The Norman Democrat--Topic (Norman, Okla.), Vol. 28, No. 14, Ed. 1 Friday, March 23, 1917 Page: 2 of 8
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PAGE SIX
THE DEMOCRAT-TOPIC. FRIDAY, MARCH 23, 1917.
slowly and met his eyes. Tf seemed to
| K. liiat she looked at him :im If she had
J never really seen 111 in before, and lie
was right. Readjustment* are always
• difficult.
Sidney was trying to reconcile the K.
i she had known so well with this new
K., no longer obscure, although still
' shabby, whose bright bad suddenly he*
come presence, whose quiet was the
<iui«*t of Infinite power.
She was suddenly shy of him. as he
stood lookiug down at her. He saw
the gleam of her engagement ring on
her finger. It seemed almost defiant.
As though she had meant by wearing
it to emphasize her belief in her lover.
They did not speak beyond their
greeting, until he had gone over the
i record. Then: "We can't talk here.
I I want to talk to you, Iv."
He led the way Into the corridor. It
Do you have to wulk as fast j Vt ry diui. Far away was the night j
I nurse's desk, with its lamp, its annuncl-
"I said I was in a htfrry. Once fi jitor, its pile of records. The passage
week I get off a little early to go to „oor rt.|i,.cted the light on glistening
the hospital. The llosenfeld .boy—" ! hoards.
"1 have been thinking until I ain ul
Mary Roberts Rinehart
ICupyritfhl. by McLiuru Publications, lac.)
CHAPTER XXIII—Continued.
—16—
this?"
The llosenfeld .boy—"
The moustrous injustice of the thing
overcame her. Palmer and she walk- most crazy K. And now I know how
ing about, and the boy lying on his hot ' jt happened. It was Joe.'
bed ! She choked.
"Well?'*
"He worries about his mother. If
you could give her some money, it
would help."
"Money ! I paid his hoard for two
niuiitlis in the hospital."
When she did acknowledge this gen-
erosity—amounting to forty-eight dol-
lars—his irritation grew. Her silence
wiis an accusation. She was too calm
"The principal thing is, not how it
happened, but thai In* Is going to get
well, Sidney."
She stood looking down, twisting her
ring around her finger.
"Is Joe lu any danger?"
"We are going to get him nwny to-
night. He wants to go to Cuba. He'll
get off safely. I think."
"We are going to get him nwny!
You are, you mean. You shoulder all
in his presence, too cold. Where It our troubles, K., as If they were your
had pleased his pride to think that he own."
had given her up. ho found that the
shoe was on the other foot.
At tin' entrance to u side street she
■topped.
"I turn olT here."
"May I come and see you sometime?"
"No, please."
"Thut's fiat, Is it?"
"It is, Palmer."
"I?" He was genuinely surprised.
"Oh, I see. You mean—but my part in
getting Joe ofT Is practically nothing.
As a matter of fact, Sehwitter has put
up the money. My total capital In the
world, after paying for the machine
today. Is seven dollars."
"You. of course." said she. "You
find Max and save him—don't look like
He swung around savagely and left t hut! You did, didn't you? And you
|.get Joe away, borrow ing money to send
her.
The next day he drew over a thou- j 1dm."
sand dollars from the bank. A good n«' looked uncomfortable, almost
many of his debts he wanted to pay pt'iIt.v.
In cash; there was no use putting
checks through, with Incriminating In-
dorsements. Also, he liked the idea
of carrying a roll of money around.
The big fellows at the clubs always
bad a wad and peeled off bills like skin
off an onion. He took a couple of
drinks to celebrate his approaching
immunity from debt. . . .
At nine o'clock that night he found
Grace. She had moved to a cheap
apartment which she shared with two
other girls from the store. The others
were out. it was his lucky day, surely.
His drunkenness was of the mind,
mostly. Ills muscles were well con-
trolled. The lines from his nose to the
corners of his mouth were slightly ac-
centuated. his eyes open a trifle wider
than usual. That and a slight pale-
ness of the nostrils were the only evi-
dences of his condition. Hut Grace
Ynew the signs.
"You cau't come in."
"Of course I'm coming in."
She retreated before him, her eyes
watchful. Men in his condition were
apt to be as quick with a blow as with
a caress. But. having gained his point,
he was amiable.
"Get your things on and come out.
We can take in a roof-garden."
"I've told you I'm not doing that sort
of thing."
He was less steady than he had been.
The heat of the little Hat brought more
blood to his head. He wavered as he
stood Just inside the door.
"You must go back to your wife."
"She doesn't want ine. She's In love
with a fellow at the house."
"Palmer, hush!"
"I only want to take you out for a
good time. I've got money. Look
here!"
He drew out a roll of hills and
showed It to her. Iler eyes opened
wide. She had never known him to
have much money.
"Lots more where that comes from."
A new look Hashed into her eyes, not
cupidity, but purpose.
She was instantly cunning.
"Aren't you going to give me some of
that?"
"What for?"
"I want it for Johnny llosenfeld.*'
He thrust It back Into his pocket, but
Ins hand retained its grasp of it.
•That's It." he complained. "Don't
lemme l «« happy for a minute! Throw
It all up to me!"
"You give me hat for the llosenfeld
boy, and I'll go out with you."
"If I give you all that. 1 won't have
any money to go out with!"
Hut his eyes were wavering. She
could see victory.
"Take off enough for tlie evening."
Rut he drew himself up.
"It's my lucky day," he said thickly.
"Plenty more where this came from.
I)o anything for you. Give it to the lit-
tle devil. I—" He yawned.
When I look back and remember
how all these months I've been talk-
ing about service, and you said noth-
ing at all, and all the time you were
living what I preached—I'm so
ashamed, K."
He would not allow that. It dis-
tressed him. She saw that, and tried
to smile.
"When does Joe go?"
"Tonight. I'm to take him across the
country to the railroad. I was won-
dering—"
"Yes?"
"I'd better explain first. Then If you
are willing to send him a line, 1 think
it would help. He saw a girl in white
In the car and thought It was you, of
course. Carlotta was taken ill. And
Sehwitter and—and Wilson took her
upstairs to a room."
"Do you believe that, K.?"
"I do. He saw Max coming out and
misunderstood. He fired at him then."
"He did it for me. I feel very guilty,
K., as if It all comes back to me, I'll
write to himvof course. Pover Joe!"
He watched her go do r- ib^.lall to-
ward the night nurse's desk. Then he
went back Into the quiet room.
lie stood by the bedside, looking
down. Wilson was breathing quietly;
ills color was coming up, as he rallied
from the shock. In K.'s mind now was
just one thought—to bring him through
Plenty More Where This Came From."
His head dropped . uck on his chair; for Sidney, and then to go away. He
he propped his sagging legs on a stool. I might follow Joe to Cuba. There were
She knew him— knew that he would chunccs there. He could do sanitation
sleep almost all night. She would have j work, or he might try the canal,
tc make up something to tell the other . The Street would go on working out
girls Inn no matter she could atteud its own salvation, lie would have to
to that later. 1 think of something for the llosenfclds.
She paused, in pinning on her hat
to count the bills. She had never had
a thousand dollars in her hands before.
CHAPTER XXIV.
K. spent all of the evening of that
day with Wilson. He was not to go for
Joe until eleven o'ch« k. The injured
man's vitality was standing him in
good stead. He had asked for Sidney
and she was at his bedside. Doctor Ed
had gone.
K. found Sidney In the room, not sit-
ting, but standing by the window. The
sick man was dozing. One shaded light
burned in a far corner. She turned
And he was worried about Christine.
But there again, perhaps, it would lie
better if he went away. Christine's
story would have to work itself out.
His hands were tied. "I'd better get
away from here," he told himself sav-
agely.
Someone entered the room. He
thought It was Sidney and turned with
the light in his eyes that was only for
her. It was Carlotta.
She was not in uniform. She wore ii
dark skirt and white waist and her
high heels tapped as she crossed the
room. She came directly to him.
"He is better, isn't he?"
"He Is rallying. Of course it will be
a dny or two before we are quite sure."
She stood looking down ut Wilson's
quiet figure.
"I guess you know I've been eraz.v
! nbou*. him." she said quietly. "Well,
that's all over. He never really cared
for me. 1 played his game and I—lost.
| I've been expelled from the school."
Quite suddenly she dropped on her
knees beside the bed, and put her
eheek close to the sleeping man's hand.
When after a moment she rose, she
was controlled again, calm, very white.
She turned toward the door. Hut K.
could not let her go like that. Her
face frightened him. It was too calm,
too controlled. He followed her across
the room.
"What are your plans?"
"1 haven't any. I'm nbout through
with my traiiiiug, but I've lost my
diploma."
"I don't like to see you going away
like this."
She avoided his eyes, but his kindly
tone did what neither the Head nor the
executive committee had done that
day. It shook her control.
"What does it matter to you? You
don't owe me anything."
"Perhaps not. One way and another
I've known you a long time."
• "You never knew unythlng very
good."
"I'll tell you where I live, and—"
"I know where you live."
"Will you come to see me there? We
may be able to think of something."
"What Is there to think of? This
story will follow me wherever I go!
I've tried twice for a diploma and
failed. What's the use?"
But in the end he prevailed on her to
promise not to leave the city until she
had seen him again. It was not until
she had gone, a straight figure with
haunted eyes, that lie reflected whim-
sically that once again he had defeated
his own plans for (tight.
Sidney brought her letter to Joe back
to K. She was Hushed with the effort
and with a new excitement.
"The most remarkable thing has
happened. What a day this has been!
Somebody has sent Johnny llosenfeld a
lot of money. The ward nurse wants
you to come back."
The ward had settled for the night.
The well-ordered beds of the daytime
were chaotic now, torn apart by toss-
ing figures. The night was hot and an
electric fan hummed in a far corner.
Under its sporadic breezes, as it
turned, the ward was trying to sleep.
Johnny llosenfeld was not asleep.
An incredible thing had happened to
hi in. A fortune lay under his pillow,
lie was sure it was there, for ever
since it came his hot hand had clutched
it.
He was quite sure that somehow or
other K. had had a hand in it. When
he disclaimed it, the boy was bewil-
dered.
"It'll buy the old lady what she
wants for the house, anyhow," he said,
"liut I hope nobody's took up a collec-
tion for me. I don't want no churlty."
"Maybe Mr. Howe sent It."
"You can bet your last match he
didn't."
In some unknown way the news had
reached the ward that Johnny's friend,
Mr. Le Moyne, was a great surgeon.
Johnny had rejected It scornfully.
But the story had seized on his
imagination.
"Say, Mr. Le Moyne."
"Yes, Jack."
He called him "Jack." The boy liked
it. It savored of man to man. After
all, lie was a man, or almost. Hadn't
he driven a car? Didn't he have a
state license?
"They say that you're a surgeon;
that you operated on Doctor Wilson
and saved his life. They say that
you're the king pin where you came
from." He eyed K. wistfully. "I know
It's a lie, but If It's true— Don't you
think you could do something for me,
sir?"
When K. did not reply at once, he
launched into an explanation.
"I've been lying here a good while. I
didn't say much because I knew I'd
have to take a chance. Either I'd pull
through or I wouldn't, and the odds
were—well, I didn't say much. The
old lady's had a lot of trouble. But
now, with this under my pillow for her,
I ve got n right to ask. I'll take a
chance, if you will."
"It's only a chance. Jack."
"I know that. I5ut lie here and
watch these soaks off the street. Old,
a lot of them, and gettin' well to go
out and starve, and— Mr. Le Moyne,
they can walk, and I can't."
K. drew a long breath, lie had
started, and now he must go on. Faith
in himself or no faith, he must go on. j
Life, that had loosed its hold ou liim
for a time, had foun^hlm again.
"I'll go over you carefully tomorrow, |
Jack. I'll tell you your chances lion- !
estly."
"I have a thousand dollars. What-
ever you charge—"
"I'll take it out of my board bill in
the new house!"
At four o'clock that morning K. got 1
back from seeing Joe off. The trip
had been without accident.
Over Sidney's letter Joe had shed a
shamefaced tear or two. And during
the night ride, with K. pushing the car
to the utmost, he had felt that the
boy, in keeping his hand in his pocket,
had kept it on the letter. When the
road was smooth and stretched ahead,
a gray-white line iuto the night, he :
tried to talk a little courage into the
boy's sick heart.
"You'll see new people, new life," he
said. "In a month from now you'll
wonder why you ever liuug around the
Street. 1 have a feeling that you're
going to make good down there."
And once, when the time for parting
was very near—
"No matter what happens, keep on j
believing in yourself. I lost my faith '
in myself once. It w as pretty close to '
hell."
Joe's response showed his entire self*
engrossment.
"If he dies. I'm a murderer."
"He's not going to die," said K.
stoutly.
At four o'clock In the morning he
left the car ut the garage and walked
around to the little house. He hud
had no sleep for forty five hours; his
eyes were sunken in his head; the skin
over his temples looked drawn and
white. His clothes were wrinkled; the
soft hat he habitually wore was white
with the dust of the road.
As he opened the hall door, Christine
sirred in the room beyond. She came
out fully dressed.
"K.. are you sick?"
"Kather tired. Why in th* world
aren't you In bed?"
"Palmer lias Just come home in a
terrible rage. He says he's been robbed
of a thousand dollars."
"Where?"
Christine shrugged her shoulders.
"He doesn't know, or says he doesn't
STOP TO WATCH The Wake of a Torpedo
BAYONET DUEL
American Who Fought in France
Describes Ghastly Incident
of the War.
DUELISTS KILL EACH OTHER
"Poor Girl!" He Said. "Poor Chris-
tine!"
I'm glad of it. He seems thoroughly
frightened, it may be a lesson."
In the dim hall light he realized that
her face was strained and set. She
looked on the verge of hysteria.
"Poor little woman," he said. "I'm
sorry, Christine."
The tender words broke down the
last barrier of her self-control.
"Oh, K.! Take me away. Take me
away ! I can't stand it any longer."
She held her arms out to him, and
because he was very tired and lonely,
and because more than anything else
in the world just then he needed a
woman's arms, he drew her to him and
held her close, his cheek to her hair.
"Poor girl!" he said. "Poor Chris-
tine! Surely there must be some hap-
piness for us somewhere."
But the next moment he let her go
and stepped back.
"I'm sorry." Characteristically he
took the blaine. "I shouldn't have done
that— You know how It is with me."
"Will it always be Sidney?"
"I'm afraid it will always be Sidney."
CHAPTER XXV.
Johnny llosenfeld was dead. All of
K.'s skill had not sufficed to save him.
The operation had been a marvel, but
the boy's long-sapped strength failed
at the last. K., set of face, stayed with
him to the end. The boy did not know
he was going. He roused from the
coma and smiled up at Le Moyne.
"I've got a hunch that I can move
my right foot," he said. "Look and
see."
K. lifted the light covering.
"You're right, old man. It's moving."
"Brake foot, clutch foot," said Johnny,
and closed his eyes again. Iv. had for-
bidden the white screens, that outward
symbol of death. Time enough for
them later. So the ward had no sus-
picion, nor had the boy. The ward
passed in review. It was Sunday, and
from the (impel far below came the
faint singing of a hymn. When Johnny
spoke again he did not open his eyes.
"You're some operator, Mr. Le Moyne.
I'll put In a word for you whenever I
get u chance."
"Yes, put in a word for me," said K.
huskily.
He felt that Johnny would be a good
mediator—that whatever he, K., had
done of omission or commission,
Johnny's voice before the Tribunal
would count.
Johnny was close on the edge of his
long sleep by that time, and very com-
fortable. It was lv. who, seeing he
would no longer notice, ordered the
screens to be set around the bed, K.
who drew the coverings smooth and
folded the boy's bauds over his breast.
The nurse stood by uncertainly.
"How very young he is! Was it an
accident?"
"It was the result of a mail's damn-
able folly." said K. grimly. "Somebody
always pays."
And so Johnny llosenfeld paid.
The immediate result of his death
was that K., who had gained some of
his faith in himself on seeing Wilson
on the way to recovery, w as beset by
his old doubts. And now <'111110 a ques-
tion that demanded immediate answer.
Wilson would be out of commission for
several months, probably. He was
gaining, but slowly. And he wanted K.
to take over Ills work.
(TO BE CONTINUED.)
Former Harvard Student Who Enlist-
ed in Canadian Regiment and Lost
an Eye in Service Tells of
Thrilling Experiences.
Cambridge, Mass.—A vivid war diary
by Aimer Auzias de Turenne, u stu-
dent at the Harvard Law School now-
living in Seattle, who lost his right
eye fighting with the First Canadian
contingent nt Ypres, is published In
the Harvard Alumni Bulletin, extracts
of which follow:
"I had completed my flrst year at
the law school of Harvard university,"
says de Turenne, "and was spending
my holidays in Canadu when the war
broke out, and I, an American, decided
to enlist.
"It was on September 4, 1914, at
Valcartler, near Quebec, one of the
training camps of Canada, that I en-
listed In the Fifth battery. Second
brigade, Canadian Field Artillery. Af-
ter remaining a short time in camp we
left Canada for England, a force of
36,000 men, as members of the First
Canadian contingent, and thence we
went to France to the firing line. It
was not until the first German gas at-
tack that we got a real Idea of war-
fare la all Its horrors."
After a short account of the battle
of Neuve Chappelle and the first use
of gas by the Germans, De Turenne
describes the battle of Ypres:
Describes Fateful Battle.
"Ahead of us lay a long field, and
then a row of tall frees bordering the
Yzer canal, then further on another
plain and a little hill. At my point of
vantage I picked up a pair of field
glasses and, looking along the Yzer
canal, I could see black lines moving
up a hill. The Infantry was charging.
Occasionally the black iines would stop
and then continue again, leaving ev-
ery time black dots behind them—
these were the dead and wounded. At
night time It was also possible to see
our own shells explode.
"One morning about 10:30 the gun-
ners were all sitting by their guns
awaiting the order to fire, some smok-
ing, others chatting. Shells were fly-
ing by, but far off. and nobody Was
paying attention, we got so used to
them. I happened to be fixing the
bridle of my horse, nbout 20 feet from
the nearest gun, when I heard a shell
come. It seemed to come straight for
where I was, Judging by the sound ; I
turned around to see it explode. It ex-
ploded above my head at about the
height of 30 or 40 feet. I saw the ex-
plosion. A large piece of the outside
THOSE ^rho have traveled by the lanes
of the seas during the last two years
and have gone near that end of the
earth where chaoa reigns, have
watched with unrelaxed vigilance
for a stealthy rippling of the sur-
face made by that mole of the
ser., the torpedo, as it bores it-
self s hole through the water.
Great ships have strained
the eyes of their lookouts in
relentless vigilance and have
racked their very vitals in
attempts to dodge the de-
structive creature at the
point of the wake. Men
aboard have watched
the serpent thrust it-
self out until its nose
ha9 reached their
own stout craft,
when the has come. Nations have
listed with hated breath while witnesses
have testified to the crawl of the
waters that means the approach of
the torpedo. International crises
have hung upon what men said
they saw of a track in the
trackless deep.
The photogrspher haa
here made a picture of the
travail of the placid ocean
in the wake of one of
these messengers of
death, so that he who
sails may recognize
the handwriting
of the reaper if
he should chance
to read it.
of the casing of the shell, about a
quarter of an Inch thick and one Inch
and a half long, struck me flush in the
right eye, smashing the orbit, pene-
trating clean through the face, caus-
ing a bulging of the hard palate of
the mouth, whence It was extracted.
I still have the piece, which I treas-
ure as a souvenir. • For a moment I
was stunned as though hit by a sledge
hammer; then came a nasty sensation,
not exactly very painful. Putting my
hand to my face, I managed to reach
a little fence by the nearest gun, and
there the loss of blood caused me to
sit down. My companions Hying to
my aid, I was laid on an old-f ishioned
Flemish farm wagon drawn by the
shadow of a once decent horse. Dur-
ing all that time I was fully conscious,
and I distinctly remember my trip
from the place of the wound to Eng-
land."
Ghastly Bayonet Duel.
Mr. de Turenne describes the fol-
lowing Incident, of which he was an
eye witness:
"It was in the early times of this
terrific struggle. Somewhere In Flan-
ders the trenches stood only 200 yards
apart. On one side were the French,
on the other the Germans. The Ger-
mans had attempted a counter-attack,
and as it was getting dark they were
forced to retire, with great losses, leuv-
ing the dead and wounded on the field.
Amid this awful carnage two men only
remained, a Frenchman and a German.
They were engaged In a bayonet duel,
one trying to kill the other. They
were both dancing around In circles
like demons, thrusting and stabbing
right and left. One had to go, and
they fought. It was practically dark
by this time. The pale moon shone a
sickly reflection on these two human
beings. Their features were drawn
and haggard, their eyes flashed and
bulged out of their orbits, the ex-
pression on their faces was ghastly—
that of utmost despair. And still they
danced, each fighting for his existence,
when all of a sudden this uncanny per-
formance came to an abrupt stop.
There was a sharp click, 11 thrust and
a muffled sound. Doth bayonets went
home, both men stood transfixed, both
fell dead to the ground."
Make a Record for Efficiency
te-
la Cuba tobacco Is planted, grown
and harvested iu 00 days.
New British Armies Perfectly Or-
ganized and Fitted Out for
Business of War.
NIGH IDEALS IRE FOLLOWED
Standard Set by Gallant Force Which
Went Out to Mons Closely Fol-
lowed in Training Thou-
sands of Recruits.
London.—Great Britain's new armies
are now so perfectly organized and fit-
ted out that one may be likely to lose
sight of the greatness of their creation
and the unexampled difficulties that
had to be surmounted. There was a
sorry tatterdemalion stage, due to
shortage of boots, uniforms and so
forth.
The tiny army that went out to Mons
In August, 11)14, was probably the best-
trained body of troops in Europe for
its size. Its high standard was that
which those training the new armies
had before them as an Ideal. The first
17 months of the war was the difficult
period. Nearly all the efficient Instruc-
tors had gone abroad with the men,
who added another laurel to England's
military record in the gneat retreat
from Mons.
At tlie outbreak of war the accom-
modation available for single men In
barracks In the British isles was hard-
ly 175,000 units. Hosts of recruits
poured in. It was difficult to get tim-
ber. labor, inspectors; to all the camps
water and gas or electric light had to
be laid; old roads were repaired,
new ones made, and special lines of
railroad laid to all the largest camps.
Civilian Clothing Used.
In the clothing dilemma, while the
dozen makers of khaki cloth were be-
ing expanded to two hundred, civilian
overcoats were bought up and served
out to soldiers.
When war started the country hnd
fewer than 800.000 rifles, of which only
the authorized reserve of 150.000 re-
mained after the original force, mobi-
lized on August 4. had been armed.
And at that time the weekly output of
rifles In the 1'nlted Kingdom was un-
der two thousand. Of guns there were
t the outbreak of war only enough for
•Ighf divisions, with the authorized re-
•rve for wastage.
The greatest difficulties arose from
lack of officers to train the new armies.
On the eve of starting an order came
to the expeditionary force from the
war office that every battalion should
leave behind one captain and one sub-
altern to assist In training. That
helped greatly. Some two hundred of
the Indian army, home 011 leave, were
retained for training purposes; retired
officers ("dugouts") were appointed In
large numbers; many civilians over the
age of twenty-five received their first
commissions as lieutenants or captains.
The wisdom of providing a method of
rapidly expanding the commissioned
ranks by means of the Officers' Train-
ing corps became apparent. Within
the first year of the war Oxford univer-
sity O. T. C. provided more than 2.500
officers for the army; Cambridge Uni-
versity O. T. C., more than 2,000; three
northern universities more than 1,000,
and Inns of Court O. T. C. more than
2,500.
New Army Off After Nine Months.
Only nine months after embodiment
the first new army was sent to the
front, closely followed by the second
and third. Kven some divisions of tlie
fourth and fifth were fit to go to tlie
front barely a year after they had
been raised. And none of them gave
a bad account of themselves.
The secret of the great tridmph over
difficulties lies chiefly in the magnifi-
cent spirit of all ranks. If any special
rank is to be picked out. It Is undoubt-
edly true that the backbone of these
new armies was the junior subalterns.
Mostly untrained, or half trained,
they came to learn their work with
their men, and had no false shame I11
telling them so—without any prejudice
of discipline. Not content with the
exacting labors of the parade ground,
they sat up late preparing their work
for the next day. studying military
textbooks, practicing problems of
strategy and tactics; at mess hardly
any junior subaltern talked anything
but "shop." They put posers to the
majors and the colonels, which these
as willingly tackled. They were, In
fact, all keen and on their mettle, and
as on the whole they bad been well
chosen for brain power and aptitude
to command, they taught themselves
and their men, too, as they went.
The same tribute Is applicable In
greater or less degree to all ranks.
There was everywhere a determination
to overcome difficulties somehow aud
to get on with the work.
RECOGNIZES SON IN
NAVAL MOVIE PICTURE
Charleston, W. Va.—When R.
K. Washington, a hotel man
here, went Into a moving pic-
ture theater he learned the
whereabouts of his twenty-year-
old son Lawrence, who disap-
peared from his home two years
ago.
The film showed a picture of
the dreadnaught Pennsylvania
in target practice In the Hamp-
ton Iloads proving grounds,
with Lawrence Washington
manning one of the guns. The
father recognized his son in-
stantly.
The picture showed honors be-
ing conferred on the young man,
who made three hits without a
miss, as a result of which he
was promoted from ordinary
seaman to chief gun pointer,
with an Increase of $8 in ills
monthly stipend.
The youth Is a direct descen-
dant of George Washington's
brother Charles, for whom
Charlestown, W. Va., was
named.
RING TEARS OFF HIS FINGER
Catches in Nail as Wyoming Man
Leaps From Hayrick to
the Ground.
Newcastle, Wyo.—F. M. Johnson of
Ilownrd, while jumping from a hay-
rick to the ground the oilier ufter-
noon, had the misfortune to lose a
finger.
Mr. Johnson's ring became caught
in a nail when he jumped, and the fin-
ger was torn completely oft at the first
joint. He was at once brought to
'town to have the finger attended to,
and a physician amputated the mem-
ber at the second joint.
He is now doing as well as can be
expected. Mr. Johnson is staying at
the home of his brother, Clarence
Johnson, in tills city, while he is un-
der the doctor's care.
Nearly 1,000 in Family.
Hiawatha, Kan.—The biggest family
in this county has almost 1,000 mem-
bers. It is at Reserve, nine miles
north of here. Iteserve Is a small
town of 200 or more people with an
average Kansas population In the coun-
try surrounding for an area of si*
tnlles. Yet In the town and the entire
area of country within six miles of the
town there are not more than ten
families who are not related to each
other by ties of blood or marriage. Of
these ten families nearly all are
strangers who have moved into th«
community In recent year"
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The Norman Democrat--Topic (Norman, Okla.), Vol. 28, No. 14, Ed. 1 Friday, March 23, 1917, newspaper, March 23, 1917; Norman, Oklahoma. (https://gateway.okhistory.org/ark:/67531/metadc120414/m1/2/: accessed April 24, 2024), The Gateway to Oklahoma History, https://gateway.okhistory.org; crediting Oklahoma Historical Society.