» takt yoa atMjf set th* Htfencjr in jour vieioit* foe MO. XlfrMl i o., mat* Wshssb Ave., Chteagfc OLD SQRES CURED / Just Possible. Were men as smart as they think. And women as sweet 4s they i Our sojourn on this dull Ml earth Would be like a midsummer ftrsaa Allen s UlcerineBalTeceieevnroniewi Ulv««r8,Scmfult»u*riv<iry,YARU*OSEJLTLFSGFC*G» doleut t"lo*?r»,Merturls»l I Iwrs.WWwtWft I n s . M i l k l . t - u . t ' e v e r ! v » r ® » , « i l h a M M bUtre, Ujnuilt&df. j.P.ALLBN,iX?pt.A rlR 8At.l£-JE55.0(MTt Pr*»fem»d an «3«al • mount of Comuwu Stook will b« ttinfn as bonus, Wllldmdr to suit purchaser. CuniBwa Stock wilt Eijr larac dividends. lnv«»sti|fat«». Write for Ut*ra-re i <ti«ui --i.'!! .•< agrnts. American innnrtM Wat--a K. Cele--aa,Wfcsh> issstoti. B.C. Mkdft» Bust nwn PATENTS __ For Asthma, Bronchitia and all Throat Trouble# Taka i *• li: Mt "Si '•kyi* r'i >,t 'j. * *{ s--.4r •£-**' After the Etopemenl For wedded haste, with one At leisure now they would repent; But still tor toed they bar* a tad So they haven't any time to weMfh -The Garden Zee. "Let'i get up a circus," cried Willi*, "Of tha flowers we see growing her*, There're the dandelions, striped t| ' lines. And the r CURS . tit rotatt The relief is as. quick ccitsifc