The Daily Transcript (Norman, Okla.), Vol. 3, No. 147, Ed. 1 Sunday, January 2, 1916 Page: 2 of 4
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NORMAN DAILY TRANSCRIPT
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synopsis.
—6—
Confederate Sergeant Wyatt of the
Staunton artillery la sent as a upy to hU
native county on the Green Briar by Uen-
f - Ja' kHon. Wyatt meets a mountaineer
nsiticd Jem Taylor. They ride together to
• House beyond Hot 8prlngH In th«' house
an(* Taylor meet Major llarwood.
rather of Noreen and an old neighbor of
yatt, who Is sent to bed while the two
~iner men talk. Wyatt becomes Huspl-
£ious. ami finds that Taylor has murdered
llY"!?0**"* e"t>MP*d. VV'yatt changes to
U ..8_^avalr>' "nlform he has with
fUS* j r,(iea "way In the night, running'
J?i * J^^chment of Federal cavalry, to
wnom he Identifies himself sh Lieutenant
itaymond, Third II. H. cavalry, by means
of papers with which he haw been pro-
-.!« 1 <-'HPtaln Fox finds Harwood's body
fin fol,2,WH Taylor's trail. Fox and Wyatt
relieve Taylor to be old Ned ('••wan, The
£ 'a ambushed Wyatt « n<ap<"«
fo tne Green Krlar country and goes to
Ui!IWO<,u 8 apparently deserted home
nnds Noreen llarwood alone.
"J)®, "oe« not recognize him. and lie In-
troduces himself as lieutenant Itaymond
CHAPTER VII—Continued.
My lips were dry, but I nodded, half
/earful I might be slipping Into some
trap, although her words and manner
were surely Innocent enough.
"We were acquaintances, not
friends," I replied, hoping the retort
wight cause her to change the subject.
Most of the boys seemed to like
■blin. He was very pleasant to me, and
I had a splendid time. I met one
cadet named Raymond, he had dark
taalr and eyes."
Oh, yes," I managed to answer,
now desperately alert. "There was
another in the class—James K., I be-
lieve."
"1 did not learn his first name, but
when I heard that a Lieutenant Ray-
mond was coming here, I hoped It
might be he. That was why I was so
deeply interested. It Is not such a
common name, you Itnow."
I made some answer, and she sat
there silently, her face turned now to-
ward the lire in the grate. The profile
iield ine in fascination, as I wondered
what these seemingly Innocent ques-
tions could signify. Anyhow, let the
truth be what It may, there wan no
other course left for me, but to keep
on with the deception. I was in the
heart of the enemy's country, in dis-
guise, my life forfeit in case of discov-
ery, and the time had not come when
I could entrust her with so dangerous
a secret.
The wind rattled the blinds, and the
rain beat heavily against the Bide of
the house. The thought of venturing
out Into the storm, not knowing where
I could seek Bhelter, was not an allur-
ing one. Nor had I any excuse to urge
(or immediate departure; Indeed as a
gentleman and soldier my duty called
me to remain for her protection. She
could not be left alone In this deso-
late house. It was my steady gaze
that roused the lady from whatever
dream the fiamos of the grate had
given her. She turned her head to
meet my eyes—then sat suddenly
erect, the expression of her face in-
stantly changing, as she stared be-
yond me at the open door. 1 wheeled
about to look, startled at the move-
ment. A man stood In the doorway,
water streaming from IiIb clothes on to
the floor. I was on my feet Instantly,
a hand gripping my revolver, but be-
fore I could whip it from the leather
sheave, the girl had taken the single
step forward, and grasped my sleeve.
"Do not fire!" she exclaimed. "He
Is not a lighting man."
The fellow lifted one arm, ai d
stepped forward full Into the light. H
was a man of years, unarmed, a m1,
ungainly figure, a scraggly beard at
his chin, and a face ilke parchn m
His eyes were two deep wells, so: ju
and unwinking.
"Peace to you both!" he said grave-
ly. "I ask naught save fire and shel-
ter."
"To these you are welcome," the girl
janswerod, still clinging to my arm.
"You, travel alone?"
"Even as my master in rags and pov-
erty, having do place wherein to lay
my head. The foxes have holes, the
birds of the air have nests—you know
me, young woman?"
"Yes; you are Parson Nichols."
"An unworthy soldier of the cross. I
address the daughter of Major llar-
wood—and this young man?"
"Lieutenant Raymond of the Federal
army," she explained simply. "He
sought refuge here from the storm."
The man's eyes searched my face,
but without cordiality, without expres-
sion of any kind. Saying nothing he
crossed to the fireplace, and held out
his hands to the warmth of the blaze.
The girl's eyes met mine almost quea-
tioningly. Then she stepped forward.
"We were just completing our meal,"
she said softly. "There is not much,
but we will gladly share what we
nave."
"The flesh needeth nothing," he an-
swered, not even looking around, "and
the spirit liveth on the bread of life. I
seek only converse with you The
young man Is an officer?"
"Have you ridden far?"
"From Lewlsburg."
"Lewlsburg!" In surprise. "Then
you knew I was here? You came seek-
ing me?"
He turned on his stool, his eyes
searching her face gravely.
"On a mission of ministry," be re-
plied solemnly, "although whether It
prove of joy, or sorrow, 1 am unable
to Bay. 1 am but an Instrument."
The man's reluctance to speak free-
ly was apparent, and I stepped for-
ward.
"If you prefer conversing with Miss
Harwood alone," I said quietly, "I will
retire."
"The worda I would speak are In-
deed of a confidential nature—"
"No, no!" she broke In Impulsively,
her eyes of appeal turned toward me.
"Do not leave us, lieutenant. This man
has nothing to say I am afraid to have
you hear. He has not come here as a
friend; there is some evil purpose In
all tills, which I cannot fathom." She
faced him now, her slender body
poised, her eyes on his. "Tell me what
It la—this mysterious mission? Ay!
and who sent you to find me? I will
not believe it was my father."
The minister rose to his feet, a tall,
ungainly figure, hlB solemn face as ex-
pressionless as before, but a smolder-
ing resentment was in his deep-set
eyes. He possessed the look of a
fanatic, one who would hesitate at
nothing to gain his end. To me he
was even repulsive in his narrow
bigotry.
"No, It was uot your father," he said
almost coarsely, "but It Is a part of my
mission to bring to you, young woman,
the news of your father's death.'
"Death? My father dead?" she
stepped back from him, her hands
pressed against her eyes. Obeying the
first instinct of protection, I stepped
to support her as she seemed about to
fall. "That cannot be! You lie! I
know you lie! You were never his
friend. You come here to tell me that
to frighten me; to compel me to do
something wrong.)"
The man exhibited no trace of emo-
tion, no evidence of regret, his voice
the same hard, metallic sound.
"I expected this outburst," he con-
tinued unmoved. "Indeed, It Is no
more than natural. But I harbor no
resentment, and in this hour freely for-
give all. 'He that taketh the sword,
shall perish by the sword,' and my
words are true."
"But I saw him four days ago "
"On his way east to Hot Springs,
with an escort of soldiers. It was
there he was killed, together with his
servant. A
news."
"A soldier?
men ?"
A sardonic smile flickered an in-
stant on the preacher's thin lips.
"No, but equally reliable; one of
Ned Cowan's mountaineers. Captain
Fox is a prisoner, wounded, and his
men mostly dead."
A moment she rested unknowingly
against my arm, Iter face covered with
her hands. There was that In the
man's words and manner which con-
vinced her that he spoke the truth.
The fa'-e she finally lifted was white
and drawn. The girl had changed to
a woniiin. She stood erect, alone, one
ha d i rasping the back of a chair.
V, say my father is dead—killed."
In said, In steady, clear voice. "But
;..t t! At one or the other, you never
< ne here tonight, through this storm,
l,i ing me such a message alone.
Wt, ;iit you, Parson Nichols? What
'eiiitry is on foot?"
"My dear young lady," he began
smoothly, spreading his hands depre-
catingly. "Be charitable, and just. I
realize that In the first shock of thus
suddenly learning of your father's de-
mise, you naturally speak harshly.
With me the past is forgotten, blotted
out. covered with the mantle of Chris-
tian charity. I felt it my duty to break
to you this sad news in all possible
tenderness."
"And you had no other object?"
"Certainly not; what other could 1
possibly have had?"
The man lied, and I knew it; the
suave, soft tones of his voice Irritated
mo. The girl stood motionless, silent,
her breath coming in sobs. ' Then she
turned her head slightly, and her eyes
met mine. The piteous appeal in their
depths was all I needed. With a grim
feeling of dellpht, I took a step for-
ward, and the muzzle of ray revolver
touched his breast.
"Now, Mister Preachernian," I said
shortly, "we'll have done with this
play-acting. Not a move!"
CHAPTER VIII.
Now answer me—who told you ol
Major Harwood's death?"
"I have Bald already; the message
was brought to Lewlsburg by one of
Ned Cowan's men."
"Yes. so you did; but you never re-
ceived It at Lewlsburg. Oh, yeg. I
know something myself. The fact Is
you never came here tonight from
Lewisburg. Now are you ready to talk
to me? Oh! you are! Very well, who
sent you—Cowan?"
I ran my gun muzzle hard Into his
ribs, and he nodded sullenly, Ills Hps
drawn back in a snarl. All" the soft
palaver had vanished, and he had be-
come a cowed brute.
"1 thought so; you belong yourself
to the Cowan gang?"
"Not—not In their deeds of blood
and violence," he protested. "The
calls of my church compel me to mln
later to my scattered flock—"
"Never mind that kind of palaver,
Nichols. Now what did he send you
for?"
I waited, my eyes on his. I could
not see the girl, and dare not avert
my gnze for so much as an Instant.
The man wet his lips, as if they were
parched, and I could perceive the nerv-
ous movement of Ills throat.
"I—I don't know."
"Don't know what?—this is my last
call!"
"1 don't know whether he is coming,
or not." lie blurted out reluctantly.
"He was hurt In the fight."
"And If he cannot come hlinBelf he
means to send others. What for?
What does he want of the girl?"
My hammer clicked, and the man
cringing back, read the stern mean-
ing of my face. A terrible suspicion
surged over me, and I was ready to
kill. He knew his life hung by a hair.
"To—to marry her," the words bare-
ly audible. "Not old Ned—his son,
Anse."
I henrd the startled exclamation of
the girl behind me.
"Anse Cowan!" she cried, her voice
full of undisguised horror. "Marry me
to that low brute. Did he ever imagine
I would consent, ever even look at
him?"
I touched her with my hand In re-
straint, the revolver still at the preach-
er's heart. The whole foul plot lay
exposed in my mind.
"There was no intention of asking
your consent. Miss Harwood," 1 said,
satisfied that she should know all, and
face the truth. "There Is a reason for
this desperate act which I do not
wholly fathom, but It has to do with
the property here, and the feud be-
tween Cowan and your father. If
Major Harwood be dead, as this man
reports, you are the sole heir, and old
Ned has conceived the idea of marry-
ing you by force to his son. He has
messenger brought the
One of Captain Fox's
"Yes—on recruiting service."
"You know him well? Vou trust
him?"
"I—I have not known hlm long." Bhe
replied hesitatingly, and glancing back
at me. "Yet 1 have confidence In him."
The man did not answer, or move
and, after i moment of silence, ahe
asked:
I,
The Jaws of the Trap.
If eyeB alone possessed the power to
| kill, his would have done the deed, but
j the face with which I confronted him
I was sufficiently grim to make him real-
j ize the danger of a movement. He
) gave back a step, but my revolver
pressed his side.
"Don't try anything with me, Nich-
ols," 1 said sternly, "you are either go-
ing to talk, or die. I'll give you one
chance, and one only. I despise your
kind, and will kill you with nlpnaure.
The Muzzle of My Revolver Touched
His Chest.
learned you are here alone, and unpro-
tected, and In this creature of his—
this canting preacher—he has found a
fit tool ready at hand to do his dirty
work. Is that It. Nichols?"
He muttered something inaudible.
"Answer, you black-hearted cur; you
have confessed too much to hide any-
thing now. How many are coming
with , nse Cowan?"
"Maybe a half dozen of the boys. I
don't know; they were talking about
it when I left, and thought it was go-
ing to be a great lark."
"Well, it is; you are finding that out
already. When were they to be here?"
1 shook him to loosen his lagging
tongue.
"They were to ride out an hour after
I did."
I threw the wretch back into the
chair before the fire, but held him still
cowering before the point of my re-
volver. The dog had told us all h<>
knew, and there was a snarl to his
tbin lips, drawn back and exposing his
yellow teeth, showing that his only
thought now was revenge. Any mo-
ment that gang of ruffians might ap-
pear, and I was helpless there alone to
contend against them. I dared not
move, dared not avert my gaze from
the preacher; there was hatred and
treachery in the depths of his eyes.
"Is there a lock on the parlor door
leading into the hall?" I asked.
"A bolt—yes."
"Please close and bolt it, and then
come back here."
I heard her turn and cross the room;
caught the sound as she shot the bolt,
and her light step again on the floor
"Now, something to tie this man
with. We must be quick—the table-
cloth will do! Sweep that clutter of
dishes on to the floor. Good! Now
cut me the cord from that picture."
I had no thought of glancing about:
I can scarcely conceive even now that
1 did, yet my eyes must have wan
dered an InBtant, for Nichols had the
wrist of my pistol hand in his grip,
and the revolver went spinning across
the floor. There was a moment of
fierce, breathless struggle. The fellow
possessed no skill, but the wiry
strength of a tiger. I found his eyes
with my fist, and dazed, his hands re-
leased their grip, and I broke loose,
my throat livid from his finger marks
The flap of a gray skirt touched my
face, and a blow fell—the man went
limp under me, hie head upheld by the
angle of the wall. 1 struggled to my
knees, still staring at him, uncertain
as to what had actually occurred,
struggling for breath. The girl stood
over me, white-faced, her eyes wide
open with horror, the remnant of the
teapot In her hand. Suddenly her
hands covered her eyes, the fragment
of crockery falling noisily to the floor.
"I—I struck him," she Bobbed, un
nerved. "I—I have killed him!"
"No such good luck," I answered
recovering myself, and grasping her
hands so that I could look into her
eyes. "The man is not dead—only
stunned by the blow. He will be con
scious in a minute. Do not become
frightened; you did right, and we have
no time to lose. You have a horse
somewhere?"
She hesitated, her liandB still held
in mine unconsciously.
"You—you mean I am to ride for
Lewisburg—and—and you?"
"Oh, 1 must do the best I can on
foot. We'll keep together as long as
possible. Go, and hurry. Get a wrap,
and your revolver."
She slipped out of the room, and up
the stairs, her light steps making no
sound on the soft carpet. I bent over
Nichols, and as 1 touched him be
stirred, and opened his eyes, staring
up into my face
"Don't hit me!" he whined. "I'm no
friend of Anse Cowan."
"So you've had enough! Then take
orders from me."
I gathered in the picture cord the
girl had dropped on the floor. His
wrists were big and knotted, and 1
drew the cord tight enough to make
the fellow wince, despite his groans
and pretense at severe suffering
"Go up the stairs," I commanded
sternly, "and keep close to the wall.
Oh. you can walk all right, my friend,
and I advise you to do as I say—you
see this gun?"
The scowl on his face was malignant,
and his eyes glowed like coals, but he
moved on ahead of me across the hall,
and up the carpeted steps. The lamp
held high above my head in one hand,
sent a stream of light through the
black shadows, and revealed his every
movement. At the head of the stairs
the girl suddenly appeared, her face
showing white in the glow of the lamp.
A brown cape, fastened closely at the
throat, enveloped her figure, and a cap
was drawn down over her hair.
"What is it?" she questioned swiftly.
"Is there any room up here window-
less, and with a door that can be
locked?"
She glanced about, uncertain.
"Why—oh, yes! there is a large
closet off my room."
"Turn to the right, Nichols: into
that room, where the light is burning
Oh, yes, you will! Kindly open the
closet door, Miss Harwood. Don't
stand growling there. Get in, I say!"
(TO BE CONTINUED.*
INDIANS IN UNITED STATES
How the Red Man Is "Turning Defeat
Into Triumph"—Increasing Attend-
ance Shown at Schools,
No longer can it be said that the
only good Indian Is a dead Indian.
That statement, born of ignorance of
the real character of the Indian, is
now definitely eliminated from the list
of epigrams by a report of the census
bureau on the present Indian popula-
tion in the United States.
While the report shows a much low-
er rate of growth for the Indian popu-
lation Ulan for the white, an increas-
ing mixture of white blood, and de-
creasing vitality of full-blood Indians,
indicating a tendency to disappear al-
together, it also shows Increasing at-
tendance at Rchool and decreasing il-
literacy, an increase In the percent-
age of the self-supporting and a de-
crease In the number of reservation
Indians.
While the report shows that there
were 265,683 Indians in the United
States, exclusive of Alaska, In 1910.
an Increase of 17,430, or 7 per cent
over the number reported in 1890,
there are about 300,000 Indians in this
country at the present time. Among
them are to be found manufacturers,
bankers, United States officials, me-
chanical engineers, locomotive engi-
neers, telegraph operators, actors,
artists, clergymen, college professors,
physicians, surgeons and lawyers. The
Indian has turned defeat into triumph.
He has played the game according to I
the rules laid down by civilization |
and has won.
Old Santa's
Christmas List
Bt De LYSLE FERREE CASS
HUNTINGJISTLEl
Christy • Greens Harvd
[Vith Aid of Guns.
rha reindeer are harnessed and ready
For their Christmas eve drive through
the sky;
They whinny and stamp; sleigh bells
Jingle,
And old Santa Claus' sledge Is piled
high
With an abundance of toys, books and
goodies
For all gr.od little boys and girls;
Banta'U flU up the stockings while the
clock Is tlck-tocklng.
And the snow flakes drift down In
whirls.
He'll elide down the chimney as usual—
Fat, Jolly, red-faced, full of glee-
He's been keeping tab on each one of you;
In the picture he's looking to see
Which kiddles have minded their parents,
Which youngsters have done as they
ought;
If you have been good and done as you
should,
Old Santa'U bring you a lot.
See He's looking his list of namee over,
ves, and scratching the naughty ones
out;
it Freddie had minded his mamma
Today he'd never need doubt
That Santa would fill up his stocking;
And if Malzle hadn't been bad.
X*hat yellow-haired dollie that's going to
Molly
Is one present she might have had
For Molly behaved herself nicely,
Bhe doesn't grumble, tell fibs or be
mean;
Bo her papa has written to Santa
Telling what a good girl she's been.
Then there's Tommy's name on the pa-
per:
A real boy, but never sauces nor swears,
Nor is cruel to kittles. It's a thousand
pities
That Freddie's mother had as few cares.
Now there's the names of Mildred and
Jessie,
Of Margaret, Julia and Kate—
When they go out to play and hear moth-
er say,
"Home early," they never are late.
Next comes Bobble, that Jolly young ras-
cal!
And Henry—the boys call him "Hen!"—
There's a red sled for Bob, and for
Henry a job
Playing war with his tin soldier men.
Dirk will wake up to find a new tool set;
Phil will net those shining new skates;
Joe's football outfit sure will please hlrn<:
He can now go and play with his mates.
Bert likes story books and he'll get some;
A hobby horse Harry will please;
Yes, each little tike will get what he
likes—
Their good traits old Santa Claus sees.
As he cons the long list o'er and o'er,
Ix)ok! he's smiling to think of the Joy,
That when Christmas bells ring, each
holiday thing
Will bring to each good girl and boy.
Remember, you little folks, always,
That obedience, kindness, good cheer
Are the things mamma wants and are
sure to ena^once
Tou In Santa Claus' favor. Oh, hear
How the sleighbells are Jingling and tin-
kling.
How the reindeer are prancing to go
Skimming along o'er the housetops.
Unmindful of cold. Ice or snow.
Santa's pack is crammed to o'erflowinfr;
Is your name on his visiting list?
Now In bed abide; down the chimney hell
■Ude.
If you're good, your house won't be
missed.
On Walking Alone.
>Jow, to be properly enjoyed, a walk-
ing tour should he gone upon alone.
. . . You must be open to all im
prrssions and let your thoughts take
color from what you see You should
he as a pipe for any wind to play upon
"f cannot see the wit," says Hazlitt,
"of walking and talking at the same
time. Whon I am in the country I
wish to vegetate like the country"—
which is the gist of all that can be
said upon the matter. There should
be no cackle of voices at your elbow
to jar on the meditative silence of the
morning.—R. L. Stevenson
Fierci Mexican Antg.
There are ants in Mexico colonies
of which will attack a h;v« of bees
and destroy it in a uigln.
Prepared.
"I'm going to have a fine time at
Christmas," said one young miss to
another. "Mr. Huggins is coming to
our party, and he is color-blind, you
know."
"Does his color-blindness add to
your enjoyment?" asked her friend.
"Rather!" was the reply. "He
thinks all the holly-berries are mistle-
toe!"
uk'
r
t f*
But It la Better to Climb for It aa
Seeker* Have Learned—Open
Season Begins Early in
December.
HE hunter took deliberate
aim and fired Into the high-
er branches of a swamp elm.
Only a bunch of foliage, cut
from Its supporting bough
by the charge of bird shot, fell a yard
or bo away.
"Missed him?" was the half queried
comment of a "tenderfoot" who had
strained his eyes In vain to see the
object of the shot.
"Missed nothing," came the rejoin
der.
"Shootln' greens," he added by wa^
of explanation. He picked up the
clump of leaves flecked with waxenl
berries and threw into a gunny sack!
three or four pounds o* mistletoe, the
reward of his marksmanship.
The open season for mistletoe be-
gins early in Decembor, according to
the Kansas City Star, and continues
until only a day or so before Christ-"'
mas, or, in the lean years, until the
crop Is exhausted. The old method of
"shooting" mistletoe has been in large
part displaced, however, by agile boys
who earn men's wages by climbing for
the crop and carrying It to the ground
in sacks slung from their shoulders.
That preserves the foliage beauty by
leaving the berries Intact. When the
boughs are "harvested" by the shot-
gun method the charge Jars many of
the globules from their tiny stems and
the fall to earth but add* to the havoc.
Mlitletoe Jobbers are growing more
discriminating and pay top prices for
well-preserved greens only, the market
varying day by day according to the
quantity offered.
The true mistletoe la a European
evergreen, but Its American cousin
resembles It so closely as to baffle all
but botanists. The leaves are of the
same yellowish green and the blos-
soms, alike In color, give way In turn
to the wax-like berries. Both are
parasites, growing on the boughs of
deciduous trees.
Apple trees, poplars, maples and
elms seem to best support the vege-
table barnacle. But It sometimes Is
found growing in the oaks and other
forest varieties. Along the Pacific
coast It frequently Is taken from oak
trees, although the yield In that re-
gion Is not prolific.
The mistletoe played a conspicuous
part in mythology. It Is symbolical of
the spear with which Hotherus took
the life of Balder, the white sungod
of summer, who shall be resurrected
at Raganarok, twilight of the gods
and doomsday of the world, so runs
the old Norse legend.
Among the Druids and the Celts the
mistletoe found growing upon an oak
was believed to possess powers ol
healing for many Ills as well as being
potent for the working of magic
charms. Small bits of berries were
brewed Into love philters for prejudic-
ing the passions.
To the esteem in which the mlstle
toe was held Is directly traceable a
certain old English custom which sur
vives today. At the Christmas tide
every ardent swain who 'neath Its
shadow levies tribute of a kiss and
each half-resisting maid who pays,
may know their hearts only bow to
rites centuries old and born when
Yule logs flickered through candle
lighted halls on wintry nights; when
fairies ruled; when imagery held
sway; when mountain gods gave curse
or blessing and tribute to the mistle-
toe was a sacrament.
Had One Already.
"I don't know what to give Luzle
for a Christmas present," one chorus
girl is reported to have said to her
mate, while discussing the gift to be
made to a third.
"Give her a book," suggested the
other.
And the first one replied, meditative-
ly; ' No, that won't do; she's got a
book."
THOUGHTS OF CHRISTMAS.
They were married at the beginning
of December, and the 25th was ap-
proaching.
"You know, little wife," he said one
evening, "we mustn't have any secrets
from each other, must we, sweet one?"
"No darling," she whispered.
"So," he continued, "I want you to
tell me how much you Intend spend-
ing on a Christmas present for me,
so that I can calculate how much
money I shall have left to buy one for
you."
Crovkned on Christmas.
William the Conqueror was crooned
on a Christmas day.
One Popular Fat Man.
It Is said that nobody loves a fat
maa, but children at this time ot the
year are deeply In love with a stout,
elderly person with white whisker*
and a pack on his back.
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Reference the current page of this Newspaper.
Burke, J. J. The Daily Transcript (Norman, Okla.), Vol. 3, No. 147, Ed. 1 Sunday, January 2, 1916, newspaper, January 2, 1916; (https://gateway.okhistory.org/ark:/67531/metadc113121/m1/2/: accessed March 18, 2024), The Gateway to Oklahoma History, https://gateway.okhistory.org; crediting Oklahoma Historical Society.