The New Era. (Davenport, Okla.), Vol. 6, No. 38, Ed. 1 Thursday, October 29, 1914 Page: 2 of 8
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DAVEHPOR *Fo * L A.
NEW E R A
The Ambition of Mark Truitt
f tt wouMnt b« a whole love. R eoe 'n't
5« a luting love. Lore can't lite ex-
cept In the light of day"
"Love. If tt is love. is its own light."
"Bat the risk you fear! b would be
crester jour way."
"This Is my risk, not toot*.* Her
arms encircled his neck, drawing bis
:au> s smooth clear river that wound
a and out among ever wooded hills.
They passed the region where the
•miel ax had swung and scarred: the
trees became bigger, the forest denser.
J Here and there they came to a rapids
where cbe cwnoes had to be lifted and
! Kasla to stay over two days, that they
might have one last uninterrupted pe-
riod together It was a mistake, an
They were at breakfast when, glanc-
ing up. Mark espied s familiar figure
Mr. Quintjf " said Mark not St>
coldly, "your tone—! My word—"
"Ah!" Quinby waved a pacific hand.
"If your word is passed, that Is enough.
I am happy to believe it Mrs. Whit-
ing seems a charming woman. A well
kot cheek down to hers 1 And there Her almost awed perception of each
is no one else. I am alone. No one unfolding beauty touched him. On a
HENRY RUSSELL MILLER
"THE MAN H1GHF R UP." ~H RISE
TO POWER,- E4C-
I (Coorritfht. 7913. by Tbe Bobbs- Merrill Cxxnpaery)
would be hart. It wouldn't—it could n?
—be a bigger lore if given In the
world'* way. And It is all I can have,
all I can giro. Let me hare it until—"
She ended in a gaap that was almost
! a sob.
Mark Trultt, anrf.irtf^d by hts iwk(-
heart. Unity Martin. leaves B«thet. hia
native town, to s**?k hla fortune Simon
Trultt tells Mark that It Ion* haa k«n
hia dream to a uteri plnnt at
and aaku hia aon to return and build
ona Jf he eir«:r seta rich. Mark applies to
Thomas Henly. h««d of the wulrfiy Iron
work*, for a >ob and la a«nt to it.* con-
struction sans Hia u* ress in that work
wins him a pi*- — aa helper to Roman
Andarejzakl, upen-h<-*rth furnacem&n. He
becomes a boarder in Roman a home and
aaalars Plotr. Human's a n. In bis atud:««
Kasla. an adopted daushter. sftovrs her
■xailtude In such a manner aa to arouse
Mark's intereat In her. Heavy work In
the intenae heat of the furnace causes
Mark to collar and Kazia. car*** for
him. letter Roman also succumb* and
Mark gets his job. Roman resents this
and tells Mark to get another boardins
place. Five years elapse during whl< h
Mark has advanced to the foreman* hi p.
While bis Isifror-saving devices havt rn* .
fctm Invaluable to the company. In the
meantime Kazia has married on#- Jim
■Whiting Mark meets with an accident I
Which dooms him to be a Tipple for lif"
He rsturns to Bethel Intending to tay
there. He finds Unity about to marry «n-
other man an<i wins her back '"n.'ty
unr^s him to return to his work In ti e
city Mark rises rapidly lo wealth and
pewer In the steel bisines*. but the so-
cial ambitions of his wife make their mar-
Had Ufe unhappy The big stt<: interests
•re secretly anxious to get hold of stork
In the Iroquois Iron company, supposed
in be worthless Timothy Wood house
ta*ks financial assistance from Mark and
the latter buys Woodhouse'n Iroquois
Stock at a small figure. Henly forces
Quinby to 1 * M'ifk hav- ati -c In ti
Q 'r+ty company Mark finds Plotr rna>-
1ns a socialistic speech oc the atr«-et and
the hoy shows r>iat he is still bitter
Sgaina* Mark. Mark finds Kazia. who
la divoroed and is now a hospital nurse,
caring for Roman who is near deatn
Mark Is advised by hla physician to atop
taking drug* and take a long rest. He
gets sis months" l«ave of abaence One
day he takes Kasla out driving, and they
meet Mrs. Trultt A bitter quarrel en-
sues and Mark demands h divorce, H*
absents himself from the city during th*
divorce proceedings and jmak<*s no an-
•wer tn the aenaatlortal -ifars** brought
by Mra Trultt. On hia return he Is
treated ooldiy by many former friends.
But I'd hare expected you to say that
Her eyes fell again to the tewing. A ready
"Kazia. 'he asked directly, after a He went to sleep that night, fearing
moment "has any one ever connected a k«,nmg But u he woke lo
yon with my scandal -
the summons of the early summer sun-
She looked up quickly again. ' Why. 6h;Df m|ing hls hote, room
no How could they T' dreaded reaction did not come
A mysterious woman has been men-
tioned. I've been afraid that every
one I've had to do with might be
smirched with me I difa t want you- ^ "of awe-and the query. Could he
or all women—to be touched.
"Do yon care so much about it all?"
"1 wouldn't admit it to any one else.
could think only with tenderness of
the woman who had yielded to him.
the love that did not haggle, with a
The Red Glow.
Henley did not know what an im-
petus be had given with his "Pick out
the thing 700 want most and Qght
until yoa get It."
Mark had not sought out Kazia.
More than he would admit to himself,
he had suffered during the weeks of in-
justice. Suffering bad for the time
dulled the longing for her. And be-
hind that bad been a proud reluctance
to offer a love tainted by the tongues
of scandal mongers. But now the hun-
ger for a great love—born on an
autumn evening of bis youth when he
had come npon a frail slip of a girl
raptly gazlDg Into the twilight, too
moch a part of him to be stifled even
during the years of fierce blind strug-
gle and disappointment—made itself
fait again, downing pride. . . .
He called up the Todd hospital, was
told that Mrs. Whiting was not there,
but could be reached at a certain num-
ber He called up that number.
The response came In a low voice
that even the telephone could not rob
of IU music for him. His heart leaped
There was a pause, then the low
voice came again: "Who is that?"
"This is Mark Trultt"
Another wait, so long that be thought
the connection had beeu broken.
"Is there any place 1 could meet
yoa—by accident V
"Is there any reason for an acci-
"If you think not, there Is none.
. . Are you still Hi r '"
"Tea. . . . You can come here." She
gave an address
"If you wish. . . . Qood-by."
He alighted from a car that eve-
ning before a big but unpretentious
apartment bouse In one of the city's
quieter neighborhoods. -Three stories
above the street be came to a door on
which was her card. He knocked.
She opened the door. For many
seconds they stood looking at each
other, motionless, speechless. ... He
broke the silence. In a strange greet-
ing that spoke of Itself.
"How often I remember you so—on
"I thought It was your step." The
rich color surged before the Invita-
tion, lent meaning by his greeting.
"Will you come In?"
The quiet little sitting room was a
caress He thought he had never
found, even tn the wilderness, so rest-
ful a place.
"I suppose." he said aloud, when
they were seated, "it's part of tbe mys-
tery of personality."
"This room. It's tbe homiest I've
ever been In."
"I'm glad you like It I've had It
for years. 1 suppose 1 oughtn't to keep
ft, because I don't get much good of
tt except In vacation. But I like to
think of It as a place to come back
"You're on your vacation now?"
"Yes. I have a long one this year.
1 take only Doctor Wolfs cases now,
and he Is abroad for the summer."
He leaned back In the chair to which
she had assigned hlin and watched
her under cover of their lnconsequeo-
"Why did you ask me to come heref
"Because I didn't want you to
think—" She paused uncertainly.
"That you believe all you may have
beard of me lately. Thank you, Kazia.
But I do care. Kazia.
She was silent, but the dark eyes
were very gentle.
He leaned forward and drew her to
hiui. He kissed her again and again.
Kor a long minute he held her so. tn
silence. . . . Insidious moment, throw-
ing open the gate that he might peer
into a golden realm such as even this
Joseph had never dreamed!
"You haven't said it" he broke the
"That I love you? Do I need—"
"No." He kissed her again. "Only
He arose, and going to the tele-
phone. called her number.
"Is it you?" He heard the eager
catch In the low voice.
"Who else could it be?" He laughed.
"Kazia, if you should happen to in-
vite me to breakfast—"
"Oh, will you? Come soon. I—I
am always waiting for you."
But as be turned away from the
telephone, something caught in bis
throat "Poor Kazia!" he muttered.
"We've cut out a big Job for our-
He did not have to knock at her
door. While he was still mounting
I can t quite believe It yet. It's worth the last flight of stairs, it was thrown
going through all the trials and dis-
appointments and ugliness—to have
Much later—It did not seem long—
he asked: "Kazia, when will you marry
Jatting point they found a deserted
little cabin, some trapper's winter
abode. There the journey ended. When
the but had been cleaned out, they dis-
missed the guide with orders to re-
turn every three weeks with fresh
supplies. . . .
Mindful of his resolve, he planned
their days carefully, thinking only that
they might be perfect for her.
The man was swept out of himself,
out of his groove of thought, as never
before. His struggles and victories
and disappointments receded: they
seemed part of another existence. If
he thought of them briefly at all. it
was but as a price well paid for his
freedom. He did not guess that the
habit of thinking minutely fy her
hippiness was slowly prying loose
other and firmly fixed habits.
Two moons waxed and waned. The
guide came with supplies, and again
a second time. On his third appear-
ance. the time set for their departure,
Mark without consulting Kazia, sent
him back. She did not seem to notice
the change hi plan.
Oa the day when the guide should
have returned again, he did not come.
That evening a storm arose, such as
rarely visits even those northern
woods. Mark and Kazia were out on
the lake for a lazy after-supper paddle,
watching the masses of black cloud*
gather over the bills at the head of
the lake. There was a rumble of dls
Suddenly, overtaking the mountain-
at tbe doorway of the hotel dining poised woman! An unusual woman!"
room—a figure of courtly and noble "Very."
mien; moving with slow thoughtful "You leave today?"
stride and head slightly bent as "Yes."
though, even amid tbe commonplace "Then, since I hare your word In
functions of life, hia mind never the matter. I feel safe in Inviting you
ceased to dwell on momentous phil- and Mrs. Whiting to share my car aa
anthropic projects: and withal mod- far as Buffalo."
estly unaware of the whisper that ran "Mrs. Whiting may have a pref-
over the room or of the many necks erence."
craned in bis direction. An obsequious Quinby received this with the sur-
captain of waiters led him down the
room, and by fateful chance, toward
the ta<>le where sat Mark and Kazia.
Mark regarded him in that fascination
which a dangerous object often has
for its victim.
Now it may be that the philanthrop-
ist was not quite so unaware as he
seemed of tbe interest evoked by his
open and she stood awaiting blm in
the little entrance halL When he took
her in his close clasp, she put her ous vapor, appeared a lower plane of
hand to his forehead and looked clouds, flying before a wind that struck
searchingly Into his eyes. He was tbe water and sent a line of white
glad that what she saw there con- churning down the lake. They were
She did not answer for a long while tented her. not far out, but though they paddled
Then she gently pushed him away and "Oh, I'm glad," she murmured from swiftly, their light craft was tossing
spoke, slowly, as though a:l her , his shoulder, "I'm glad you called me iiite a cork before they reached shore-
strength were needed to force out | up." They made their landing, dragged the
"Of course I did. How long did yon canoe to safety and fled to the cabin
think I could wait to hear yoijr voice Just as a wall of green and darkness
"I can not marry you."
"You can not—" He stared at her,
She shook her head, mute.
"But why? You are free.'"
"I am free—under the law. But I
"You love me, and yet—"
"I can not"
"But why?" he persisted. "You must
have some reason." Then be aroused
himself. "Though you may Just as
well forget it. Do you think," he cried,
"I've found a real enduring love only
to let It go?"
"I have a reason. I—" 8he broke
off, looking away. Her bands clasped
tightly In her lap, unclasped, then
we* out In a little appealing gesture
as her eyes came back to htm. "It
isn't that I don't want to. I—I love
you. But—oh. can't you understand?
How could the love endure the little
trials and frictions, the nearness, the
commonplaceness of every day life to-
"Ah! 1 wish you hadn't said that."
He was staggered for the moment; to
him her reason was not an empty one.
But he went on firmly: ' That wouldn't
be true with us. It's never true where
there Is a real love to smooth the
way. And you and I—we mustn't Judge
by our past, because we've never
found the real love—until now."
"Yes, It Is real. I think It Is real."
From her wistful voice be thought
be bad shaken her. He pressed her
hard. "Of course. It is. Then, don't
"No, If It Is real, then I can't—(
daren't—risk losing It I haven't bad
mucb, ever, except this love—1 mustn't
lose It. And you don't know—I'm not
fine and clever and cultured, like—like
the women you've known. You'd see
the lacks—" She was becoming In-
coherent "Oh, don't try to persuade
me. You only make it hard. I've been
thinking of this—and of when you'd <
come—so long! And I know."
But be did try to persuade her. And |
longing lent him eloquence, as be pic-
tured for her their love, triumphant
over the starving years of separation,
triuuphlng again over the vexatious
problem of daily Intimacy.
Slowly It came to blm that she
meant her refusal. He released ber
and drew back, so suddenly that she
swayed and almost fell.
"Then It only means that you don't
love me. If you did, you wouldn t
count the risk."
"If you must believe that," she an-
swered sadly, "you must But It isn't
true. If I could forget tbe risk, I
shouldn't love you as I do."
He laughed harshly, and reaching
for his hat. turned toward the door
Tbe dreamed love had gone the way
of his beautiful philosophy.
But at tbe door he looked back. She
was standing as he had left ber, pale.
In ber eyes both fear and tbe glow of
the flame he had lighted. The hand,
held out to him In Involuntary ges-
ture. was trembling visibly.
"Why—do you go?"
"But you said—"
"1 didn't say—I wouldn't love you."
He laughed again. "What is love-
"We could." pitifully she put forth
tb* suggestion, "we could be friends."
"friends! I'm no bloodless poet I
want a whole love."
Her hungering look was calling him,
drawing him across the room to her.
It bado hlir take her. He took ber,
wonderlngly, dazed by the seeming
surrender. In his clasp she seemed to
find a new courage.
"Then—then—I will give you a
whole love—If you will take me as I
"No, no!" be muttered. "Not that
Kazia! I've burt you enough. And
"I was afraid you wouldn't If you
"But I did." He kissed her.
Afterward, when the table bad been
cleared and the dishes washed—he
helping with an awkwardness - they
found very comic—he broached his
"Kazia. have you ever been In the
"Ns>. But I remember you used to
tell me of tbe hills you came from.
I've always wanted to see them."
"Oh, yes, they're beautiful. But men
swept down upon them.
The fury was soon spent. The storm
passed beyond the lake. Still they
watched, in one of their long silences.
She sighed and stirred, looking up
at him. "I wonder—■" She paused.
"Have I hurt you?"
"By loving you. By coming here."
"No," he cried. "How could any
one be harmed by a perfect love? And
it has been perfect I can never for-
His heart ached with a deep polgn-
llve there. I meant clear out beyond ant tenderness for her. They were
tbe edge of things as you know them." silent again. . . . But after a time
So he told her of the wilderness he drowsiness overcame him and he slept
had visited—of calm pellucid rivers
that became noble lakes and then
rushed madly down narrow rocky
chutes; of vast stretches of untouched
forest pathlesB to all but the wild
things and the lonely, hardly less wild
trapper; of Its silences and ragings.
She listened eagerly.
"L«t's go there, Kazia."
The suggestion left her almost
breathless for a moment. "Dare we?"
"Why not?" she repeated slowly.
"There would be nothing to fear up
there, nothing to conceal. We could
stay until I have to go back to work."
"Longer, If you like It You needn't
think of work."
"But I must," she smiled. "I must
live—and I'm not a very rich woman."
"Hush!" She laid a silencing hand
over his Hps.
It was easily arranged. He dropped
a note to Henley which led the latter
On a Jutting Point They Found a De-
to believe that his counsel had been
taken and Mark had gone away to let
gossip run its course and die. Kazia
had no explanations to make.
They met In Toronto and there took
a train together. They alighted far to
the north at a rude little lumber town
where the smell of fresh-sawn lumber,
mingled with the fragrance of balsam,
swept down a long narrow lake. After
one night In the home of a lumberjack
to whose simple mind It never oc-
curred to question the status of hla
Yankee guests, they started up the
lake by canoe with a guide who was
to leave them when they bad made a
From beginning to end their stay In
the woods was without cloud or flaw
The narrow lake narrowed still further
She did not sleep. Until morning
she kept her vigil beside him. Some-
times she would lean over and touch
his outflung hand
When he awoke the sun was well up
over the hills. Kazia was standing In
the doorway, looking down the lake.
She beard him stir and turned. He
saw her eyes.
"I believe you haven't slept at all!"
She did not answer that, but smiled
"The guide Is coming. Let us hurry
It Is time for us to go."
"No!" He sprang to his feet.
" Please," she put out an appealing
hand, "let us not talk of It, but burry.
We must go. I've thought It out, and
It Is beet."
They breakfasted hurriedly and be-
gan the brief preparations to leave,
putting the cabin In order and stow-
ing into the canoes the little they
would need on the trip down the river.
They were soon ready.
They were about to embark when
Kazia, without explanation, turnod and
went back to the cabin. Many min-
utes passed and she did not reappear.
Then Mark followed her. He found
her lying prone on the pile of pine
boughs that had been their couch, face
buried in her arms. Harsh dry sobs
With a cry he dropped to his knees
beside her, gently stroking her hair,
trying to soothe her grief. He pleaded
with her to stay.
. Soon she had regained control. She
sat up, facing him.
"How can you think of going? Back
there we won't find It as It has been
"We must," she answered. "And
now, while It's still perfect. It has
been that—not a thing to regret. I've
crowded Into two months happiness
enough for a lifetime. If I must pay
for it, I am willing. . . . And you
have given it to me. Do you think I
haven't seen how you've watched over
me. thought only of me, to make It
perfect for me* I can never forget
that. And maybe, some day, I shall
have the chance to repay you. I pray
that I may have the chance."
"It Is l who will have to repay you.
But why leave such happiness? Let
us stay here, where love Is free and
clean and strong."
"If we only could! But we mnet go.
Because It wouldn't stay perfect There
are storms even tn the wilderness. A
time would come—you are a man
when love wouldn't be enough. You
would begin to want other men. You
would chafe against the loneliness and
Inaction. We would go gladly then
and we could look back on this only
as a dream that failed. But now oh.
I shall have something to remember'
And you will have something to remem-
ber. . . See! You know I'm right
. . . Come."
The Clsft Stick.
In Canada's capital, thinking them
selves still «afe, Mark bad persuaded
"Can It Be—Of Course, Is Is Trultt."
entrance, for a pair ot furtively roving
eyes alighted upon Mark. He stopped.
"Can it be—of course, It is Truitt
This is an unexpected pleasure." He
extended a genial hand.
Mark took It mechanically. "How
are you, Mr. Quinby?" he muttered out
of his daze.
prise of one whose invitations partak
of the peremptory quality of royalty's.
"I hope she will not prefer a stuffy
Pullman to my car, which has been
praised. I should be deeply hurt by
a refusal. In fact," Mark looked up
quickly, as though he had heard a
warning crack! overhead, "1 should
construe a refusal as evidence— But
let that go. There are company mat-
ters I wish to discuss with you. an&
this seems an opportune occasion."
The men regarded each other stead-
ily for a moment.
"I shall present your invitation,"
"With my compliments," Quinby
amended. "Er—Trultt, who Is Mrs.
Whiting? The name Is not familiar."
"I'm sure you never heard of her.
She's a trained nurse—a very success-
ful one, I believe. I'll let you know
They rose and Mark had the en-
viable distinction of marching with
Jeremiah Quinby through the long
dining room, where by this time the
whisper of the great philanthropist's
presence had been happily confirmed.
"Well," eaid Mark grimly, when he
had found Kazia in their rooms, "you
played audience to good purpose.
Quinby has Just informed me. with ex-
clamation points, that you are a charm-
ing woman, a well poised woman, an
She breathed a sigh of relief. "Then
he doesn't suspect?"
"He's so sure of the truth that ho
wouldn't believe hiB own testimony to
"What can we do?"
"Exactly nothing but accept his In-
vitation to travel in his car to Buffalo
—and trust to luck. Flattery and sub-
missiveness—he would call them har-
mony—are the way Into Quinby's good
But Quinby, when the Journey had
"I Buppose I am well." Jeremiah ke8un' made no reference to that party
Quinby smiled benignantly. "A busy
life leaves little time to consider the
state of one's health. You are looking
better than I have ever seen you."
"I'm better than I've ever been."
There was a pause during which
Quinby glanced tentatively at Kazia.
'Ah! Perhaps I am Intruding?
in the woods. His engaging manners
—never, said the envious, so pro-
nounced as in the presence of a pretty
woman—were displayed in their per-
fection. Even Mark's fears were
At first the philanthropist gave him-
self almost wholly to Kazia. He showed
Quinby smiled humorously, as one who ^er the splendors of his car, from tho
knows his welcome anywhere Is as little kitchen, where her expert ad-
sured. miration brought a grin even to the
Mark brought his whirling thoughts pudgy face of the Japanese cook, unto
to a stop. "No, certainly not Mrs. Poster cast of the ichthyosaurus
Whiting—" He performed an Intro- Qui^byi conspicuously placed at one
duction. Quinby's bow was impres-
"I see you have Just begun. Per-
haps—" He paused again, sugges-
"You will Join us? Mrs. Whiting,
Kazia nodded and smiled com-
"This is kind. Indeed. Though I
should not," Quinby bowed again to
Kazia, "bfame Trultt for being selfish."
He took the chair held out for him by
the waiter, glancing I'om Mark's sun-
browned face to Kazia's. "I see you
have both been out under the sun.
"Has just separated. Mrs. Whiting
is to let me—rather informally, to be
sure—convoy her home."
"And what of It, since no one is the
wiser? The conventions," Quinby wit-
tily accepted the explanation, "are
only for public consumption, though I
—being in the public eye, so to speak
—may rarely ignore them. So you.
too, are from our city, Mrs. Whiting?"
Kazia admitted It
"Ah! I wish I had known last night
that you were here. The governor-
general—" The phrase rolled linger-
ingly on his lips. "The governor-gen-
eral gave a reception. You would
have been pleased, I am sure, to see
how our city, In my person, was hon-
"I'm very sure of It Please tell us
Quinby told them about It. with a
wealth of detail.
But under cover of his monologue
Quinby was shrewdly taking stock of
his hearers and their situation; he
had not missed that first moment of
betraying confUBlon. Suspicion, guided
by Instinct, settled Into conviction.
And the event matched Quinby'B
need. For In the very midday of hie
triumph, when the brilliancy and dar-
ing of his achievements promised to
eclipse his better fortified but less
original rival in beneficence, a cloud
no bigger than a man's hand had crept
above the horizon. And If that cloud
grew bigger, not MacGregor but
Quinby himself might be eclipsed—
and, alaB! forever. A crisis, then,
when "harmony" more than ever was
needed In his forces. There are, Quinby
gratefully thought, more ways than
one of Insuring harmony. He felt of
his whip and got ready to crack It
During a temporary lull Kazia.
pleading some unfinished packing,
made her escape. Quinby's eye fol-
lowed her admiringly to the door, then
bent upon Mark a look In which re
proof and a certain ponderous wag-
glshness struggled for the upper hand.
"Ah! Trultt! A sad dog, I fear."
"Not at all." said Mark coldly.
Quinby was blandly skeptical. "I
find you, brown as an Indian, at break-
fast alone at a hotel with a woman
side of the library section.
"Truitt tells me, Mrs. Whiting, that
you are a nurse. A beautiful calling!
A fitting sphere for woman—woman,
tender minister to suffering!" -
"And It pays," Kazia smiled, "better
than most woman's work."
"But not enough. Have you ever
noticed that the most Important serv-
ices are always the poorest paid. I
have often wished," Quinby sighed,
'that it lay in my power to give every
deserving man and woman the Just
reward earned by their service."
"Ah!" breathed Kazia, "that would
be something to do."
Quinby bent a benignant smile on
Kazia, 'Mrs. Whiting, you must leave
me an address. As it happens, I am
a trustee, and It may be, an influence
in the Todd hospital. Surely the pro-
fession* of healing offers a woman a
larger—and a better paid—field than
mere Individual nursing?"
"To those who are fitted."
"You are modest of course. But I
am sure I have not judged you too
He led Kazia to a big cushioned
chair at the observation end of the
car, had the Jap bring magazines and
the latest novel.
She lay back in the chair, smiling
her thanks up to him, as frankly aa
if she had not a suspected secret to
brazen out. The philanthropist smiled
back—and the light In his eyes, as
they swept the figure beneath them,
was not philanthropy.
His smile became quizzical. He
leaned over and patted her hand. "You
are a plucky woman, my dear. I have
a short memory—sometimes."
He went back to Mark.
" Truitt," he began, "does your re-
covered health mean that you are go-
ing back into harnesB?"
I don t know," Mark answered
shortly. He had witnessed the tableau
"You must get back. You are needed.
Have you kept track of our labor sit-
Quinby sketched that situation, with
a terseness of which Mark had not
believed him capable.
(TO BE CONTINUED.)
Pipe Worth Half Million Dollars.
Among the royal treasures of Per-
sia Is a pipe set with diamonds, ra-
bies and emeralds, to the value. It Is
estimated, of no less than $500,000.
This pipe was made for the late shah,
and It Is said to be even more val-
uable than his famous sword In tho
matter of swords. It Is said that the
gaekwar of Barodn who, on the occa-
sion of the coronation of Oeorgs V In
India, added to his fame by snubbing
that monarch, possesses the most pre-
cious blade In existence. Its hilt and
belt are Incrusted with diamonds, ru-
j..-!... _ _ , « iuvi uoii 11 Willi UlUUIUUUS. rli
_«•« r T Il^lan m l<Jen. The party bles, sapphires and emeralds, and It
as a party of two, TrulitT" j value bos been out at ll.OOO.OUU.
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Tryon, W. M. The New Era. (Davenport, Okla.), Vol. 6, No. 38, Ed. 1 Thursday, October 29, 1914, newspaper, October 29, 1914; Davenport, Oklahoma. (gateway.okhistory.org/ark:/67531/metadc109967/m1/2/: accessed February 22, 2019), The Gateway to Oklahoma History, gateway.okhistory.org; crediting Oklahoma Historical Society.