The Copan Leader. (Copan, Okla.), Vol. 1, No. 13, Ed. 1 Friday, April 21, 1916 Page: 2 of 8
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HE COPAN LEADER
THE HEART
NIGHT Wl
A STORY Of THE GREAT NORTH WESTV
Oyvingie e. roc
ILLUSTRATIONS 6y f&f (jdfrsfc&J
QQPYftJCfir OY POOD, M£AD AND COMPANY
CHAPTER XXVI.
—13—
The Spirit of the East.
Company H, under Captain Donald-
son, they trotted swiftly up with the
quickstep of hard-trained Infantry
and stood in column of fours while
the officers sought the head of af-
fairs. Daily promptly sent for the
young forest ranger, and in less than
It takes in the telling these two keen
witted Westerners, the woodsman
and the soldier, were ready to grap-
ple with the enemy. Light-marching
kits were dumped upon the ground
and the hard-muscled men took to
the hills and the timber under quick,
decisive orders. Two hours later
wagons arrived with commissary7 sup-
plies and the smoky, blackened val-
ley took on a military air.
It was a Titan struggle, and it was
indicative of the force that has con-
quered nature—the human atoms toil-
ing in bemidarkness beneath the
threatening foreBt, choked by the
smoke, flayed by the almost unbear-
able heat, menaced by the flames that
at any moment might Bweep here or
there among the rocks and declivities
of the uneven hills and cut off escape.
That was the great danger they
guarded against—the possibility of
getting hemmed In. Guards were de-
tailed to watch the vanguards of the
foe, to note the speed of the flames,
the He of the timber, the lines that
were likely to go fastest, following the
different growths, but in the mysteri-
ous dusk and the silence of vast
mingled sounds they were Impotent
and each man had to take care of him-
self.
The mighty boom of failing patri-
archs of the forest, hoary with a thou
sand years of age. crashing through
obstructing branches, shook the earth
each moment. With each such stu-
pendous fall wealth and world-econ-
omy and prudence trembled at the
sacrilege. It was a carnival of waste,
a sacrifice of the gifts of God—and
among all those who fought it witn
heart and hand and brain there was
none who knew its worldwide import
so well, who lamented it so keenly
as the lean, brown forest rangers
whose special foe it was.
“And to think a dozen miles of gov-
ernment trails would have prevented
it!" crtpd the leader with an oath
Out in the valleys beyond, the heavy
smoke had obscured the setting sun
entirely. Over the crest of the Coast
Range it had spread up to the heav-
ens, drifted afar on the changing wind
and all the distant valley of the Wil-
lamette knew that the forest fires
were burning in the hills.
The papers throughout the state
told of it that day, and it awakened
no more interest than would have at-
tended the announcement of a heavier
run of salmon than was usual in the
Columbia.
They were too common, those fires
that sported with the national wealth
each year, too much a part of every-
day life, and they did not know that
this was to be a marker of time in
the coast country.
Time was when they were unknown,
these monsters of destruction—a long-
past time it was, when those first for-
est rangers, the silent Red Men of
the hills, had burned out the under-
brush each year so that a pony might
go anywhere unhindered.
The silent rangers had gone with
the years—passed to the Hunting
Grounds and the reservations, via civ-
ilization, and now the great timber
had shed its dry foliage and its pitch,
the little growths had sprung up sea-
son after season, the vines had ciept
between and a man might not pene-
trate the fastnesses without built
trails.
So Destiny took up the land and
played with it that hot, dry August.
All through the early hours of the
long night they labored, dirty, black-
ened, tattered scarecrows of men, run-
ning here and there, digging like mad
In the wide trench that was to stop
the surface flames, sawing unceas-
ingly at the towering trees, while the
guards brought twenty-minute tidings
of the approaching fire.
High against the dun. smoke-light-
ened sky the dark canopy of the East
Belt whispered and moaned as if in
fear, and from time to time Sandry, a
haggard, grim-lipped specter of a man,
lifted his bloodshot eyes toward it. It
was still his own, his future of the
Dillingworth, despite the tangle of
Hampden’s threats, the unrecorded
deed and the unfinished trail of the
Yellow Pines at the south, and it
pulled at bis heart pathetically.
There was still a stretch of almost
l impenetrable timber near the summit
of the big ridge which must be cut
through before the flames reached It.
or all would be lost.
"Shall we make It, John?’’ asked
the owner desperately of Daily, who
ran by in the smoke with wet rags to
tie over the mouths of the men.
"Ought to if the wind stays where
It is."
It was two o'clock and that hour in
the sleeping world outside when all
the elements are at an ebb.
Then, all suddenly, Destiny laughed.
nearer and nearer to the earth for
breath, they drew the last blade, sent
the last big pine crashing toward the
north.
The ridge was clear In the Increas-
ing glow.
“Now!" cried Sandry with the tri-
umph of a general on a victorious
field, "now for the ridge and over!”
But even as he dropped his saw and
ran, calling his men, Collins’ big voice
came through the rolling smoke with
the calm of finality.
“Ain’t no ’over.’ It’s a ninety-foot
drop on to hard rock beyond that
ridge.”
Sandry stopped in his tracks, his
head cleared as if with a whiff of salt
air by that call.
The men had closed in with the in-
stinct of their kind to be together in
danger, as if so the danger were les-
sened.
But the Easterner was undaunted.
"Then we'll take to the East Belt.”
he cried, "even though it is a crown
fire and coming fast, I think our trench
will hold it.”
With all confidence he turned to the
| south. Instinctively the men had
drawn in behind him. The neck of the
East Beit was a wavering wall of
wind that rose as the elemental ebb-
tide turned. Hell broke loose upon
the land and heaven w7as not. Eire
encompassed the world. Its increased
roar changed to the thunder of the
spheres. It appalled the hearts of
men, stayed their hands in fright. All
throughout the darkness of rolling
smoke wherein they worked between
the raging torrent and the East Belt
that mighty voice commanded cessa-
tion.
Instantaneously, without orders, as
one man where there was no commu-
nication save between those a few feet
apart, they dropped their spades, their
And Destiny's laugh was a whooping j flame. He whirled and glanced back
along the fall and the trench. Long
streamers of flame were licking across
it. The half-looked-for had happened.
The little bunch of fighters were
hemmed in, ringed around by fire.
Deauh faced them qn every side.
Then, as the owner sent a searching
look to every quarter, he sprang for-
ward.
"Here!" he cried, "here! into it!
Every man of you. In, I say!”
At the crest of the sheer ridge an
old, abandoned tunnel gaped in the
gloom, a dim haven of refuge its
mouth was overhung by vines. Its re-
cess mysterious in the blackness. San-
tattered blankets, their axes. They ! dry sprang to its edge and turned back
straightened from their labor, leaving ' *fc“ “
the cross-cuts in the trunks. Here and
there, above the solemn thunder
hoarse voices began to call. It was
the time to quit and they realized it
instinctively.
"Out! Out! Out!" they cried to
each other in the dusk. "Get out!
Get out!”
Walter Sandry, working near the
apex of the pushing line, saw men be-
ginning to run past him back along the
trench and the cutting. He lifted des-
perate eyes to the ridge whose dim
crest he could see between the boles,
so near had they won to victory. Only
a few more big pines, a dozen saplings,
a scant few yards of trench and It
would be done—the long lane of safety
stretched across the neck of the East
Belt!
"Stop! Stop! Stop!” he cried with
a great voice that came from the very
depths of his lungs with borrowed
power. “Stand by me, men! For God’s
sake stand by!”
He saw dim shapes falter, half turn | across
toward him and start on. Again he
raised his stentorian cry and flying
figures halted a moment, stopped
against their will by its compelling
1 power.
"I’m Johnny Eastern, all right, but
I’m going to stay! Who’ll stay with
me?”
Out of the dense obscurity came Col-
i lins. a huge, fantastic figure, and stood
beside him without a word. In the ten-
sion of the time Sandry reached out
a hand and gripped the giant's shoul-
der.
“A dozen men and we've won!” he
cried.
He saw the halting shapes turn,
gather another and another, retrace
^heir steps and spring back into the
darkness. Every man of them was
I western born and the taunt had gone
home. He leaped himself for the
j handle of a saw sticking out from the
bole of a 150-foot sugar pine and the
whining song of the crosB-cuts rose
again under the dwarfing roar.
Fourteen men had heard and an-
swered that call, and they were alone
i in the purgatory of heat and smoke.
All the rest were running for their
! lives down the cleared fall toward the
valley beyond the dip.
From time to time Sandry glanced
upward at the increasing light. The
sugar pine fell with a rending roar,
and with Harris, who, he saw for the
first time, had been pulling with him.
ho ran to the next.
He saw as he ran that one of the
men, working like a fury to fell the
saplings, was Murphy, who had greet-
ed his pompous "Dillingworth" with
such grinning irony in the old days.
He had a moment's vague wonder at
this odd stripe of humanity that could
hold such prejudice, fight with Hamp-
den’s men in savage enmity, to join
their ranks later with happy irrespon-1
sibility at the call of gold, and was
still willing to turn back to fight with
him on death s brink, because he had
returned their taunt of East and West.
One by one, in silence, in a tension
that drew the skin tight on their faces,
they saw the 1«“* r«maining monarchs
fall, the kindling saplings laid on
earth, the trench, much narrower and
shallower, creep upward to the ridge.
Against time, against heat that
scorched their bare arms and tortured
their starting eyeballs, against a sti-
fling atmosphere that drove them
for the men to pass. They stood, a
small, silent bunch, gazing in wordless
consternation at the red canopy.
“Now how in hell did It get across
the fall?" said Collins hoarsely.
But one by one they stooped and
entered the small black hole In the
earth. It ran backward into the ridge,
scarce the height of a tall man. its
floor uneven with the heaps of earth
fallen from the roof since some long-
forgotten prospector had carved ft
out.
Here for a moment they breathed
more easily, standing close together,
a sweating, panting, waiting mass of
humanity. Sandry stood at the mouth,
the last to enter. He looked out in
hushed amaze at the unchained mad-
! ness of the burning world. The great
tire had reached its zenith. It came
j booming and roaring to the fall and
I the trench. Its sound was indescrib-
1 able. The heat grew until the flesh on
| Sandry’s arms and face rose in blis-
l ters. A sheet of flame shot sheer
the tunnel’s mouth. Smoke
rolled into it and here and there a
gasping breath ended in a moan
There was no air to breathe. Like
trapped animals the men jumped here
tempts to pass me,” said Sandry
hoarsely.
Raving and cursing, he backed away
More than one of the fourteen
begged to be allowed to pass, and one
of the lumberjacks from Sacramento
muttered deliriously of calling his
bluff. But the awful moments dragged
by and Sandry stood at the entrance.
The flames passed all measurement of
light and beat. He lost sight of the
figures at his feet. He felt himself go-
ing out in the darkness.
"S’letz," he muttered, "little S’letz—"
When he came to himself again, men
were crawling across him. He could
breathe better and the light bad les-
sened. He sat up, wincing at the mov-
ing of his scorched skin over the
muscles underneath, crawled out with
the rest and one by one they rose to
their feet. The great timber of the
East Belt farther down stood serried
and green. The effort had not been in
vain. The holocaust was checked, the
Belt was safe.
Back toward the north stretched a
forest of tall, black spikes, picked out
here and there by heavy spots of fire
where fallen logs, dry and pitch-laden,
burned steadily. The green canopy
was gone, every vine and bit of brush,
every sapling and fern. Only a thin
edge still crackled and snapped with
streamers of flame along the trench.
"Mr. Sandry,” said Harris, the saw-
filer, "if you’re an Easterner 1 hope to
God the breed fills up the country!"
He extended a hand which Sandry
grasped.
"An’ me,” said Murphy, his grimy
features distorted in an expression of
mingled gratitude and contrition. "I
take it all back—every damn word 1
ever said against you, an’ it’s a long
list.”
"Forget it,” said Sandry. He was no
longer Johnny Eastern. He had won
his right to live and fight among them.
"Is it over, Collins?” he asked,
steadying his voice.
"Over? Look yonder. Feel th’ wind.
It’s changin’ again. Th’ fire's back-
crawled toward the Siletz basin three
miles, I'll bet, while we've ben savin
this end. We’ve only begun to fight.”
dry, still somewhat of a boy, parried
the yearning question.
“Who would care?" he laughed
wryly, "would you, Little Squaw?”
The girl did not answer, but as she
turned away the ready mist sprang to
her eyes and he reached a contrite
hand to her shoulder.
"Forgive me! 1 know you would!"
It seemed to Siletz as the horror
swept north and the men were lost
for hours in the dim fastnesses, that
something was about to happen.
She felt a prescience of disaster
which Coesnah shared, and they two
stood apart for long spaces of time
silent, listening, the muscles of each
drawn taut. From time to time the
great mongrel would squat upon his
haunches, lift his heavy muzzle toward
the dun-smoke heavens and bay with
a long-drawn, silver note that was the
very acme of melancholy.
And then came a dawn when no one
came in for breakfast, when the sun,
coming over the ridge to the east,
was not visible. Only a pale light
turned the heavy canopy to shadowed
pearl. The three women waited In that
silence which ever attends the waiters
COMMANDER OF THE MOEWE
/j
r
V
jn
Collins' Big Voice Came Through the
Rolling Smoke.
and there, feeling for an opening, a
crevice to crawl into, away from the
agony of heat and suffocation. And
then they lost control of themselves.
"My God" cried Murphy shrilly, “i
can't stand ut! Let me out an' I’ll
die an' get ut over!"
He came groping to the entrance,
facing the increasing heat. His face
was a madman's, bis mouth open, his
fingers crooked like talons. But at the
mouth, that was as the gate of hell, he
met the Easterner, a straight figure
against the light beyond.
"No,” said Sandry sternly, "go back
and lie down.”
“What?” he shrieked, "what? You
damned Johnny! V’ou tenderfoot!
I’ll—” And he flung himself forward.
A smooth, black muzzle came forth and
pushed its brazen menace into bis
face.
"I'll shoot the first man that at-
CHAPTER XXVII.
The Shot in the Hills.
At camp they met a party, headed
by the foreman, Just starting out in j
search of them. Their absence had
been discovered only when Dally, com
lng in from the north, where his work
had been laid out, had asked for San
dry.
At sight of him the three women
standing together at the foot-log gave j
evidence, each in her way, of those |
emotions which the suspicion of his
fate had stirred.
On Ma’s face was an unbounded
i pride that ke had come through, a
| man of parts, abundantly able to care
for himselt among a hardier crew. On
j Miss Ordway’s there lay a vast relief,
! while Siletz played with the collar of
| her blue shirt with trembling fingers
1 and moistened her dry lips.
Sandry turned and looked up at the
1 darkened east with a profound Joy. He
j swept his eyes north to where the red j
heaven flared and staggered to his j
' office.
"Three hours, ma," he croaked in a I
I voice of warning, "only three hours j
sleep for all of us. If you give us i
1 longer I’ll never forgive you.”
It was true, as Collins said, that
they had only begun to fight.
! Through the hours, days, nights that |
followed the saving of the East Beit j
they took no note of time. Up along j
the blackened, devastated valley the j
soldiers moved their camp. Ma Daily j
shut the cook-shack and suborned a
| wagon to haul her big range up and
deposit it alongside the camp stoves
: of Company H. where she dispensed
|coffee to her men and all others with
j impartial zeal. Miss Ordway, her skirts
i tucked up from the contamination of
| the burned earth which rose In hot,
black puffs at every moving foot, was
compelled to help if she would hold that
espionage over Siletz from which she
hoped to realize her ambition. A bit
ter hatred sharpened her blue eyes
upon the girl, and she ached to seize
her and tear out of her blouse that
packet of proofs. She was angered
at herself that all her cleverness had
failed to recover them before this
So the hours passed with smoke and
heat and a sun like a copper shield
Men came and went in relays, sleeping
| upon the ground for short shifts, rig
i idly apportioned and observed. The
flood of flame, runner after an arrant I
wind, had piled its forces in leaping
| billows in among the northern hills It
j seemed a thing of Irresistible might
; but the toilworn men hung to itB hank
i with a dogged persistence, emboldened
| and encouraged by the success on the
| east ridge.
Sandry, limping painfully, and hag-
gard as a ghost, stuck with the van-
guard despite Ma's commands and
J Daily’s warnings. At each fresh sight
! of his face the girl Siletz was wrung
! with anguiBh. It seemed as if he coukl
bear no more and yet the spirit in him
drove him on.
Once she ventured a timid protest.
“What Is the timber worth If you
die?” she asked plaintively, and San-
Commander Count Nikolaus zu
Dohna-Schlodien of the famous Ger-
man sea raider Moewe won the hearts
of all his countrymen and the admira-
tion of the world through his exploitB
with the little Sea Gull, whose roman-
tic career ended, temporarily, at least,
on March 4 last, when she arrived
safely In the German seaport of Wll-
helmshaven after vhat the German
admiralty railed “a successful cruise
of several months."
On her way out the Moewe eluded
the legion of British cruisers and pa-
trol boats and slipped through the
English channel, where she sowed
mines, one of which caused the de-
struction of the British predread-
naught Edward VII. Then she made
her way to the mid-Atlantic and there
established a "raiding zone all her
own,” capturing or sinking fifteen
allied vessels, all British with the ex-
__ception of one French and one Bel-
g an. When she arrived at Wilhelmshaven she had on board 199 prisoners
from these vessels and 1,000,000 marks ($250,000) In gold bars, taken from
the British liner Appam, now a German prize In Newport News. Count zu
Dohna-Schlodien and the whole crew were decorated by the kaiser.
She Felt a Prescience of Disaster
Which Coosnah Shared.
for men who face danger. They were
used to the silence, for there was no
accord between them. Ma Daily had
long ago shut this "bird o’ th' earth"
out of her good heart and Siletz hated
her with the fury of the woman whose
mate Is threatened.
At last a solitary Indian came down
the valley, running, his mouth full of
excitement and dolorous prediction.
The whole of the Siletz would go. it
was the wrath of the Great Spirit
turned loose upon a wicked world. It
was the judgment. There was nothing
like it. He fell into jargon and re-
verted to the ancient gods, and Siletz
checked him sternly.
"What do you mean. Quanna?” she
said, ‘have you forgotten the Preacher
and the Bible? There is only one God
and he holds us In the hollow of his
hand. It is not the destruction of the
world. It will stop. What more has
happened, and where is Sandry of the
camp?"
Everything had happened. The
whole country was afire. Not only a
ridge or two, a valley in between, as
It had been here, a day. two days back,
but ridge after ridge, valley after val-
ley—the world, the earth, the heavens.
Sandry was somewhere up behind the
Hog Back.
For a moment the girl looked out
across the slough, lying like a dirty
ribbon between its gray and wilted
banks Then she turned troubled eyel
to the general.
"Mother." she said, “I know it now.
There's danger to Sandry, and I’m go-
ing.”
"Child, you're wrong this time. San-
dry’s a man. Well aB you know th
hills I can't let you go. I forbid it.”
They faced each other a moment
while Siletz tossed back her braids
and tightened her belt.
"I’m going," she said quietly. Ma
Daily, who had raised her. said no
more; but as she turned to the stove
aimlessly—as was her wont In every
time of trial, there was a deeper line
about her tremulous old mouth.
Swift as the wind the girl ran down
the valley toward the deserted camp.
Miss Ordway watched her and against
her will, drawn by some subtle excite-
ment. some urging power, she. too,
gathered her skirts and began to run
across the pulling asnes. At the lean-
to she came upon the other just lead-
ing out Black Bolt, a shining beauty,
eager for the turf.
"I’m going too," panted Poppy,
reaching for a bridle that hung behind
the bay.
(TO BE CONTINUED.)
Representative Frank E. Doremus,
chairman of the Democratic congres-
sional committee, used to run a little
weekly newspaper In Michigan. His
specialty was writing about the tariff.
He w7as seventeen years of age and
had once written an essay on the tar-
iff for a high school literary society.
He therefore agreed to be the local
authority on tariff matters. When his
paper had been going for about a
week, Doremus burst forth in a col-
umn editorial. It was about the tariff.
The next day the probate Judge of the
county came in, threw a copy of the
paper on the counter, and ordered his
subscription stopped.
"And 1 was the happiest man in
town," says Doremus, "for 1 had
found another person besides myself
who took me seriously."
One day a husky tramp printer,
working on Doremus’ paper, got drunk
and came to the office in an ugly mood.
"Get out of here," ordered Doremus.
get out.”
The man did not move.
“If you don't go out I’ll throw you out,” declared Doremus, though tha
man was twice as big as he. "You've got a minute to get out and thirty sec-
onds of your time is already up.”
For some strange reason the man got up and moved out.
"What if he hadn't gone?” Doremus was asked.
"Well." he answered, "1 suppose 1 would simply have had to give him
an extension of time.”
1 11 give you Just one minute to
Lieut. Sir Ernest H. Shackleton.
head of the British Antarctic expedi-
tion, will be compelled to remain an-
other year near the south end of the-
earth, according to word brought to
New Zealand by the Aurora, one of
his vessels, which was driven tack
by storms.
The adventure of Lieutenant
Shackleton had a three-fold purpose—
to navigate the Antarctic on a me-
ridian; to secure for the British flag
the honor of being the first national
emblem thus to be taken from sea to
sea across this South pole realm, and
to conduct scientific work relating,
among other phases, to meteorology,
geography, geology and geodetic sur-
vey.
The expedition left England in
two sections about six weeks after
the European war began, but It was
not until early in January, 1915, after
delay due tc unfavorable Ice condi-
tions. that the party, headed by Sir Ernest himself, set off on a 1,700-mlle
voyage from South Georgia, an urlnheblted Island in the South Atlantic
ocean about 800 miles due east of Cape Horn, for Ross sea on the other side
of the South pole.
Sir Ernest sailed in the Endurance, a three-master, with auxiliary
engines which gave her a ten-knot speed. This vessel, of 360 tonB, was built
with "wooden walls" two feet thick of almost solid oak. Oak and pliant
pitch pine were the only woods employed.
RATTLER IS MUCH MALIGNED
Hated Reptile Not Nearly So Black as
He Has Been Painted by Those
Who Do Not Like Him.
Rare, indeed, are wild creatures ot
this continent which are capable of
causing (be fee/ and respect that the
rattlesnake causes.
A big part of the fear Is unfounded.
He’s dangerous, but there's no use of
being frightened at him. In the first
place, he usually gives you an unmis-
takable warning, a little buzzing hiss
which he makes with his lull.
Hgj gives his warning with a set of
shell-like rattles on the end of his tail,
by which he is most easily distin
guished from other snakes. It used to
be a common belief that the snake
added a rattle each year and that you
could tell his age by the uumoer of
rattles Now It Is known that some-
times he will grow three rattles in a
year and that old snakes sometimes
lose a rattle or two.
His color varieu from yellowish
brown to dark brown The snake Is
darkest Just belore he sheds his skin,
which may be two or three times a
year. When he makes an attack ha
doesn’t "leap through the air,” and he
cannot strike farther than his own
length, usually not that far. Since the
common rattlesnake rarely grows be-
yond five feet in length, you see his
range is limited.
Nor is he so hungry for human flesh
as most persons would imagine. He’s
very well satisfied with his diet of
mice, rats—yes, and sometimes a squlr
rel or a rabbit. He eats enough mice
and rats every year to make him the
farmer's friend Instead of a hated
enemy.
KNOWN AS FRIEND OF BIRDS
Point to Consider.
"Dad,” said the prodigal son, “now
that i m home again and have nad my
tling, I m going to do something to
make you proud of me.”
"All right. 6on," answered the cau-
tious father. "That s the way ror you
to .alk, but I will reserve my con-
gratulations until you make one point
clear.
"Well, dad?”
“How much Is this new venture of
yours going to cost me?”
William Dutcher Remembered for His
Unceasing Fight Against
Their Enemies.
In the American Magazine appeared
an article about William Dutcher, who
did more than any other American to
awaken people to the cruelty and stu
pidity of slaughtering beautiful and
useful birds. He and others finally
succeeded in having laws passed so
rar-reaching that they changed the
whole aspect of millinery In the hard
struggle Mr. Dutcher sacrificed his
health. Following is an extract from
the article about him:
"Nothing ever tired or discouraged
him Ending a day's work in his of-
fice, he would jump on a train to go
plre state passed the plumage law for-
bidding the sale of the wfiite badge of
cruelty.’
"He never wearied of preaching the
great value of insectivorous birds to
agriculture; yet the farmers and fruit
growers of the United States probably
never will realize bow much bis labors
benefited them. He cared not a fealb
er’s weight who got the glory for any
of his work, so long as it was accom
piished. Even the millinery dealers
and the 'game hog,’ while they fought
his reforms, admitted bis unselfish-
ness. There was nothing be would
not do for anyone who showed the
slightest inte.est in bis hobby.”
Was Thinker, Not Talker.
Customer—"I’ve been cheated,
thought vou said this parrot was
and do another harder Bay’s work be- | remarkable bird." Bird Fancier-
tore midnight among the legislators at | Yes. Bir. What 1 said was that he
Albany. Politicians lived in terror of i nad been brojgfit up In the company
this bird crank ’ The aigrette trade, j of learned men. and was full of phi-
which be fought from the first, spiked ! losophy and scholarship. Of course,
his guns when It could with a paid | he don't talk. Mere idle words have
lobby. He got hard knocks and many
defeats, but in 1910 his efforts were
His Part.
Officer—"Y’our borse seems very
familiar to me. Higgins.” Private—
”1 don't wonder, sir, seeing the times
he brought you from the club. Why,
you've kissed 'im before you went up
the steps "
Motorcyclist Riding Nightmare.
C. H. Sargent, a motorcycle racer
of Indianapolis, suffered a broken leg
in a race at Vincennes, Labor day,
and was In the hospital there for sev-
eral weeks.
He had a bad night shortly after be-
ing taken to the hospital. The ward
was quiet when the whole hospital
i was startled by hearing Sargent yell:
| “Hold her, Newt, hold her!" a catch
; saying among motorcyclists when a
machine seems to be going too fast
i for the rider.
One of the Internes came rushing
j In, fearful that Sargent would fall out
of bed. When he reached Sargent the
latter was lying comfortably with a
rather foolish look on his face.
“Did you call?” asked the interne.
"Why, no.” said Sargent, "but 1
could use a drink of water."
I
When Senator John W. Kern was
a young lawyer at Kokomo, lnd.. he
represented one side of a case in
which the whole controversy hinged
on the identity and ownership of a
certain calf.
The chief witness on the side
against Kern was a colored man. He
contended that the calf belonged to
hiB friend. Mr. Jones. WheD Kern ex-
amined him the conversation ran
something like this:
“How do you know this was Mr.
Jones' calf?”
’’Well. Bah. I had seen It around
his place so much that I Jes’ natu’lly
got acquainted with It. I seen It there
with the cow—Its maw—and I no-
ticed it p’ticu’ly because it had funny
marks on it. When you see a calf
cv’ry day you simply become familyah
with it."
"What kind of a looking calf was
It?"
"It was a rc1 calf. sab. with white ears and a white nose."
“You re sure It had white ears and a white nose?”
"Yes, sah, teat’s what attracted ay notice, sah. them white cars and
white nose.”
"And it belonged to Mr. Jones?"
"Yessah.”
"And he had no other calf?"
"No, sah, Jes’ the one with the white ears and nose.”
"Now. supiiose that all the testimony here should show that tho calf in
this case was a white calf with red ears and a red nose. What would you
i say about that?”
"Well, sah, l reckon I’d say It belonged to Mlstah Jones."
Ms.' /*
| crowned with success when the Em
no attraction for him 3ut he s a re-
markable parrot because ties » great
thinker.”
American Linotype to Africa.
The first American linotype machine
; nag recently arrived In Tripoli, Af-
rica, and been installed by La Nuova
j Italia, the only newspaper in tho
l colony.
Apple operators In all parts of the country are facing heavy logse
they are the owners of stock. Sales on the dock now average $1 50 loss
every barrel sold. According to the report of tho International Apple £
pers’ association there were held In the United States on February 1, 6,
000 barrels of apples. This Is 1,000,000 barrels more than were held at
jurne time last year.
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The Copan Leader. (Copan, Okla.), Vol. 1, No. 13, Ed. 1 Friday, April 21, 1916, newspaper, April 21, 1916; Copan, Oklahoma. (https://gateway.okhistory.org/ark:/67531/metadc950808/m1/2/: accessed April 24, 2024), The Gateway to Oklahoma History, https://gateway.okhistory.org; crediting Oklahoma Historical Society.