JE* "Trjccrjrjwe' t " ' 1 ' " " -------- -- - --• " ' ' ' ' . ' ~~------- -- ~ . ** Ihfc- Si ------i* COAST RAlLHUAu mn HAVE HEART ////.̂ , ."«r* * * 'f //*#- earmHMnrjp*® 4K mpMfir- ĵ gjrjcill CO- SYNOPSI8. At a private view of the Ohatworth personal estate, to be sold at auction, the Crew Idol mysteriously disappears. Harry Cressy, who waa present, describes the ring 10 hi» Bantee, Klora Gilsey, and her ehaperon, Mrs Clara Britton, as being vlke a god, with a beautiful sap phire eei >n i he r.ead. Flora meets Mr. •Kerr, an i.irishman. In discussing the disappearance of the ring:, the exploits of an Kn&iish thief, Farrell Wanr). are re- raiied. Kerr tells Flora that he has met | Harry somewhere, hut cannot place him. I2(t,0fi0 reward is offered for the return of the tins. Harry takes Irlora to a Chinese ' poldsmth's to huv an engagement ring, j Ar. exquisite sapphire set in a hoop of brass is self-ted. Harry urges her not to •rear It until i t is reset. The possession of the rins seems to fast a spell over Flora She becomes ur;c:isy and appre hensive. Flora is startled by the effect . on Kprr when lie gets a glimpse of lh« j sapphire. The possibility that th« KfOTis Is part (»f the Crew Idol causes Flora much anxiety. Unse-en, Flora discovers Cl»ra rotisavkliiK her dressing room. Flora refuses to give or sell the stone to I tCerr. and suspects him of being th* I thief Plie decides to return the rint; to Harry, but he tells her to Keep it for a day or two. Ella Iluiler tells Flora that flav-a '>5 ^. . t t inp her cap for her father. Judge jRuller Klora believes Harry sus pects Kerr and Is waiting to make sure ol ti.e before unmasking the thief. Kerr and Clara confess their love for each other. Clara is followed by a China man. Harry admits to Flora that he knew the ring was stolen. He attempts to take it from her. Flora goes to the San Matf-o place with Mrs. Herrick and writes Ktrr and Clara to come. Ella Bul- ler britv* Clara to leave the judge alone, by giving her a picture of Farrell Wand. Kerr and Harry unexpectedly arrive at Sti. Halcu. CHAPTER XXII.--Continued. "Good morning," she said, and, pushing up her little misty veil, sat down with her back to the deserted breakfast table, and waited meekly like one who has been summoned. "I am very glad you've come," Flora said. Her wits were still all a-flutter from the appearance of that little heap of gold. She came forward and stood in Harry's place. She was face to face with the person and the ques tion, but before the great import of it, and before the marble front of Clara's P»wv5Cv oilC KojpjAoa TJjgi»A mag silence in the room, perfect silence in the garden; but moving along the hedged walk all at once she saw the flutter of Mrs, Herrick's gown, and then in profile Kerr beside her. The sight of him gave her her proper in spiration. She turned upon Clara. "WbaC-are you going to do with the picture of Farrell Wand?" For tHe fifst time she saw Clara startled. Hfr lips patted, and the breath that came and went between them was audible. But she was ber- •fclf again before she spoke. "Do with it? Why,. I don't know." Her fingers drummed the table, "Whatever yon do," Flora began, "please, oh. please don't do anything Immediately." Clara's eyebrows rose like graceful iwallows. "You seem to anticipate pret ty clearly what I am going to do." "1 suppose you're going to do what •By one would who had a clew and ebuld bring a person to justice," Flora candidly responded. "But if ever t Have made anything easy for you, (para, won't you this time make it easy for me' I'm not asking you to ||?e up the picture, I'm only asking Hpu to wait." - Clara nodded toward the window, through which Kerr could still be Ipsa with Mrs. Herrick. "On account of him?" "On account of him." ; For the first time Clara smiled. It (^ept out upon her face, as it were involuntarily, but she sat there smil ing in contemplation for quite ten seconds. At last, "You want me to Suppress my information? My dear Flora, don't you think you want me to do more than is honest?" "Honest!" Flora cried. The words sounded hideous to her on Clara's tongue; and yet what right had she. • she thought with shame, to judge of Clara's honesty when she herself was leagued with a thief? "Clara," she said humbly, before this upholder of the right, "I can't pretend I'm not suppressing things. I've only asked you to see me before you do anything more. Now, you've come. Will you tell me one thing--did you bring the picture with you?" Clara weighed it. "Well, if I did--" This was the considering Clara, and Flora realized whatever she could ex pect from her she couldn't expect mercy. It was another thing she must appeal to. "Clara." she urged, "wait three days, and you shall have the whole of it. You have only the picture now. You shall have the jewel, too. Then you can get the reward and still be-- honest." She let the word fall into the si lence fearfully, as if she were afraid Clara might detect its sneer. But this time Clara neither smiled nor frowned. "It isn't the reward I'm thinking about. That'tj really very little, con sidering." "Twenty thousand dollars!" "Would that be much to you?" "No," Flora admitted; "at least I mean 1 could pay it." shall have the picture here. I prom ise you-" Flora wondered. Depth below depth I She could never seem to get to the bottom of this business. There was only one thing she could count on, and that was Clara's impeccable hon or in living up to a bargain. Flora sealed that bargain now. She held out her fluttering slip of paper, still wet with ink. "Very well, in two hours--but take this now. I would rather you did." Clara reached the tips of her fin gers, touched the paper--and then it wag no longer in Flora's hand, and Clara was walking from her across the room. CHAPTER XXIII. Touche. Left alone, Flora glanced rapidly around her. Mow for a sally, now for a dash straight for Kerr. The short est way was what she wanted. Open ing doors lately had led to too many surprises. She pushed aside the long curtains and stepped out through the j French window upon the veranda. Rapidly her eyes swept the garden. Far down between the gray, slim branches of willows at last she made | out the flutter of a skirt. She sighed "Well, then," Clara triumphed, "why, j relief to think Mrs. Herrick still at the picture alone, if it 's worth any " thing, is worth more than that." With a bird-like lifting of the head she gave a sidelong interrogative glance. Flora, for a moment, steadily re turned the look. It was coming over her what Clara meant; a meaniop so simple it was absurd she h&d not tboufrbt of it before so hateful that it was all she could do to face it. She felt a tightness in her throat that was not tears. Shame and anger contended in her. Oh. for the power to have re fused that shameful bargain--to have scorned it! She turned away. She closed her eyes. In her mind she saw the figure of Kerr moving quietly about the winding walks with Mrs. Herrick. She faced sharply about. "What is it worth to you?" Clara put her off with the last sweet meekness of her cleverness "Whatever it's worth to you-- and him." Flora was in command of herself now. "There are some things I can not set a price on. If this is what you have come down for, we are sim ply waiting for you to name it." She looked over Clara s head. She had stood abashed when Clara had put ou the majesty of right, but now it was Clara herself who was abashed, not at the thing itself, but at the fact of having to utter it. She sat grasp ing one of her gloves in her doubled fist; and, leaning forward, with her eyes like jewels in her little j>ale face and the white aura of her veil, waited as if she thought that by some si lent agency of understanding Flora would presently take up a pen and write the desired figure in her check book. But Flora stood inexorable, straight and black, crowned with her helmet of gleaming hair ; and. with her hands behind bar, looked over Clara's head thrown the window into the garden. She would not help Clara gloss over this ugly fact. A curious grimace distorted Clara's features, as if with an effort she gulped something bitter, and then into the silence her voice fell--a gasp, a breath--"Fifty thousand." All sums had become the same to Flora, even her year's income. As if she were verily afraid Clara might take it back, she turned precipitately to a writing-table. But Clara had risen, and though still pale, in a meas ure she seemed to have recovered her self. "Wait. I can't give it to you now. I will meet you here in two hours and bring the picture. You can let me have it then." "Oh, two hours!" Flora objected. But Clara was firm. "No, I can't bring it sooner. It will make no differ ence in your affair." She was panting in her excitement. "In two hours you !fc=5>5f I f i "what Is It Worth Youf her post, and began to hurry down the broad unshaded drive. Her steps sounded loud on the gravel, and pres ently to her excited ears they sound ed double. Then she realized the truth. Some one else was walking behind her. She thought by not look ing over her shoulder she could avoid •stopping: hut in a moment Harry's voice hailed her. It was still far enough behind for her to hope she could ignore it. She swept on as if she had not heard. Once around the turn of the drive, she would be in sight of succor. She could trust to Mrs. Herrick to manage Harry. She made a little rush around the loop and looked down the long vista of the willows. I A hundred yards distant she saw the two standing. Kerr presented his back, and with his head a little canted forward seemed to listen, absorbed in his companion. But that companion was a smaller figure than Mrs. Her rick's, snd her vH! made an aura of filmy white around her face. The sight of her was enough to stop Flora short, and in that instant Harry, mak ing a cut across the flower-beds, caught up with her. He stopped as abruptly as she, and gazed with a dismay that surpassed her own. For an instant she thought he was about to make a dash down the walk for them. Then he caught Flora's hand and pulled her back. There was no help for it, she thought. Her other hand crept downward stealthily and gathered up her swinging pouch of gold. Trembling, she let him drag her back, but when they faced each other behind the plumes and swords of a great pampas clump she was shocked at the emotion in his face; and as if what he had just seen had given the last touchv his voice had risen a key, and between every half-dozen words it broke f<§r breath. "Look here, Flora," he began; "I know you've been trying to give me the slip ever since night before last. I frightened you then. I didn't mean to, but you had no business to keep the ring after what I told you. No, I'm not going to touch you," as she shrank back against the pampas swords, "but I want you to give it to me, yourself, right here and now." She looked up into his face, burning fiery in the sun beating down on his bare head. "No, no, Harry; I shan't give it to you. Last time I said I would give it to you for a good rea son, but now I wouldn't give it to you for anything." "You don't know what you're do ing." he cried. ' I do; I know as well as you that this is a part of the Crew Idol. I've known it all along, and when the time comes I'm going to give it myself to Mr. Purdie, but not until that time." Harry passed his hand over his face with an inarticulate sound. Then, "You will ruin us!" he choked. "I shall tell the truth, whatever comes." she exulted. To tell the truth and keep on telling it--that, in her passion of relief at speaking out at last, was all she wanted! But Harry fell back. He changed countenance. He recovered himself. "Look here, Flora; if you do I'm go ing to leave you. I'm going to leave you to what you've chosen." She met it steadily. "I'm glad you say so I've been thinking for days that It would be better so." "Have you?" he said in a low voice, looking at her earnestly. "Of course, I know the reason of that. . I meant it to be different, but now there's no help. I--" With a motion too quick for her to escape be stooped and kissed her lightly. To that moment she had pitied him, but his touch she loathed. She thrust him away with both hands. He turned. Without speaking, with out looking at her again, he walked away. She watched him iyUh a des perate feeling of being abandoned, of losing something powerful and valu able. The faint, thin screech of a lo comotive from a station far down the line made him pfmse, and turn, and gaze under his hand in the strong sun. So for a moment she saw him, a lowering, peering figure moving away from her over the lawn between broad flower-beds. Then he disap peared among the Shrubbery. This en« ounter, that had stopped l»er in full open field, bad not been the fatal thing she had feared. It had been a p^ril met that nerved her to a higher courage. Now she could walk gallantly to the most uncertain moment of her life. Between the glim mering willows down the long avenue she passed, her flowing draperies borne backwards as by triumphant airs. The wind of her approach seemed to reach the two still fiwr In front of her. They turned and watched her draw ing nearer, and before she had quite reached them Kerr stretched out his hand as if tx} help her over a last rough place, and drew her toward him and held her beside htm with his fin gers lightly clasped around her wrist She saw that he looked pale, worn, as he had not been last night, and, what struck her most strangely, angry. The hand that held hers shook with the violent pulse that was beating in It. He turned to Clara. "Will you pardon us, Mrs. Britton?" Then after another patient nioment, "Miss Gilsey has something to say to me." Still he made no motion to move away, and at last Clara seemed to understand what was expected of her. She flushed, and in the middle of that color her eyes flashed double steel. For the first time in Flora's memory she was at a loss. She passed them without a word. Kerr looked after the little brilliant figure, moving daintily away through sun and shadow, with deep disgust in his face. But when he turned to Flora disgust lifted to high severity. "Why didn't you come, last night?" "I couldn't. He was there, Harry, outside my door." "In God's name! What did you tell him?" "Nothing. We did not speak--but I couldn't get past him!" The suspic ion in his face was more than she could bear. "You must believe me-- for, if you don't, we're both lost!" He had her by both wrists, now, and gently made her face him. "I have believed in you to the extent of com ing alone to a place I know nothing of, because you wanted me. Now that I am here, what is it you have to say to me?" "Oh, nothing more than I have said before," she pleaded; "only that, ten times more earnestly." "You extraordinary child!" At first, he was pure amazement. "You've brought me so far, you've come so far yourself--you've got us both here in such danger, to tell me only this? How could you be so mad--so cruel?" She had locked her hands in front of her until the nails showed white with the pressure. "It was more dan gerous there than here. You don't know what has happened since I saw you. And I thought if you and I could only be alone together, without the fear of them always between us, I could show you, I could persuade you--" Before his look she broke down. "Well--you see, they followed us--they are here." "Grant it, they are." He seemed to laugh at them. "You have still your chance. Give everything to me and 1 can save you still." " 'Save me?' Oh, nothing could hap pen to me so terrible as having you break my heart like this! If I should give the sapphire to you I should lose you--even the thought of you-- for ever. Nothing could ever be right with us again! Won't you--" she pleaded, "won't you go?" and lifting her hands, taking his face between them. "Won't you, because I love you?" He stood steady to this assault, and smiled down upon her. "Without you and without it I will not budge. Come now, this is the end. I never meant to do another thing." She covered her face with her hands. "Come, come." his voice was urg ing her, now very gentle. "It's more for your sake than for the Jewel now." And his arm around her shoulder was gently forcing her to walk beside him not toward the drive, but away into the tree-grown sheltered wing of the garden. By interlacing paths, from the tremulous gray willows under the somber, clashing eucalyptus spears, under dark wings of cypress they were moving. She was bracing in every nerve against the unnerving of his presence. It had been always so. Even across the distance of a room the mere sight of him had had for her the power to summon those wild spirits of the soul and body that turn reason to a va por. And now tfo close, with his arm around her, that same power she had felt when she saw him first, the power that had made her come out and be herself then, the power that had over whelmed her in the little restaurant, was leagued against her again to make her do this one more thing, which she wouldn't do. Never, never! Despair ing, she wondered that such an evil motive could have such strength. "Where have you got it now?" she heard him asking, and she pointed downward toward where the pouch at her knee was swinging to and fro. "Take It up, then," and like a hipno- tized creature she gathered it into her hand. But, once she had it, she held it clenched against him. "You're going to give it to me," he prompted, "aren't you?--aren't you?" and looking steadily in her face his hand shut softly on her wrist, and held out her clenched band In front of her. And still they walked, slowly. Like a pendulum the long gold chain swung from her clenched fingers. To the tree-top birds they seemed as quiet as two lovers speaking of their wedding-day. She felt her tension give way in this quiet--her hand re- lax. "Dearest." The word brought up her eyes to his with a start of tender ness. "Open it," he said, and her hand, Involuntarily, sprung the pouch wide. They stared together into it The little hollow golden shell was empty. For a moment it held her incred ulous. Then, faint and sick, all the foundations of her faith reeling, she slowly raised her eyes to him in ac cusation. She was not ready for the terrible sternness in his. "Have you lied to me?" he asked in a low voice. "Have you given It to Cressy?" "No, no, no," she cried in horror. "It was there! I put it there myself this morning!" They looked at each other now equally sincere and aghast. "But you have seen him; you've been near him?" he demanded. She gasped out tb« whole truth. "This mornlny! Ho left me. He kissed me." "Then, ray God, where is he?" He gave a wide glance around him. Then raising his voice, "Stay where you are!" he commanded, and began to run from her through the trees. > She stood with her hand to her breast, with the engyty pouch spin ning in front of her."hearing him I crashing in the shrubbery. Then, in sudden panic at finding herself alone, she fled back down the willow avenue, and burst out on the broad drive in full view of the house. Kerr was not in sight, but there was a tremor of disturbance where all had been still. Clara's face ap peared at one of the upper windows j and looked down in to The garden. Then Mrs. Herrick came down the stairs, and, showing an anxious pro file as she passed the door, hurried away along the, lower hall. There was a flutter in the servants' quarter, and from a side door the coachman ap peared battels. in his shirt sleeves, and ran toward the stable. Aii the people of the house seemed to be run ning to and fro, but she didn't see Harry. This struck her with unrea soning terror. She fled up the drive, and Clara's small face at the window watched her. As she camo into the hall she heard Kerr s voice. He was at the tele phone speaking name3 she had never heard in sentences whose meaning was too much for her stunned senses to take in; but none the less while she listened the feeling crept over her that there was some strange revo lution taking place in him. It might, be transformation; it might be only a swift increase of his original power. Whatever it was, he seemed to her superhuman. The house was full of him--full of his rapid movement, his ringing orders. If he knew that the sapphire was gone, what was the meaning of this bold command? Was he. knowing all lost, plunging gallant ly into the clutches of his enemies? Or was this only a uliuti, a splendid piece of effrontery to cover his too long de layed retreat? She sat like a joint- less thing on the fauteuil in the large hall* and all at once she saw him in front of her. She looked at his hat, his overcoat, his slim, glittering stick--all symbols of departure. "Wait here," he said, end turned away. She watched his shadow dance across the flagging, and as it slipped over the threshold she thought dully that now the sapphire was gone every one was going from her. CHAPTER XXIV. The Comic Mask. She listened to the sound of wheels, first rattling loud on the gravel, slowly growing fainter. Then stillness was with her again, and inanition. She looked around and up, and had no start at seeing Clara's small face watching her over the gallery of the rotunda. It seemed to her that ap pearance was natural to her existence now, like her shadow. She looked away. When she raised her eyes again Clara was coming down the stairs, and even at that distance Flora saw she carried something in her hand--something flat and small and wrapped in a filmy bit of paper. Out of the chaos of her feeling rose the solitary thought--the picture which she had bought that morning, the picture of Farrell Wand, She watched it drawing near her with wonder. She sat up trembling. She had a great longing and a horror to tear away the filmy paper and see Kerr at las't brutally revealed. She could not have told afterward whether Clara spoke to her. She was con scious of her pausing; conscious of the faint rustle of her skirt passing; conscious, finally, that the small^ swathed square was in her hand. She tore the tissue paper through. She held a photograph, a mounted ko dak print. She made out the back ground to be rky and water and the rail of a ship ?"ith silhouettes of heads and shoulders, a jungle oI black; and in the middle distance caught in full motion the single figure of a man, back turned and head in profile. He was moving from her out T)f the picture, and with the first look she knew it. was not Kerr. Her first thought was that there had been a trick played on her! But no--across the bottom of the picture, in Judge Buller's full round hand, was written, "Farrell Wand boarding the Loch Ettive." She held it high to the light. Clara had been faithful to her bargain. It was the picture that had deceived her. She studied it with passionate earnestness. She did not know the bearded profile; but in the burly shoulders, in the set and swing of the body in motion, more than all in the lowering, peering aspect of the whole figure, she began to see a fa miliar something. She held It away from her by both thin edges, and that aspect swelled and swelled In her startled eyes, until suddenly the fig ure in the picture seemed to be mov ing from her, not up a gang-plank, but through a glare of sun over grass be tween broad beds of flowers. She was faint. She was going to fall. She caught at the chair to save herself, and still she was dropping down, down, into a gulf of spinning darkness. "Oh, Harry!" she whisper ed, and let her head roll back against the arm of the fauteuil. With a dim sense of rising through immeasurable distances back to light she opened her eyes. j3he saw Mrs. Herrick's face, and as this was con nected in her mind with protection she smiled. (TO BE CONTINUED.) v\m.> A i mix; 8hs Caught at the Chair to Save Herself. Poor Little Gordon. Gordon's parents have worked hard to teach him pure English, but he hears the hired girl's talk as much as his mother's. The other day he de clared, "Mamma, I seen a dogfight to day." "You saw a dogfight, dear,'v his ihother corrected him. "Never say I seen' again." In the kitchen, a little later, Gor don said carefully to the girl, "I saw a dogfight to-day. Mary." "Shame on you," cried Mary. "There you go again, sayingi '1 saw,' when your mother's just been telling you how wrong it Is. Say I seen a dog fight,' you naughty boy." Ironical. "8ince I have lived In New York," said the Philadelphia woman. "I have done nothing but eat. In Philadelphia they don't seem to pay half as much attention to eating as they do in New York. They have but one restaurant where you can go and dine and sit about talking. Here in New York you seem to have such a restaurant, Ital ian table d'hoteg, Greek restaurants. French restaurants. Dutch restaurants restaurants and cafes at every corner*. 1 never saw anything like it. You dc nothing but eat in New York." "les, we do one other thing," said the man who sat near her. "We drink a little " "A little!" cried ths woman who was with him. New Indian Woman. Glare-in-the-Sun, a member of ths Spokane tribe, whose forebears hunted and fished and smoked, as they were inclined, while their faithful squawa did menial tasks without a word of complaint, created a sensation among old timers in Spokane when she ap peared iff Riverside avenue carrying a f..»poose with an ea?e arid indifference fefetningly born of practice. Hts squaw, gowned in a bright dress nud shawl, walked by his side, appar ently unconscious of any irregularity Glare-ln-the-Sun is a wealthy India*, und own* several tracts of land on tht. Columbia river.--Spokane correspond t'uee Minneapolis journal At Cost of Extra Coal and They Place Little "the Flyer. rnm • She was lust a plain little girl of seven, yet for her two great limited trains were sidetracked on the prai ries, their schedules thrown out 30 minutes, and '9100 went up to loco motive smoke. Homer Bull, of Bull Brothers, print ers, of Seattle, Wash., told the story. When he was coming from Wenat- chee, on the Great Northern, the oth er day. a tiny little all hv her self, took the seat In front of hi(m. "You're on the wrong train, my lit tle girl," said the conductor, as ho looked at her ticket. "Is anybody with you?" "No," she said. *1 Just got on with the rest of the people," "But your ticket Is for Spokane and this train Is going to Seattle. The bridge Is burned behind us and there is trouble In the mountains. There won't be another train for 24 hours." "Well, I'm going to Spokane," she said with childish faith. "All right, little girl; we'll see what we can do." Then trainmen and dispatchers got busy. The west-bound train was to wait on a siding for the flying Spo kane express to pass It. The Seattle train rushed to the siding. Miles flashed under the wheels. Then a flagman wag sent out to stop the Spokane flyer. The west-bound train skidded past the standing train Then the conduc tor picked up the little girl and hand ed her to a brakeman on the Spokane train, with a word of explanation. It made two trains late and cost something in extra coal. "Railroad men have hearts," the conductor explained. "I've got a little gal at home myself just about the size of that youugsier." FOR SAFETY ON RAILROADS Commerce Commission Orders Uni form Equipment at Enormous Cost to the Lines. Uniform standards for the equip ment of railroad cars and locomotives with safety appliances were pre scribed by an order issued by the Interstate commerce commission. The order is the result of a long continued agitation for uniformity. All the ap pliances covered by the commission's order are now used, except that two additional ladders are required on certain classes of cars and two addi tional sill steps are required on all. Although the railroads contended that the changes would immediately cost approximately $50,000,000, the commission is of opinion that /'com pliance with the order will not cause any undue expense to the railroads, as the order applies entirely to new equipment and Is immediately effec tive only with respect to new cars." Sufficient time will be granted to the railroads properly to equip their old cars with Jhe new standards. Eld ward A. Moseley, secretary of the commission, who has devoted nearly a third of a century to the work of obtaining these standards and to securing the enactment by congress of safety appliance and em ployers' liability legislation, collapsed from an attack of heart disease on the day the agreement as to the standards was reached. His condition is regarded as serious, and he may never be able to resume active work. 8lze Settles Question of Fare. "Curious," said an old railroad con ductor to a New York Sun man, "how parents' memories lapse sdmetimes about the age of their children. But up at Bronx Park, in running the electric launches that ply from the boathouse there on the Bronx river, they have a fare system that avoids all such mistakes and does away with any necessity of remembering on the part of parents whatever. On these boats the fare for adults and children over four feqt in height is ten cents, for children under four feet in height, five cents. There's a system that seems to be simplicity Itself, don't you think? You never have to ask how old a child is, you go by the child's height, regardless of age, and I don't know but what that system might be applied to advantage on railroads. You could Just have a four- foot mark on the jamb of the door through which passengers passed, and just back the child up against that mark. It would take far less time than the talk now necessary in arguing about the child's age." Pullmans for invalids. Invalid railroad travelers in Switz erland will soon be able to enjoy all the comforts of a well equipped sick room. The Swiss federal railroads have Just ordered four Pullman coaches specially fitted for the trans- fort of invalids. Each car, costing $12,000, will be di vided into seven compartments, the center compartment l^eing for the pa tients. There is to be an operating room for urgent cases requiring Imme diate surgical treatmdent and another compartment will be equipped as a pharmacy. Electric bed warmers and bath heaters will be provided. The other compartments will be set apart for doctors, nurses and friends of the patients. All He Was Worth. Once there was an Indian named Big Smoke, employed as a missionary to his fellow Smokes. A white man. encountering Big Smoke, asked him what he did for a living. "Uraph!" said Big Smoke, "me preach;" "That to? What do you get for preaching?" "Me get ten dollars a year." "Well." said the white man. "that's damn poor pay." "Umph!" said Big Smoke, "me poor preacher." Could Not Do Otherwise. "She praised your complexion to the ikies." "So she should*1 she borrowed my box of powder last week and h*» been wearing my complexion ever since." Stimulated Interest. Hartow--"Jimson seems to have a wonderful amount of adaptability." Barlow--"You bet he has. Why, 1 once saw him get netted over a fUM ,At chess "