The Paden Herald (Paden, Okla.), Vol. 5, No. 44, Ed. 1 Friday, August 4, 1916 Page: 7 of 8
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THE PADEN HERALD
m
i
H
C
A NOVEL
By GEORGE AGNEW
CHAMBERLAIN
1
Copyright by The Century Co.
SYNOPSIS.
Alan Wayne Is sent away from Red Hill,
his home, by his uncle. J. Y., as a moral
failure. Clem runs after him in a tangle
of short skirts to bid him good-by. Cap-
tain Wayne tells Alan of the failing of the
Waynes, Clem drinks Alan's health on his
plrthdnv. Judge Healey defends Alan in
a« "U8'ness with his employers. Alan and
Allx meet at sea, homeward bound, and
start a flirtation. At homo, Nance Ster-
ling asks Alan to go away from Alix. Allx
is taken to task by Gerry, her husband,
for her conduct with Alan and defies him.
Gerry, as he thinks, sees Allx and Alan
eloping, drops everything, and goes to
t^ernambuco. Allx leaves Alan on the
a,n«,anc* £oes home. Gerry leaves Per-
nambueo and goes to Piranhas. On a
canoe trip he meets a native girl. The
falls to trace Gerry. A baby Is born
to Allx. The native girl takes Gerry to
ner home, and shows him the ruined
plantation she Is mistress of. Gerry mar-
I«es her. At Maple house Colllngeford
tells how he met Alan—"Ten Per Cent
Wayne"—building a bridge in Africa. Col-
llngeford meets Allx and her baby and he
gives her encouragement about Gerry.
Alan comes back to town but does not
go home. He makes several calls In the
city. Gerry begins to improve Margar-
B, Plantation and builds an irrigating
dJtch.
Suppose you asked a man for
a job you needed desperately—
to keep from starving. Suppose
that man gave you a frightful
beating, out of pure cussedness
—and afterward gave you work.
Would you watch your chance to
get even, or would you save his
life when opportunity offered7
| CHAPTER XIV—Continued.
Gerry started opening the sluice
gates, the lowest first. The water gur-
gled out Into the raaiu trench and from
there was distributed. At first the
thirsty soil swallowed it greedily but
gradually the rills stretched farther
and farther down into the valley. Un-
der the blazing sun they looked like
streams of molten silver and gold.
Margarita came running up to them
from the house. Gerry put his arm
around her and made her face the val-
ley. Then he looked at the girl and
smiled. She smiled back at him but
trouble was still In her eyes.
Gerry left her to start on the work
of fitting the ponderous sluice-gate of
hewn logs that he had prepared for
the mouth of the great ditch. It was a
trlump"h of ingenuity. He never could
have evolved It without the aid of a
giant iron wood wormscrew taken from
the wreck of a cotton press. The screw
was so heavy that he and Bonifacio
Gould hardly carry It
At the end of three days the great
gate was installed. He and Bonifacio
tolled like sailors at a capstan. They
drove the heavy barrier down Into the
sand with a last turn of the screw and
shut out the river. Margarita came
and saw and was pleased.
Under the broad dome of a mango
tree on the banks of an unnamed Afri-
can river Alan Wayne had pitched his
camp. The Selwyn tent and the pro
jectlug veranda fly were faded and
stained. The bobbinet mosquito cur-
tains were creamed with age and serv-
ice. Two camp chairs and a collapsi-
ble table, battered but strong, were
placed before the tent. Over one of
the chairs hung a towel. On the ground
squatted a take-down bath tub, half
filled with water. In the deep shadow
of the tree the pale green rot-proof
canvas of the tent, the fly, the chairs
and bathtub, gleamed almost white.
On the farther side of the great
trunk of the tree was the master's
kitchen, three stones and a half-circle
of forked sticks driven into the ground.
On the sticks hung a few pots and
pans, a saddle of buck, bits of fat and
a disreputable looking coffee-bag. Be-
tween the stones was a bed of coals.
Before them crouched a red-fezzed
Zanzibar!.
From under a second tree, fifty
yards away, came the dull, rhythmic
pounding of wooden pestles in worden
mortars. The eye could Just distin-
guish the glistening naked torsos of
three blacks in motion. They were
singing a barbarous chantey. At the
pauses their arms went up and the
posies camp down together with a
1 ?111< 1 The blacks were pounding the
k:iiir ;" pn for the men's evening meal.
• • wit Hie ri\er and almost out of
i i>: irk spidery construction
• uut over the water—Alan's
latest bridge. Men swarmed on It.
Six o'clock and there came the trill
of a whistle. Suddenly the bridge was
cleared. A babble of voices arose.
There was a crackling of twigs, a
shuffling of feet, here and there a high,
excited cry, and then the men poured
into camp. A din of talk, held In
check for hours, arose. Glistening
black bodies danced to Jerky, fantastic
steps. Songs, shouts and Impatient
cries to the cooks swelled the medley
of sound. Through the camp stole the
acrid odor of tolling Africa.
Behind the men marched the fore-
man, McDougal; behind him came
Alan. At sight of him the Zanzlbarl
sprang into action. He poured a tin
of hot water Into the bath tub and
laid out an old flannel suit. Beside
the suit he placed clean underwear,
fresh socks aud, ou the ground, a pair
of slippers.
Alan stripped, bathed and dressed.
The Zanzlbarl handed him a cup of
hot tea. By the time the tea was drunk
the table was freshly laid and Alan
sat down to a steaming bowl of broth,
and dinner.
After dinner McDougal Joined bim
for a smoke. For a full half hour they
sat wordless. Darkness fell and
brought out the lights of their fltfullj
glowing pipes. From the men's camp
came a subdued chatter. The men
were feeding. As they finished thej
lit fires—a fire for every little group
The smell of the wood fires triumphed
over every other odor.
McDougal had met Alan first In a
bare room at an African seaport. The
room was furnished with a chair and
a table. At the table sat Alan, busy
with final estimates and plans for sup-
plies for his little army. The Interview
was short. McDougal had asked for a
Job and Alan had answered, "Get out."
McDougal had repeated his request
and the rest of the story he told the
next morning before the resident mag-
istrate In the chair aud Alan in the
dock.
"A weel, your honor, It was this way:
I went into Mr. Wayne's office and
asked him for worruk and he said, 'Get
out.' I asked him again and he said,
'I'll give you two to get out—One—
Two,' and with that he cooms on to
the table and flying through the air.
I had joost considered that It was best
I should let him hit me first alnce that
I might break him with Justice when
he struck me face with both fists, and
his knee in the pit of me stummick.
And that's all, your honor, savin' the
Kafir that I woke up to find watering
me and a rose bush, turru by turrn
aboot."
"I suppose," said the magistrate,
covering his twitching mouth with his
hand, "that was the Kafir I signed a
hospital pass for last night."
"It may weel be," replied McDougal
dreamily. "It may weel be."
"Well, McDougal, I think this Is a
matter that can be settled out of
court—"
McDougal held up a vast hand In
interruption. "Begging your pardon,
your honor, there'll be nae settling of
this matter out of coort between Mr.
Wayne and mysel'. Alnce is enough."
Justice and the prisoner In the dock
surrendered to laughter. McDougal
stood grave and unperturbed.
"What I meant," said the magis-
trate when he recovered, "is that Mr.
Wayne will probably give you a Job
and call it all square."
"That's It," said Alan.
"I asked Mr. Wayne for worruk and
If It's worruk he Is giving me I'll nae
be denying It is a fair answer," replied
McDougal, and forthwith became Ten
Percent Wayne's gang boss and under-
study in the art of driving men with
both fists and a knee.
McDougal knocked out his third
pipe. "The de'Il of a country Is this,"
he said; "In the seas of It a life-pre-
server holds you up handy for sharks
and in the rivers does swimming save
your life? Nae. It gives you a meal
to the crocs."
They had lost a black that day. He
had slipped from the bridge Into the
water. He had started to swim to
shore and then suddenly disappeared
in a swirl.
Conversationally, McDougal limited
himself to a sentence a day in which
h> summed up the one event that had
struck him as worthy of notice. Hav-
ing delivered himself of his observa-
tion for the night he lit his pipe once
more and relapsed into silence.
McDougal's was a companionable si-
lence. Alan could feel him sitting
there In the dark, raw-boned and dour
but ready at the word of command.
It was after eight when Alan called
for a light and drew from a worn let-
ter case the correspondence that a
runner from the coast had brought In
that day. He glanced over official com-
munications, blue prints and business
letters and stuffed them back Into the
leather case. One fat letter, note-
paper size, remained.
"McDougal," said Alan, "hush up
the camp—tell 'em It's nine o'clock."
McDougal arose aud picking up a
big stick strode over towards the men.
The stick was so big that he had never
had to use It. At the mere sight of it
the men desisted from clamor, dance
and horse-play.
Alan drew the fat letter from its
envelope and for the second time read,
Dear Alan: As you see, this Is from
New York. We came down yesterday.
All summer I have been watching for my
second self because I'm Just about grown
up now—outside, I mean—inside is different
somehow—and three days before we left
1 really caught her looking at me while
I was sitting on the old stone bench
down by the pond.
I Jumped up and ran after her all the
way down Long Lane and up the Low
Road to where the red cow broke her leg
that time and there I lost her. I didn't
find her again and had to come away
without her and now I feel so queer-
sort of half-y, Just like you.
Somehow I can't blame her. She didn't
want to leave the Hill In the gorgeous
month so she Just stayed behind. Do you
remember—
This Is the gorgeous month when leafy
fires
Mount to the gods in myriad summer
pyres . . . ?
A few hours sgo when I was doing my
mile on the avenue I almost got run down
and Mam'selle gave me an awful scolding
for being so absent-minded. It was a true
word. I was Just that—absent-minded—
because my mind was off chasing that
other half. And then I came back and
there I was on the avenue with people
staring at me more than they ever have
before. I suppose it was because I was
out of breath with chasing In my mind.
Good-by, Alan. CLEM.
AJan sat in the circle of light from
the hanging lamp and stared Into the
darkness. From the river came the
sound of sucking mud. then a heavy
tread. A monster hippo blundered
through the bushes In search of food.
On the other side of the tree trunk the
Zanzlbarl was snoring. The fires were
burning out at the men's camp. Once
more the odor of their bodies hung In
the air.
Alan arose and dragged his chair to
the outer edge of the mango tree. He
sat down and with hands locked and
elbows on knees gave himself up to
memory. He forgot the sounds and
smells of Africa, the black-green of
overhanging leaves, the black shadows
of the swirling river, the black-bronze
of the men about him. For an hour he
tore himself away from the black
world to wander over the beloved hills
in New England where summer dies
In a burst of light.
Red Hill, crowned with mountain-
ash, called to his spirit as a torch in
the night to a lost wanderer. The thir-
ty months that had passed since last
he saw Its budding promise were
swept away. He imagined those very
budding leaves at the end of their
course, the pale amber of the elms,
the deep note of the steadfast firs, the
flaunting fire of the brave maples.
Maple House arose before him, its
lawn carpeted with dry leaves. From
the leaves floated an Incense, dusty,
pungent. The cool shadows of the
great, rambling house beckoned to
him. Here is peace, here is rest, they
seemed to cry. The memory of home
gripped him, held him and soothed
him. His head nodded and he slept
only to awake with a start, for he had
dreamed that he had lost the way
back forever.
Gerry turned to his work of tilling
the soil. He cut the best of the cane
and Bonifacio planted the Joints at a
slant with knowing hand. He sorted
the bolls of cotton. The women stu-
died the fiber and when it was long,
silky and tough they picked out the
seeds with care and hoarded them, for
their time was not yet. One duty
urged another. The days passed rap
Idly.
One morning Gerry looked up from
his labor to find a mounted figure Jjist
behind him. An elderly man of florid
face sat a restive stallion of Arab
strain. The stranger's note was opu-
lence. From his Panama hat, thin and
light as paper, to his silver spurs and
the silver-mounted harness of his
horse, wealth marked him. He was
dressed in white linen and his flaring,
glossy riding-boots of embroidered
Russian leather stood out from the
white clothes and the whiter sheep's
fleece that served as saddle cloth, with
telling effect In his hands was a
sliver-mounted rawhide quirt. His
face was grave, his eyes blue and kind-
ly. as Gerry looked at him he spoke,
"I'm Lieber from up the river."
Gerry started at the familiar Eng-
lish and frowned. At the frown the
stranger's eyes shifted. "I didn't come
down here to bother you," he went ou
hastily. One of my men told me
about the green grass and I couldn't
keep away. I've got ?attle and horses
up my way and they're dying—starv-
ing. I came down to make a deal.
I've picked out a hundred and twenty
head with blood In 'em—horses and
cattle. If you'll take 'em and feed
'em through to the rains I'll give you
ten out of the hundred. Some are too
far gone to save, I'm afraid."
Gerry looked at his tiny plantations
which showed up meanly In the great
expanse of waste pasture. "I'm sor-
ry," he said, "but I'm afraid I can't.
You see, I can't afford to fence."
Lieber looked around and nodded:
"That's all right," he said, "I've got a
lot of old wire that's no use to me and
a lot of loafers to tear it down and
put it up. I'll fence as much pasture
as you say and throw In the fencing
ou the deal."
"That's mighty fair," said Oerry;
"I'll take you." He dropped his hoe.
"Won't you come down to the house
and have a bite to eat?" He turned
and Lieber started to follow. "By
the way," said Gerry over his shoul-
der, "you're not a German, are you?"
Lieber stopped his horse. Ills eyes
wavered. "No," he said shortly, "I'm
not I'm an American. After all, 1
don't think I ought to waste any time.
Hours tell with starving stock. I'll
Just get back In a hurry, If you don't
mind. My men and the wire will be
here Just that much sooner."
Gerry frowned again but this time
at himself. He felt that he had
stepped on another man's corns while
defending his own. "All right, Mr.
Lieber," he said. "The sooner the
better. I'll do all I can to help."
The next morning the men came ac-
companied by oxcarts loaded with
fencing, posts and all. Lieber was
with them. He sat his horse through
the hot hours and drove his men stead-
ily. Oerry threw himself into the work
as foreman. The fence grew with
amazing rapidity. From the bridge
they carried It in a straight line past
the house to the river. It cut off a
vast triangle whose two other sides
were held by the ditch and the river.
By night the work was almost done.
Gerry was tired and happy, but he
sighed. How many weeks of toll
would not he and Bonifacio have had
to put In to accomplish that fence!
Lieber stayed the night with them
and Gerry studied and imitated the
older man's Impersonality. Lieber
kept his eyes on his plate or in the
vague distance while^ the women at-
tended them and as soon as the busi-
ness of eating was over he retired to
the room that had been allotted to
him.
He was up early in the morning and
away to meet the coming herd. First
came the horses, neighing and quick-
ening their weak trot at the smell of
grass. Far away and like a distorted
echo sounded the lowing of the slower
cattle. The little herd of Fazenda
Flores caught the moaning cry and
lifted lazy heads. One or two lowed
back.
The horses were rounded up at the
bridge to await the cattle. They
stretched thin necks toward the call-
ing grass and moved restlessly about
with quick turns of eager heads and
low Impatient whinnies. Lieber sat his
stable-fed stallion stolidly, but his eyes
grew moist as he looked over the bony
lot of horses. "They must wait for
the cattle," he said to Gerry. "A fair
start and no favor. Gad, If you could
have seen them three months ago!"
The cattle came up in a rapid sham-
ble that carried them slowly for they
were staggering In short, quick steps.
Their heads hung almost to the ground.
They had no shame. They moaned
pitifully—continually.
Gerry opened the wire gap. The
horses gave an anticipatory whirl and
then dashed through. They forgot
their weakness. They galloped down
the slope, spurning beneath their feet
the food they had longed for. They
did not stop till they reached the rich
bottoms. Lieber smiled affectionately.
"There's spirit for you," he said.
The cattle followed but the men had
to beat the first through away from
the gap. They had stopped to eat and
had blocked the way. At last they
were all In and the gap closed. One
or two stood with straddled feet and
continued to low, their Hps Just brush-
ing the lush grass. "Poor beasts," said
Lieber, the smile gone from his face,
"they are too weak to eat."
He and Gerry went back to the
house for breakfast The herders sat
and smoked. They had had coffee; It
would see them through half the day.
Before Lieber left, the horses were
herded once more and with much trou-
ble driven out upon the desert Lie-
ber turned to Gerry. . "Dou't let them
back In until tomorrow, please," he
said. "If you do, they'll founder."
"What about the cattle?" asked Ger-
ry.
"The cattle are all right. They
haven't enough spirit left to kill them-
selves eating. They'll begin lying
down pretty soon. Good-by, and re-
member, you'll get a warm welcome
up at Lleber's whenever you feel like
riding over."
"Thanks," said Gerry. "Good-by."
He watched Lieber ride away with
a feeling of changes Impending. Fa-
zenda Flores, his isolated refuge, was
beginning to link itself to a world.
Man, like a vine, has tendrils. To
climb he must reach them out and
cling.
The reward of those long months of
preparation was at hand. Once every
spade «hrust had seemed but the pre-
cursor to barren effort. Now every
stroke of the hoe seemed to bring forth
a fresh green leaf. Life fell lute an
entrancing monotone. It became an
endless chain that forged Its own links
and lengthened out Into an endless
perspective. Days passed. The ar-
rival of Lleber's foreman to see how
the stock was progressing was an
event. He brought with him an old
saddle and bridle—a gift from Lieber
to Gerry. "He oays," the foreman re-
marked with a leer, on making the
presentation, "you can ride anything
you can catch."
Gerry felt the foreman needed put-
ting in place. He went into the house
and reappeared carrying something in
ills hat He climbed the fence ii«I
called. The horses raised their heads
and looked. Some were lazy after wa-
tering but the others trotted over to-
ward him. They stopped a few yards
off and scrutinized him as though to
divine his Intentions. Then they ap-
proached cautiously, with tense legs,
ready to whirl and bolt. A greedy colt
refused to play the game of fear to a
finish. He strode forward and was re-
warded with a large lump of sugar.
The sugar was coarse and black, first
cousin to virgin molasses, but It was
redolent. The horses crowded around
Gerry. They pawed at him. He had
to beat them back. They made a bold
assault on the empty but odorous hat
Gerry laughed and cleared the fence to
get away from them. "I think your
master must be mistaken," he said
with a smile to the foreman. "Some
of these colts can never have been
backed."
The foreman looked his admiration.
He began to take Gerry seriously; It
was man to man now. He pointed out
the horses that were broken to saddle
and uamed their gaits and mettle.
Then his shrewd eyes looked around
for further details to add to his report
to his master. He noted that a few,
a very few, of the cattle were still
lying down when they should have
been on their feet and eating. These
were herded Into a corner of their own
and old Bonifacio was tending them.
Beside each was a pile of fresh cut
grass. As they ate they nosed It away,
but Bonifacio made the rounds and
with his foot pushed back the fodder
keeping it in easy reach.
The foreman's eyes caught on two
new-born calves. They had been taken
from their weak mothers and were In
a rough pen by themselves. The fore-
man did not have to count the stock
to see that uone was missing. He was
cattle bred. A gap in the herd or the
bunch of horses would have flown at
the seventh sense of the stockman the
moment he laid eyes on the field. In-
stead there were these two calves.
"Master," he said to Gerry, "you have
made up your mind not to lose a head.
You would save even these little ones,
bom before their time!"
Gerry nodded gravely. He had
worked hard to save all. He winced
at the mere thought of death at Fa-
zenda Flores even down to these least
weaklings. He himself had fed them
patiently from a warm bottle, tn trou-
ble and valuable time they had cost
him an acre of cotton. But an acre of
cotton was a small price to pay for
life.
A grip of the hand and the foreman
was off in a cloud of dust At the
bridge he pulled his horse down to the
shambling fox trot th-\t spares beast
and man but eats steadily Into a long
journey. A bearer of good tidings rides
slowly.
Gerry turned to his work but a cry
from the house arrested him. He
dropped his field tools and ran to the
house. Dona Maria glanced at him,
clawed and hustled him out of the
room—out of the house. The door
slammed behind him. He heard the
great bar drop. He was locked out
Gerry paced angrily up and down
the veranda. Calm came back to him.
He saw that he had been a fool. He
stopped and sat down on the steps of
the veranda. Here, before he had
made bis benches, she had often sat
beside him, caressed him, sung to him.
How cold he had been. How little he
had done for her. He remembered
that as she had worked on baby
clothes she had said she wished she
had some blue ribbon. They had all
laughed at her, but she had uodded her
girl's head gravely and said, "Yes, I
wish I had some blue ribbon—a little
roll of blue ribbon." What a brute he
had been to laugh!
i When a man gets Into trouble
I because of a woman, he is in real
trouble. How will Gerry rid him-
self of this entanglement with
little Margarita? What would
any upright man do? Read the
f next installment.
(TO BE CONTINUED.)
Wanted Market Price for Votes.
A corpulent negro woman came Into
the office of Judge George I. Griffith
of Kansas City, Kan., one morning and
inquired for the "Jedge." "What can
I do for you?" asked the Judge. "Is
yoh runnin' foh Jedge again?" she
asked. "Yes, I'm trying to get the
nomination," the Judge replied.
"What's the 'slderation foh votes dls
yeah?" "What!" almost yelled the
Judge, beginning to understand the
drift of the conversation. "Ah means,"
explained Lhe negress, "Is votes wuth
one dollah er two dollahs dls 'lection?"
"Are you aware that It is a serious of-
fense for a person to sell his vote?"
sternly demanded the Judge. "Ah don'
'zaetly uniahstan' yoh, Jedge, but ef
yoh means yoh ain't buyln' 'em, dat's
all right. Ah believe yoh's no politlsh-
un nohow." And with this contemptu-
ous parting shot she left the office.
A Pessimist
"Don't you think It's possible tor a
couple to get along well on a salary
of $25 per week?"
"From what I can learn. It's not pos-
sible for a couple ty get along wsU
anyhow." —
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The Paden Herald (Paden, Okla.), Vol. 5, No. 44, Ed. 1 Friday, August 4, 1916, newspaper, August 4, 1916; Paden, Oklahoma. (https://gateway.okhistory.org/ark:/67531/metadc144923/m1/7/: accessed July 8, 2024), The Gateway to Oklahoma History, https://gateway.okhistory.org; crediting Oklahoma Historical Society.