The New Era. (Davenport, Okla.), Vol. 6, No. 33, Ed. 1 Thursday, September 24, 1914 Page: 4 of 10
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Entered as i
at the post off
according to a
M. A. HUiV
to Battle '
The Ambition of Mark Truitt
HENRY RUSSELL MILLER
"THE MAN HIGHER UP," "HIS RESB
TO POWER." Etc.
. x \-\ \ \ \ _\ \ \ \
Mark Truitt. encouraged by hi* *«'-
tieart, Unity Martin, leave* Bethel, hi*
native town, to eeek hi* fortune.
.Truitt telle Mark that It long I
}iln dream to see a eteel plant at Bethel
*nd a*k* the eon to return and build
one If he ever get* rich. Mark applies to
Thorn a* Henley, head of the Qulnby Iron
■work*, for a Job and I* *ent to tha con-
struction rang. HI* sucrea* In that work
■wins him a plac* aa helper to Roman
Mndirejxakl. open-hearth furnaceman. He
become* a boarder In Roman's home and
attaint* Plotr, Roman's son. In his Btudle*.
!Ka*la. an adopted daughter, shows her
Kratltude In such a manner as to arouse
Mark's Interest In her. Heavy work In
1lie Intenee heat of the furnace cause*
Mark to collapse and Kasla cares for
Titm. I^ater Roman also succumbs ana
Mark get* his Job Roman resents this
■ nd tell* Mark to And another boarding
Thn roar o
flash of the n
as they swea
dtiction of th
will be held
S. 6. 7, 8, fl a
slfled speed o
have the op)
hangs a prlci
bats with Fat
holder of sev<
tracks. In h
driven at bull
the seconds c
will battle wl
of the Martin
ene of the c
devil than I)!
partner of th
Held. It was
cago driver. |
(Copyright. 1913. bv Tha Bobfca-MerrtJl Company)
In which he could congratulate himself
on havipg avoided a serious blunder.
Not many months latar he by chance
met Plotr, who oonveyed the news that
Kazla had married Whiting. Piotr's
manner of narration Implied that,
though Whiting waa a poor refuge,
Kazla had been fortunate to escape
Mark. He seemed disappointed that
his auditor ahowed no deep emotion.
Mark's letters to Unity had contin-
ued, at erratic Intervals. Boon her re-
plies, too, began to dwindle In number
and In length; they had never had
much to lose In the way of Intensity.
And then he sent a letter that she
failed to answer at all, leaving their
love affair suspended, so to speak. In
the air. One of Simon's rare and mis-
spelled missives Informed Mark that
she was, In the phrase Bethel used,
keeping company with one Slocum, a
prosperous young farmer of the vicin-
ity. This may hardly be regarded as
poetic retribution. It caused Mark a
few days' surface Indignation and a
secret relief; one can not feel deeply
the loss of a shadow, even though one
has paid # price for her.
Kasla married; Unity, having Jilted
him, keeping company with plodding
BUI Slocum! His tragedy bad ended
In sheer fare*. We do well, he con-
cluded, not to take our dramas too
Wounded on the Field.
The aocldent was one that happened
eften. Occasionally, after a tap. water
"would be turned Into the cinder pit
that the cooling slag might harden and
Ibe broken without delay. Not seldom
the water would be conveyed under
ithe crust, come Into contact with the
•till molten slag and be converted sud-
denly Into steam. Then there would
Ibe an explosion. Men might be seri-
ously injured, or even killed, which
"was rory sad—but one of the hazards
ot the employment. It happened when
iMark had been following hta straight
road ahead for more than Ave years.
Five years during which he had won
success, substantial If not brilliant!
fThe lack of brilliancy might have been
disputed by those few who knew that
■undry labor-saving devices installed
In the Qulnby mills during this period
(were of his Invention.
When Henley heard of the acci-
dent he frowned; Henley detested ac-
cidents, which spoke of Inefficiency
■omewhere. But when the Informa-
tion waa added that the foreman of
the open-hearth battery was among
the injured, he said: "Damn!" and
In person at once called the hospital
and his own physician by telephone
and through these agencies command
«ered the best surgical skill and care
(or that valuable workman.
The doctors gathered in solemn
conclave and did various things to
Mark's shattered body. They dogged
his steps into the very shadow ot
death and would not let him die. They
did that, knowing they condemned him
to a life of pain, and having the se-
curity of Thomas Henley's word that
their bills should each and every one
of them be paid.
While Mark still lingered In the vale
of mystery that leads to full knowl-
edge, two men began their dally—and
nightly—watches. One waa a thin
faded man who wore the rusty black
of the country preacher. The other
waa an awkward, gray little man
who would sit motionless by the hour,
never taking his eyes from the still
form under the white sheet.
Mark did not die. His broken body
began slowly to mend. He passed out
of Immediate danger; he was even al-
lowed to talk and to be talked to a lit-
tle. But in the manner of the nurses,
of his visitors from Bethel, even ot the
calloused doctors, were a grave gen-
tleness, an absence of the exultation to
be expected after triumph over death.
He felt it.
He put his question to his father.
"What are they keeping back from
Simon's glance did not waver, nor
did he try to evade with a soothing
lie. "Ye'U never walk easy again
Ye'll have to use a crutch, leastways
a cane, always."
"It's my hip?"
"Is that all?"
"Ye were hurt innardly. Ye'll have
to be careful always. No more work
In the mills."
Mark closed his eyes, uttering no
complaint. But within waa a turmoil
of protest and rebellion. A cripple,
a partial Invalid for life! Half a
man! So had ended the dreamed cam
palgn ot conquest. Tears of futile rage
seeped out through his closed eyelids.
His recovery was slow and very
painful; six years of driving ahead at
top speed bad left blm but little re-
serve vitality for the emergency. The
mood of rebellion died down from
sheer exhaustion. He accepted his
misfortune; but sullenly, with no swell-
ing heroic resolve to defy untoward
There waa no conscious desire to
return to the mills from which he had
been banished. They were too much
the object of his smoldering resent-
ment Just then. Ha felt toward them
•a the betrayed toward the traitor.
"I think," be said once to Simon and
Richard Courtney, who had not yet
left the city, "III go back to BetheL"
"It will be a good place to rscuper
ate," said the preacher
"But 1 mean to stay."
"We shall be glad to hare yon back."
Thoughts of Bethel naturally revived
the memory of Unity Martin. Mark
found a certain grim humor in the
He bad had hla period of tragic re-
morse for Kasla. He had not, how
ever, let conscience push to the ex
treme of disturbing the fixed destiny
just mentioned. Nor waa he long in
attaining a comparative peace of miud
An amazing thing happened one day.
There was the sound of a quick un-
familiar tread in the corridor, the door
was pushed briskly open and Into the
room stepped Thomas Henley.
"How are you. Truitt?" he inquired,
shaking hands. "I was going by, had
a few minutes and ran up to find out
"Well enough, I guess," Mark re-
plied out of his amazement.
"Good!" said Henley. "Your father,
I presume?" He nodded toward Simon.
Mark made the necessary introduc-
tions. Simon said: "Pleased to meet
ye," and flushed for his son, who had
had to own up to the relationship.
Toward the other visitor Henley
glanced uncertainly a moment, then
held out a hand.
"Ah! Doctor Courtney! Do you hap-
pen to remember me?" The question,
obviously, was In playful Irony.
"I happen to," answered Courtney,
who did not share Simon's shyness
"I remember now. it waa you who
sent this young man tt>« me. I," said
Henley graqiously, "am In your debt."
The preacher's shadowy smile ap-
peared. "Ia he?"
Henley laughed pleasantly. "I fancy
he Is. And I have a notion the debt
Mark responded ungraciously -"Be-
cause, when you pay for it, you've got
to pay for thla, too." He put a hand
on the Injured hip. "That is. If I ever
put the idea In shape.'"
Henley waved a hand to Intimate
that allowance must be made for an
Invalid's humors. "Of course, we ex-
pect you to be business-like. Just what
do you mean by that 'If?"
"I mean I'm through with the mills."
"Who." Henley's glance swept Simon
and Richard Courtney sharply, "who
has been putting fool ideas into your
"You, for one, when you come here
because I'm a valuable man, not be-
cause I'm a man. Would you come to
■see me If I hadn't a new Invention in
"Nonsense! You're slek. that's all."
Henley smiled kindly but confidently.
"I've seen men In your case before.
You think you won't come back. But
you will. Why? Because you're a val-
uable man—I stick to that. You've a
genius for mechanics, you know how
to handle men and you've got a sense
of organization. Most men would think
themselves lucky If they had any one
of those. What does it mean? That
you fit in here, of course. And when
a man fits into any kind of life, he can
no more keep away than molten steel
can avoid the ahape of the mold. And
—you'll find It so—there's something
about our bualness that gets into the
bone and blood of a man.". He looked
at his watch and rose abruptly. "Glad
you're getting along. Don't forget, your
Job is waiting for you."
But you don't seem to understand,"
Mark cried. "I'm done for. I'll have
to go on a cane, maybe a crutch, all
my life. And the doctors say, no hard
work at alL"
Henley could be very human, when
he chose. "Ah!" he said gently. "I
had not heard that I'm sorry. It
makes a difference, ot course."
It is possible that Henley was not
thinking of Mark's, commercial value,
as he stood looking searchingly down
at the querulous patient.
Unexpectedly he leaned forward a
little. Prom his eyes a commanding
flash leaped. He put out a hand and
caught one of Mark's strongly.
Your brains don't need a crutch, do
they? it isn't brute strength that
makes you valuable—we can buy that
cheap. You said something about be-
ing a man. hfow's your chance to be
one. What's a little thing like a crutch
or a doctor's prohibition? The meas-
ure of a man is what he overcomes.
Go home and rest, get your nerve to-
gether. And when you're ready, let
me know. I'll find a place for you."
He was gone. And there waa Mark,
who had Just been weakly if resent-
fully accepting defeat, athriil like a
war-horse that haa heard the bugle
tkaftind mjr Mek.
And when they haven't anything else
to gossip about, they talk about how
I'm settling into an old maid."
"Isn't that what the rhetorics used
to call hyperbole? It should be spar-
ingly used. Besides I hear you have
"Oh! him!" With another shrug.
"He's afraid I'm not a good cook."
"That's a nice way to talk about a
lover! Especially," he laughed self-
consciously, "since you threw me over
for him ." .
He almost missed the add look she
flashed at him. - "It broke your heart,
"I've had pleaaanter experiences."
he said dryly. "Why didn't you .mswer
my last letter. Unity?"
Her indifference might have been a
little too well dona "For one thing,
even I have a little pride. It was
easy to see you'd got tired of me. Not
that I cared! Those boy-and-glrl af-
"I'm Going Back—Home."
will grow. I am finishing your Job,
He turned to Mark. Simon and
Courtney pushed their chairs back
from the bedside, that the great man
might hold the stage.
"When," Henley asked, "do you ex-
pect to come back to us?"
Mark winced and returned to the
suilenness that was becoming his
habit. "I'm going back—home."
The pause and the Slight emphasis
on the last word were not lost on Hen-
ley; a suspicion as to their Import
"Exactly right!" he exclaimed heart
ily. "Stay as long as necessary to get
your strength together. You're too
valuable a man to take chances. Your
Job will wait for you. By the way,
about that new charging machine you
spoke of before the accident; I sup-
pose the plans aren't where we can lay
our hands on them?"
"No," answered Mark, "you can't lay
your hands on them. They're In my
"An excellent place to keep 'em,"
Henley agreed. "Suppose then, when
you're feeling up to It, I send one of
our engineer* after you to go over the
plans with you? It there's anything In
the idea, we ought to install the ma-
chines before winter."
"You can send him, if you want to.
But I won't go over the plans with
him." Mark discouraged the sugges-
Henley stiffened. "I'm not in the
bualness of stealing Inventions."
The Meaaure of a Man.
When he met Unity again, he had
been in Bethel for more than two
He had started out for the morning
turn on hie crutches, to test his re-
turning strength, and before he quite
realized it the village lay behind him
He swung along for some two hundred
yards farther; then let himself care-
fully down on the roadside.
He sat there for a long time, baring
his head to the summer sunshine.
"This Is very good indeed!" It
would have been almost flawless but
for one thing—he was rather lonely;
he felt the need for some one to share
the day with him.
He had his wish. Down the valley
road appeared a buggy drawn by a
lazy heavy-footed horse of the sort dis-
tinguished as "safe for women." From
within the buggy Mark caught the
gleam of a white shirtwaist and a
sailor hat. Even before the vehicle
drew near enough for recognition, he
knew the passenger for Unity.
A slight tremor passed over him. To
meet the embodiment of a shadow by
whom one haa been Jilted—or whom
one has Jilted?—Is at least mildly ex-
A slight tightening of the reins was
sufficient to stop that horse.
"Hello, Unity!" Mark felt that this
greeting fell short of the dramatic
"Oh! How do you do?" she an-
There was a moment of silence dur-
ing which, without seeming to do sc.
they Inspected each other.
Mark had a twinge of disappoint-
ment. This was not the Unity he had
loved so boyishly—and so briefly. She
was as pretty aa ever. In a way even
prettier; but one could hardly have
thought of her as spirituelie. Her face
was fuller, Its color deeper, and theje
was a healthy roundness In the line
of shoulder and breaat, of the ankle
that protruded from under the dust-
robe. Not that she was fat! But her
daintiness was gone. In the Item of
dress she would have suffered from
comparison with the young ladles of
his boarding house. Her hair was done
carelessly. And vivacity had gone the
way of dalntineas. She had the air
of having settled into the habit of
Bethel, of having accepted ita narrow
outlook. A faint vertical line between
her eyea hinted that ahe might not
bave accepted it with complacency.
Therefore he said: "You look the
same aa ever. Unity."
She brightened a little. "You think
so?" There was something almost
pitiful to him In the way she caught
at the remark. She became apiritleaa
again. "But, of courae, that isn't
"But, of course. It Is."
She laughed unpleaaantly. "Tou
wouldn't think ao. If you saw the way
they treat me here now."
"The men? Surely not!"
She shrugged her shoulders. "No.
The women. They'!* so friendly now
He Was Still Resting on His Grassy
Bank When the Slow-Going Vehicle
fairs always die a natural death. There
was another girl, wasn't there?"
"Why, I believe so. In fact, there
was. I gave her up for you."
"And I gave you up. You must have
thought," again her unpleasant laugh
rang, "you'd made a poor bargain all
round. Or had a lucky escape!"
"I did," he answered grimly, leaving
her to construe the answer aa she
"That's an easy conundrum." She
gathered up the reins. "Well, I must
be going. We're harvesting now and
I have to get back in time to help get
She drove on, aa caaually as If they
had been neighbors In the habit of
meeting dally. . . . And this was their
tlrst meeting after six years.
He leaned back on his grassy bank,
having found, if not a companion, at
least food for reflection.
He was still resting on bis grassy
bank when, an hour later, the slow-
going vehicle reappeared. With diffi-
culty—for he had not yet become ex-
pert wtih his crutches—he rose and
stood in the middle of the road. The
horse, without urging, stopped with its
nose against him. A more skilled ob-
server than Mark might have noticed
that some villager's mirror and comb
had been utilized to the advantage of
Unity's hair and that her hat had been
readjusted to its most becoming angle;
and would have drawn certain In-
Mark did not. He merely smiled at
her over the horse's head.
She seemed rather Impatient with
his obstructiveness. "You've bought
the pike, then? I hadn't heard."
He laughed and waved his hand air-
ily. "This morning the world is mine.
Do you know, we haven't shaken
"Oh, haven't we?" Her tone at
tached no importance to the omlBSion
Nevertheless, when he stood aside,
Bhe drove the horse forward a length
and laid a limp hand In Mark's.
"Also," he continued, "you haven't
said you're sorry that I was hurt."
"Oh!" she repeated, with perfunc-
toriness unrelieved. "I'm Borry."
He laughed again. "You needn't
mind now. You'll have plenty of
chances before long."
"The road to your house Is still open
to the public. Isn't It? I'm thinking
of buying a new horse. Unity." he re-
turned to gravity, "there isn't any rea-
son why we shouldn't be good friends,
"People will talk."
He paraphrased a classic formula
"Unity," he said earnestly, "drat the
"You can say that. You don't have
to stay here."
"But I'm going to stay here."
"Not for good?"
Mark laughed shortly. "When you're
put out of the race, you don't want to
stay where you have to watch the
others still running."
Bhe Inspected him again, mors
closely. He thought he was sincere.
But he did not know that despite the
crutches and bis drawn white face he
had not the resigned dispirited air of
the man who has accepted a perms
nent seat on the shelf.
"Look as long as you want to," he
suggested at last. "In the meantime—
will you set the dogs on me when I
drive down your way?"
"Oh, well!" She tried unsuccess-
fully to return to Indifference. "If you
really want to come—! It's been a
dull season. I suppose It would be a
mercy to the gossips to give their
She drew the reins taut
"A real philanthropy," he assented,
grinning, as the horse lumberingly re-
sumed Its Journey.
Mark swung slowly along homeward.
He smiled pityingly. He had read
aright the new interest in Unity's face
—that of the condemned prisoner who
has heard rumor of reprieve. He was
sorry for her. And pity—we have it
from the poets—is love's poor relation.
Mark regained a measure of strength.
He discarded one crutch and began
each day to take a few Bteps experi-
mentally with no support but a cane.
He spent many beautiful idle hours,
alone or with Richard Courtney, driv-
ing his new horse among the hills
Sometimes—often—Unity was with
him on these drives. Tongues clacked
according to prophecy. But Mark did
not care. And Unity did not cars-
Mark fell placidly and easily in love
with Unity again. At least, the while
protesting, he decided that it must be
But the protest was half-hearted.
He wanted to love.
"Are ye goln' to stay here in
Bethel?" Slmop broke a long silence
to inquire, one rainy evening.
"I don't know," Mark answered out
of a brown study, off his guard. But
he added quickly: "Yes, I do know.
I'm going to stay."
"Then, what are ye goln' to do?"
"I don't need to do anything. I've
got twenty thousand dollars. That'll
last me—in Bethel."
Simon shook his head gravely. "Ye
can't stand that. Ye've got to do
somethin*. An' there's nothin' to do
"And never will be."
"Mebby not. All the more reason
why that Mister Henley's right"
"Would you have me go back to
"You don't know what you're say-
ing," Mark began irritably. "I could
never take a pen pusher's Job. The
mills are all I know. And that life—
you don't know It. It costs too much.
It takes it out of you. drives you like
a slave. It—I'm not lit for it now.
It—oh, let's not talk about it"
But Simon had more than one of
Mark's problems on his mind.
"Are ye," he went on, "goln' to
marry Unity Martin?"
"I don't know. I suppose so."
"If ye don't find out purty soon,'
remarked Simon most surprisingly,
"she'll do your knowin' fur ye. I
Mark stopped at a window, looking
frownlngly out at the sheets of rain
that dashed across the square ot light
Simon mUBt have felt deeply on the
subject, for he repeated, "I wouldn't"
"No," said Mark teatily, "I Buppose
you wouldn't I don't know. But If I
do it, It will be with my eyes open."
Which seems a most unlover-like say-
There was an evening when he was
alone with Unity on Squire Martin's
front porch. It was one of the soft
languorous nights that sometimes
come to Bethel in early September.
They talked little and that in low
Once he leaned toward her. He had
to peer closely to make out her look
"Do you know," he remarked, "you
ought to be glad I came back?"
"Indeed! And why?"
"Have you looked In the mirror
lately? When I first came you looked
—well, cranky and aa though you
didn't care whether school kept or
"Well, of all the conceit! I sup-
pose you take all the credit" Thus
she admitted certain improvements.
"And why not?" he laughed lazily.
"When you come right down to It,
Unity, you never really, definitely
threw me over."
"It Isn't too late."
"Yes, It Is too late."
She said nothing. But when he
reached up tb take her hand he found
it a tightly clenched little ball.
"Unity, do you remember the drive
we took that Sunday before 1 went to
"I think I do."
"She thinks she does!" he apostro-
phized the night "I have a scheme.
Tomorrow, right after dinner, I'm go-
ing to drive down here for you. Unity,
let'B have the Sunday over again—
in every particular."
Again she waa qjlent
"You don't agree?"
"I—I'm not sure."
"That you love me?"
She shook her head. "That I want
to marry you."
But when he drew her down and
kissed her, she did not resist. "Walt,"
be whispered fatuously, "until tomor-
row. Then you will be convinced."
Although what virtue the morrow
would hold he did not say. He prob-
ably did not guess.
Unity did not scruple to change the
current of another's life; she saw no
occasion for scruples. She thought she
foved Mark But she did not believe
his expressed resolve to Btay In Bethel
was, could be, genuine; or. If genuine,
that Its execution would be good for
him. And, principally—she knew ex-
actly what she wanted.
Next day they drove over much the
same road they had taken seven years
before. They chatted In lighter vein,
with Intervals of eloquent silence. On
a tilltop whence they could see only
other hills and the sinking sun thay
ate the lunch pat up by the thoughtful
Susan. Then they waited to watch ths
"Unity, what must I do to convince
"Nothing," she murmured.
He considered his happiness.
And after a while she said: "Tell
me about your life In the city. You've
never said much about It."
innocent demand! Not In vain Is
the trap set In ths sight of a young
mills to her. And as he went oc, 1MB
his words crept the unconscious elo-
quence of a real enthusiasm. His face
became eager. Before he had ended,
he was on his feet declaiming to her,
who was a very attentive audience. He
saw what he described.
"Ah!" Bhe breathed, as he reached
a period. "What a life! And you
could leave It?"
"You forget," he reminded her, "I
waa put out of It."
She leaned forward suddenly, rest-
ing her band on the one that held th®
cane. "Mark, why don't you go back
He Jerked his hand free, as if he had
felt a twinge of pain. "Don't Buggest
that, Ualty!" he cried. "There's that
other aide. It's hard and cruel and
narrowing. It eats up all the best
of you. Sometimes it kills you. It
makes you a machine, not your own
man. I used to feel it when I was
there, sometimes terribly. Here I see
it from a distance and I understand
better. It's Just one hellish scramble,
that life—" He stopped abruptly, with
an Impatient gesture.
"If 1 go back. Unity, you won't—"
But how could he phrase his fear or
Interpret the hot surging that drowned
She sighed happily.
He was soon to learn.
A man and a woman entered Into
the most trying of human relations.
Both were young, but both had har-
dened in the pursuit of selfish desire.
Neither had the love that finds ita
chief Joy in yielding.
A Man and His Wife.
In the down-town offices of the
Quinby company and in the particular
room which may be called the head-
quarters of the Qulnby army, two men
were sitting late one winter afternoon.
The one waa Henley himself, now
chairman of the company, a bit stouter
than when we first met him twelve
years ago, his arrogance a little leas
evident in manner albeit time had not
altered the fact The other was a
youngish man whose thin bony face
and hands and streaks of premature
gray hair Bpoke of physical frailty.
It waa common knowledge in the
Qulnby company that no one was
more welcome In Henley's office than
the young superintendent whom the
master's Influence had put in com-
mand of the big new open-hearth
plant. It was even suspected that
Henley had taken Truitt In with him
in his speculations.
At the end of a long discussion of
company affairs Henley pressed a but-
ton. His secretary appeared from the
"Bring in the light and heat ac-
The secretary returned with the ac-
count of the latest successful specula-
tion. Henley gave It a rapid glance
and handed It to Mark. The latter
studied It carefully, questioned certain
Items, questioned the explanation and
Anally accepted them. Henley smiled
At the Door a Crippled Beggar Ac-
again. He knew men who would have
hesitated to question his accounts.
Everything he knew of Truitt he liked.
"Make out Mr. Trultt's check." he
directed the secretary, who withdrew
and promptly returned.
Henley signed the check and deliv-
ered it to Mark. The latter receipted
the accompanying voucher.
"I've another thing in mind," Hen-
ley suggested. "Care to go In?"
Mark hesitated, his brow suddenly
wrinkling. "I think not," he said at
last. The note of Irritation did not
escape Henley. "I've my eye on a new
"I thought you were pretty com-
Mark shrugged his shoulders. "It
seems the neighborhood leaves some-
thing to be desired."
"Yes? I see," Henley Indicated
Mark's heavy furred overcoat, "you're
driving out. You can take me home
—unless you're In a hurry to reach
that delinquent neighborhood V
A quarter of an hour later ths two
men emerged from the corridor of ths
Qulnby building. At the door a crip-
pled beggar accosted them. Henley
ignored him. Mark slyly gave him a
A beautifully matched team of blacks
harnessed to a light sleigh awaited
him. Evidently Mark had not forgot-
ten his early knowledge of horse flesh.
Only a man whom fortune had kissed
could have afforded such horses. For
Mark—with his "leg and a half"—they
were hardly an extravagance, almost
(TO BIB CONTINUKBk)
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Tryon, W. M. The New Era. (Davenport, Okla.), Vol. 6, No. 33, Ed. 1 Thursday, September 24, 1914, newspaper, September 24, 1914; Davenport, Oklahoma. (gateway.okhistory.org/ark:/67531/metadc109962/m1/4/: accessed February 18, 2019), The Gateway to Oklahoma History, gateway.okhistory.org; crediting Oklahoma Historical Society.