North Carolina Newspapers

VOL. XLII C.tl Rid of Tan, Sunburn and Freckles by using HAGAN*S Magnolia Balm. Acts instantly. Stops the burning. Clears y our complexion of Tan and Blemishes. You cannot know how good it is until you try it. Thous ands of women say it is be& of all beautiiiers and heal* Sunburn Quickest Don't be without it a ay longer. Get a bottle now. At your Druggist or by mail direct 75 cents for either color. White. Pink, Rose-Red. SAMPLE FREE. LYON MFG. CO., 40 So. Sth St., Brooklyn. N.Y. I ktREKA J Spring Water | j! [ from : :: EUREKA SPRING, j Graham, N. C. JI A valuable mineral spring ' > has been discovered by W. it. II Ausley on his place in Uraham. , JI It was noticed that it brought J I • health to the users oi the waier, „ > and upon being analyzed it was ,! ! [ found to be a water strong in J; *» mineral properties and good > for stomach and blood troubles. | J! Physicians who have seen the ' » analysis and what it does, 4 i > recommend its use. a J J Analysis and testimonials J ; will be turnished upon request. J ii Why buy expensive mineral j !! waters from a distance, when i ' J there is a good water recom- J > mended by physicians right at !! home 'i i'or further inlorma- ~ J | tion and or the water, if you J; (> desire if apply to the under- i ! signed. ! II W. H. AUSLEY. ; [ ► «»»»♦♦♦♦♦«••••••• Sale of Valuable Land. Under- and by virtue of aa order of the Superior Court of Alamance County, made in the special pro ceeding entitled John R. Hoffman, Administrator of Daniel Heck, de ceased, petitioner against C. W. Keck and others, respondents, the same being No upon the Spe cial Procedings Docket of said Court, the undersigned commission ers will on MONDAY, JANUARY 22,. 19*, at 2 o'clock p. m., at the court house door, in Graham, N C., offer for sale to the highest bidder following tract of land : Being one tract containing seventeen acres, more or less, situ ate on the south side of the old Salisbury road, just east of the Ala mance Balttle Ground ■, bounded on the west by Mike Shoffner, on the east and south by J. C. Kinney ana C. W. Keck, and fronting on the Salisbury road, and being the home place of the late Daniel Keck, on which is situate a dwelling ana out-houses. The above described tract of land will be sold upon the following terms, to-wit: One-third in casn on day of sale, one-third to be paia in four months, and the remaining one-third to be paid in eight months from date of sale, deferred payments to bear interest at six per cent, per annum and the deea to said property to be made upon the payment of the full purchase price for said land; and the said purchaser may pay the entire pur chase price on date of sale and get deed to said property. This December 15, 1916. J. R. HOFFMAN, J. H. VERNON, Commissioners. BLANK BOOKS Journals, Ledgers, Day Books, Time Books, Counter Books, Tally Books, Order Books, Large Books, SmaU Books, Pocket Memo., Vest Pocket Memo., Ac. For Sale At The Gleaner PrlnUng Office Graham, N. C. Found I Sure Tiling. L. B. Wixon, Farmers Mills, N. Y„ has used Chamberlain's Tab lets for years for disorders of tha stomach and liver and says, "Cham berlain's Tablets are the best f have ever used. Obtainable every ■where, adv. THE ALAMANCE GLEANER, VsfiQ LOiHE" * STADMGM TflE BQRDm^^ "THE LIGHTOF WESTERN EMPURPLE CHAPTER X. In three days Duane was able with great difficulty to mount his horse. During daylight, by short relays, he and Jennie' rode back to the main trail, where they hid again till he had rested. Then In the dark they rode out of the canyons and gullies of the Illm Rock, and eftrly In the morning halted at the first water to camp. From that point they traveled after nightfall and went Into hiding during the day. Once across the Nueces River, Duane was assured of safety for her and great danger for himself. "Fever? How- Long Have We Been Here?" At last, far ahead over a barren mpv quite-dolted stretch of dusty ground, he espiTO a patch of green and a little flat, red runch-house. He headed his horse for It and turned a face he tried to make cheerful for Jennie's sake. She seemed both happy and sorry. When near at hand he saw that the rancher was a thrifty farmer. And thrift spoke for honesty. There were fields of alfalfa, fruit-trees, corrals, windmill pumps, lrrlgation-dltches, all surrounding a neat little adobe house. Some children were playing In the yard. The way they ran at the sight of Duane hinted to both the loneliness and the fear of their Isolated lives. Duane saw a woman come to the door, then a man. The latter looked keenly, then stepped outside. He was a sandy haired, freckled Texan. "Howdy, stranger," he called, as Doane halted. "Get down, you an' your woman. Say, now, air you sick or shot or what? Let me —" Duane, reeling In his saddle, bent searching eyes upon the rancher. He thought he saw good will, kindness, honesty. He risked all on that one sharp glance. Then he almost plunged from the saddle. The rancher cauglt him, helped him to a bench. "Martha, come out here!" he called. "This man's sick. 4 No; he's shot, or X don't know blood-stains." Jennie had slipped off her horse and to Duane's side. Duane appeared about to faint. "Air you his wife?" asked the rancher. "No. I'm only a girl he saved from outlaws. Oh, he's so pale! Duane, Duane!" "Buck Duane!" exclaimed the ranch er, excitedly. "The man who killed island an' Alloway? Say, I owe him a good turn, an' I'll pay it, young woman." The rancher's wife came out, and with a manner at once kind and prac tical essayed to make Duane drink from a flask. He was not so far gone that he could not recognize Its con tents, which he refused, and weakly asked for water. When that was given him he found his voice. "Yea, I'm Duane. I've only over done myself—just all In. The wounds I got at Bland's are healing. Will you take this girl In—hide her awhile till the excitement's over among the out laws?" j "I shore will," replied the Texan. I "Young man you ain't In any shape I to travel. I'll take you In along with | the girl, an' hide both of you till you get well." Duane's last fading sensations of that hard day were the strange feel of a bed, a relief at the removal of his heavy boota, and of Jennie's aoft, cool hands on hla hot face. • •••••• He lay ill for three weeks before he began to mend, and It waa another week then before he could walk out a little In the'dusk of the evening*. After that his strength returned rapid ly. And It was only at the end of thla long siege that he recovered his spirits. During most of his illness he had been silent, moody. "Jennie, I'll be tiding off soon," he said, one evening. "I can't Impose on this good man Andrews much longer. I'll never forget his kindness. Ills wife, to>o —she's been so good to us. Yes, Jennie, you and I will have to say good-by very soon." "Don't hurrjr awa//' she replied. GRAHAM, N. C., THURSDAY, JANUARY 11, L 917 Lately Jennie had npp*nri-l stninrre to him. She hu(l ehanpd from tlie girl he" used to see at Mrs. Blnnd'H house. He took her reluctance to say good-by as another Indication of her regret that he must go hack to the hrukes. Yet somehow' It made hiin observe her more closely. "It's likely that we won't see each other again," he said. "That's strange to think of. We've been through some hard days, and I seem to have known you a long time." Jennie appenred shy, almost sad, so Dunne change the subject to some thing less personal. ....««* returned one evening from a several days' trip to Huntsvllle. "Duane, everybody's talkln' about how you cleaned up the Bland outfit," he naid, Important and all full of news. "It's some exaggerated, accordln' to what you told rae; but you've shore made friends on this side of the Nueces. I reckon there ain't a town where you wouldn't find people to welcome you." - .. "Did you hear of any outlaws hunt frig me?" asked Duane. "Nobody from Bland's outfit Is bunt- In' you, thet's shore," replied Andrews. "Fisher said thene never was a boss straddled to go on your trail. Nobody had any use for Bland. Anyhow, his men would be afraid to trail you. An' you could go right In to Huntsvllle, where you'd be some popular. Iteckon you'd be safe, too, except where some of them fool saloon loafers or bad con-punchers would try to shoot you for the glory In It. Them kind of men will bob up everywhere you go, Duane." "I'll be able to ride and take care of myself In n day or two," went on Duane. "Then I'll go—l'd like to talk to you about Jennie." "She's welcome to a home here with us." "Thank you, Andrews. You're a kind man. But I want Jennie to get farther away from the Itlo Grande. She'd never be safe here." "All right, Dunne. Whatever you think best. I reckon now you'd better go north an' strike for Shelbyvllle. I'll tell Jennie the names of men who'll help h(&. You needn't rkle Into 'own at all," At fiuacet two days later Duane and Jennie mounted their horses and said good-by to the rancher and his wife. Andrews would not listen to Duane's thanks. "I tell you I'm beholden to you yet," he declared. "Well, what can I do for you?" asked Dunne. "I may come along here again some day." "Oet down an' come In, then, or you're no friend of mine. An' good luck to you both I" Duane and Jennie trotted away Into the gathering twilight. The sky was overcast with heavy clouds; there was no air moving; the heat and oppres sion threatened storm. By and by Duane could not see a rod In front of him, though his horse bad no difficulty In keeping to the road. To bis an noyance, however, a line, misty rain set In. Jennie was not well dressed for wet weotUer; and. for that matter, neither was he. Ills coat, which In that dry warm ell late be seldom needed, was tied behind his saddle, and he put It on Jennie. The night passed quickly despite the discomfort, and soon a gray, dismal, rainy dawn greeted the travelers. Jennie Insisted that be And some shelter where a fire "could be built to dry his clothes. He was not In a fit condition to risk catching cold. In fact, Duane's teeth were chattering. To find a shelter In that barren waste seemed a futile task. Quite unex pectedly, however, they happened upon a deserted adobe cabin situated a little off the road. Not only did It prove to have a dry Interior, but also there was firewood. Wafer was available In pools everywhere; however, there was no grass for tlie horse*. A good fire and hot food and drink changed the aspect of their condition as far as comfort went. Jennie slept while Duane watched. The saving of this girl meant more to him than any task he had ever as sumed. As he lookeil down upon her. a slight, slender girl with bedraggled dress and disheveled hair, tier face, [ pale and quiet, a little stern Iri rtleep, and her long, dark lashes lying on her cheek, he seemed to see her fragility, her prettlness, her femininity as never before. But for him she might ut that very moment have been a broken, ruined girl lying back In that cabin of the Blands. Tlie fact gave him n feel ing of his Importance In tills shifting of her destiny. Hhe was unharmed, still young; she would forget and he happy; she would live to l»e a gsxl wife and mother. Somehow the thought swelled bis heart. Ills act, death-dealing as It had been, was n nobl j one, nnd helped hl.ii to hold on to his drifting hopes. Hardly once since Jennie had entered Into hi* thought had those ghosts returned to tor|t>ent him. To-morrow s'ie would be gone among geod, kind people with a possibility of finding her relatives. He thanked God for that; nevertheless, lie felt a pong. About the middle it the afternoon Jennie awoke. They cooked a meal gnd afterward sat beside the little Jennie Slept While Duane Watched. fire. Sometimes when her eyes were on him she did not seem to be think ing of her freedom, of her future. "This time to-morrow you'll be In Shelbyvllle," he suld. "Where will you be?" she asked, quickly. "Me? Oh, I'll be making tracks for some lonesome place," he replied. The girl shuddered. "I've been brought up In Texas. I remember what a hard lot the men of my family had. Isut poor us they were, they had a roof over their heads, a hearth with a fire, a warm bed somebody to love them. And you Duane —oh', my God ! What must youi life be? You must ride and bide and watch eternally'' She ended with a sob and dropped her head on her knees. Duane was amazed, deeply touched. "My girl, thank you for that thought of me," he said, with a tremor in his voice. "You don't know how much that means to me." She raised her face, and it was tear stained, eloquent, beautiful. "I've heard tell—the best of men go to the bad out there. You won't. Promise me you won't. I never — knew any man —like you. I—l—we may never see each other again—after to-day. I'll never forget you. I'll pray for you, and I'll never give up trying to—to do something. Don't despair. It's never too late. It wus my hope liu.t kept me alive —out there at Wand's—before you came. I was only a poor weak girl. But if I could hope —so can you. Stay awny from men. I?e a lone wolf. Fight frtr your life. Stick out your exile —and maybe some day—" Then she lost her voice. Duane clatfped her hand and with feeling as deep as hers promised to remember her words. In her despair for him she had spoken wisdom—pointed out the onl* course. D'jane's vigilance, momentarily broken by emotion, .had no sooner re asserted itself than lie discovered the bay borne, the one Jennie rode, had brukwi his hjilter and gone off. The soft wet eurth had deadem-d the sound of his hoo.'s. Ills tracks were plain in the mud- Duane diJ not want to f eavc Jennie alone In the cabin HO nerr the road. So he put her on his hoise and bade her follow. The rain had ceased for | the time being, though evidently the ■ storm was not yet over. Vhe tracks ' led up a wash to a wide Hat where | ■ mesqulte, prickly pear, and thorn-bush : grew so thickly that Jennie could not ride Into It. He could not expect her ( I to scramble quickly through that brake I on foot. Therefore he devbh-d to risk ; leaving her ut the edge of the thicket and go in alone, i As he wen*. In ft sound start!.*! him. Was It the breaking of a branch he bad stepped on or thrust aside? He heard the Impatient pound of his home's hoofs. Then all was quiet. Still he listened, not wholly satisfied. I lie was never satisfied In regard to safety; he knew too well that there I never could be safety for hlin In this country. Certain he was now that some kind of danger threatened. | Suddenly there yime an unmistak able thump of horses' hoofs off some where to the fore. Then u scream rent the air. It ended abruptly. Duane IcafM'd forward, tore his way through the thorny brake. lie heard Jennie cry again—an appealing call quickly hushed. It seemed more to his rlglrt. and he plunged that way. He burst Into a glade where a smoldering ftre and ground covered with footprint* and tracks showed that campers had lately lx*en. Hushing across this, he broke his passage out to the open. liut he was too late. Ills horse had disappeared. Jennie was gone. There | were no riders In sight. There was no» sound. There was a heavy trail of horses going north. Jennie had been carried off- -probably by outlaws. Duane. realized that pursuit was out Of the question —that Jennie was lost. CHAPTER XI. A hundred miles from the haunts most familiar with Duane'* d«*eds, far ! up where the NUH*MI ran a trickling i cleat stream between yellow cliffs, 1 stood a small denerted shack of cover ' CMI mesqulte pole*. It had be**u made j long ago, but was well preserved. A I door faced the overgrown trail, and another faced down Into a gorge of i dense thicket*. On the border fugl ] lives from law and men who hid in fear of *orrieone they had wronged Dever lived In house* with only one J door. It was a wild spot, lonely, not fit | ' for human habitation except for the , I outcast. , i On clear dajs—and rare Indeed were cloudy days —with the »uh*ldlng of the wind at sunset a h'i«h s«*e»ned to fall around the litt!»« hut. Far-distant dim blue mountains Mood gold rluiined gradually to fade wlili the hading of light. ' I At this quiet hour a man climbed up out of the gorge and sat In the westward door of the hut. This lonely watcher of the west and listener to tho silence was Duane. And this hut was the one where, three years before, Jennie had nursed tilin buck to life. The killing of a man named Sellers, and the combination of circumstances that had made tlie tragedy a memor able regret, bad marked. If not a change, nt least a cessation In Duane's activities. He had trailed Sellers to kill him for the supposed abducting of Jennie. Vague rumors, a few words here and there, unauthentleated stor ies were ull that Duane had gathered In years to substantiate his belief —• that Jennie died shortly after the be ginning of her second captivity. Sellers might have told him. Duane expected, If not to force It from him nt the end, to read It In bis eyes. But the bullet went too unerringly; it locked Ills lips und fixed his eyes. After that meeting Duane lay long at the ranch-house of u friend, and when he recovered from the wound Sellers had given him lie started with two horses and a pactf for the lonely gorge on the Nueces. There he had been hidden for months, u prey to re morse, a dreamer, u victim of phantoms. It took work for him to find sub sistence In that rocky fastness. And work, action, helped to pass the hours. But he could not work all the time, .even If he bad found It to do. Then in his Idle moments and at night his task was to live with the hell In bis wind. The sunset and the twilight hour made all the rest bearable. The little hut on the rim of the gorge seemed to bold Jennie's presence. It was not ns If he felt her spirit. If It had been he would have been sure of her death. He hoped Jennie had not survived her second misfortune; afid that Intenso hope had burned Into belief. If not surety. A strange feature of this memory of Jennie was the freshness of It—tho failure of years, toll, strife, death dealing to dim It— deaden the thought of what might hate been, lie had a marvelous gift of visualization. He could shut Ids eyes and soy Jennie before him just us clearly as If she bad stood there In the flesh. For hours he did that, drentnlng. dreaming of life he bad never tasted and now never would taste. lie thought of her beauty and sweetness, of the few things which had come to mean to blm that she must have loved him; and he trained himself to think of these In preference to her life nt Bland's, the escape with him, and then her recapture, because such mem ories led to bitter, fruitless pain. He had to fight suffering because It wjis eutlng out bis heart. Sitting there, eyes wide open, he dreamed of the old homestead and his white-haired mother. He saw the old home-life, sweetened'and filled by dear new faces and added Joys, go on lie fore Ills eyes with blm a part of It. Then In the Inevitable reaction, In the reflux of bitter reality, he would send out a voiceless cry no less poignant because It was silent; "I'oor fool I No, I shall never see mother again—never go home —never linve a home. I am Duane, the Lone Wolf & A group nt specters trooped nut of the shadows of dusk and, gathering round blm. escorted him to his bed. Every one of his victims, slt>g'y and collectively, returned to blm for ever, It seemed, In cold, passionless, u'(-us ing domination. They did not accuse ■^ll^ For Hours He Did That, Dreaming. film of dishonor or cowardice or brutal ity or murder; they only iirfiiwfj hi in of *l**2llll. Jt won ii* If they kiH'w more limn when tli*»y were alive, had learn ed that life was a divine mysterious gift not to be token. They thronged about him with their voiceless clamor- drifted nround him 1 with their fading eye*. i After nearly six month* In tho Nueces gorge the loneliness and Inac tion of l»l* life drove Duane mit upon the trail* seeking anything rather than to hide longer Alone, a prey to the scourge of hi* thought*. The mo ment he r**de Into fright of men a re markahle transformation occurred In him. A * trance warmth *tlrred In him —u longing to see tli#* face* of people, to hear their voice*—a pleasurable emotion Mad and strange. But It waN only a precursor of hi* old bitter, sleepless, and eternal vigilance. Merc# r won the flr*t village he rode Into. .He had many frleAds there. Mereer claimed to owe Dunne a d»lft. On the outskirts of the village there wa* o grove overgrown by bru*h so that the rude-let jiost which mark *d It wa* wo reely visible to Intone a* he rode by. lie had never read the Inscription. But he thong* t now of llardln. lor many year* Hard in had hara**ed the stockmen and rohcherN In and around Mercer. On (iq pvll day for hi in he or his outlaws had" beaten nnd robbed o man who once succored Dunne when sore in ] need. Duane met Hardin in the little pin til of the village, culled him every name known to border men, taunted I him to draw, nnd killed him in the net j Duane went to the house of ouo j Jones', n Texan who had known his father, and there lie wiih warmly re ceived. The feel of an honest ha ml, I the voice of a friend, the prattle of children who were not afraid of hlhi or his gun, good wholesome food, and , change of clothes—these things for j the time being mnfle a changed man of Duane. To be sure, he did not often speak. The price of hi* head and tho weight of his burden made him silent. But eagerly he drank in all the news that was told him. In the years of hi. ahscntv from home he had never heard a word about his mother or uncle. Those who were his real friends on j the border would have been the last to make Inquiries, to write or receive letters that might give a clue to Dunnu's whereabouts. Duane remained all day with this ? hospitable Jones, and as twilight fell was loath to go and yielded to a press- i lng invitation to remain overnight. It was seldom Indeed that Duane slept under a roof. Early In the evening, while Duane sat on the porch with two j 9wed and hero-worshiping sons of tin* j house, Jones returned from a quirk ; visit down to the postoflice, Summar ily he sent the boys off. He labored under Intense excitement. "Duane, there's rangers In town," he ! whispered. "It's all over town, too, that you're here. You rode In Ifuig after sunup. Lots of people saw you. I don't believe there's a man or boy that 'd squeal on tyou. Hut the women might. Tliey gossip, and these rangers are handsome fellows—devils with the women." ** I •'What company of rangers?" askea . Duane, quietly. "Company A, under Captain Mac- j Nelly, that new ranger. He made a big name In the war. Ami since he's j been in the range service he's done ( wonders. He's cleaned up some bad ; places south, and he's working north." | "Mac Nelly. I've heard of him. De- J scribe him t.o me." "Sllght-bullt chap, but wiry and tough. Clean face, black mustache and hair. Sharp black eyes, lie's got a look, of authority. WacNclly's u Hue man, Duane. Belojigs t«y a good Southern family. I'trhuteJA have him look you up." Duane did not speak. "Mae.Nelly's got nerve, and his rang- j ers are all experienced men. If they find out you're here they'll come after you. Mae.Nelly's no gun lighter, but he wouldn't hesitate to do Ills duty, even If he faced sure death. Which he would In this chse. Duane, you mustn't meet Captain Mac Nelly. Your record Is clean, If it Is terrible. You never met a ranger or any oflleer ex cept a rotten sheriff now and then, I Ace Hod Brown." Still Duane kept silence. He was not thinking of danger, but of the fact of how fleeting must be his stay among friends. "I've already fixed up a pack of grub," went on Jones. "I'll slip out to saddle your horse. You watch here." He had scarcely uttered the last words when soft, swift footsteps bounded on the hard path. A man turned In the gate. The light was dim, yet clear enough tir*disclose an unusually tall figure. When It nl>- peured nearer he was seen to be walk ing with both arms raised, hands high, lie slowed Ills stride. "Does Burt Jones live here?" he asked, In n low, hurried voice. "I reckon. I'm Burt. What can I do for you?" replied Jones. The stranger peered around, stealth ily came closer, still with his hand* up. "It I* known that Buek Dunne Is here. 4'nptulii Mae.N'elly'* camping on the river Just out of town, lie sends word to Dqatie to come ofH there after dark." The stranger wheeled and departed a* swiftly and strangely u* lie had come. "Bust me! Duane, whatever do you make of that?" exclaimed Joiie*. "A new one on uie," replied Duane, j thoughtfully. * j "Kir*l fool thing I ever heard Mac Nelly doing. Can't make head nor tall* of It. Ud have said off luind that Mac Nelly wouldn't double-cross anybody, lit* struck me a square man, sand through. But hell! In- must mean treaehery. 1 can't see an> thing else In that deal," "Maybe the Captain want* to give roe a fair charier to surrender without bloodshed," observed Duane. "I'retty deeent of hi in. If he meant that." "He Invites you to route to his enrnp after dark. Something strange about this. Duane. [bit Mac Nelly's a new man 011J . here. J|e doe* some queer thing*. Perhaps In*'* getting a swelled head. Well. *uhnti«4K'r his Intention*, hi* presenee around Mercer 1* enough for u*. Duane, jou hit the rood and put Willie tulles between )oi| nlid the Amiable 'nptnio before daylight. To morrow I II go out tli«-r* and u*k him what In the d*TVII he meifnt." "That me**etiger he Kent he was a ranger," said Duane. ".Sure he uji*. and a nervy one! It must have taken synd to rome hrnelng you that way. Duane, the fellow didn't pnek a gun. I'll swear to that. I'retty odd. thl* trlek. But you can't trust It. Hit the rood,"Dunne." A little later n Mack horse with muffled hoofs, hearing a toll dork rider w ho p« • red keenly into every shadow, trotted down u pasture lane boek of Jonet' house, turned Into the road, and then, breaking Into swifter gait, rapidly left Mercer behind. CHAPTER XII. Next morning Duane was off again, working south. During the next few days lie paid brief \isit* to several villages that lay In hi* path. And In , ea» h some particular friend had a piece of news to Impart thaf made , profoundly thoughtful. A ranger had made a quiet, unobtrusive call -upon these friend* and h-ft this message, "Tell Buek Dunne to ride . Into Captain MaeNelly'* camp some time after night.'* Duane conclude*!, and hi* friends all agreed with him, that the new ranger's j main purpose In the Nueces country was to capture or kill Buck Duan,e, niul that tills message was simply an original und striking ruse, the during of which might appeal to certain out laws. • Tint It illil not nppeal to Duane. His curiosity was aroused; It did not, how ever, tempt him to any foolhardy act. lie turned southwest and rode a hun dred miles unlll he again reached the sparsely settled" country Hero he he.'ird mi more of rangers. lie got Into rough country, rode for three days without covering much ground, but believed that he was get ling on safer territory. Twice he came to a wide, bottom-land green with wil low and cottonwood and thick as chaparral, somewhere through the middle of which ran a river he de clded must be the lower Nueces. One evening as lie stole out from n covert where he had camped, he saw the lights of n village. He tried to pass It on the li ft, but as lie mounted a ridge he noted that the road made a sharp turn, and In- could not see what was jjeyonfl It. He slowed up and was making the turn, \vhleh was down hill between high banks of yellow clay, wlie;i bis mettlesome horse heard something to frlght.ui lilin or shied aj. something and bolted. The few hounds be took before liuime's Iron arm checked him were enough to remit the curve. One {{lashing glance showed Duane the open once more, n little valley below with n wide, shallow, roeky stream, a clump of roitiinw'i "lis beyond, a somber group of men facing "him, und two dark, limp, strungi-ly grotesque figures hanging from branches. The sight was common enough in southwest Texas, but limine had never before found himself so unpleasantly j Close. A bourse voice pealed out: "By belli Ulere's another one!" "Stranger, ride down an' account fer yourself!" yelled another, "Hands-up I" "Thel'g right, Jack; don't tuke no chances. Plug him!" These remarks were so swiftly ut tered as almost to be continuous, I>uano was wheeling his horse when a rllle cracked. The bullet struck his left forearm and he thought broke It, for he dropped the rein. The frighten ed horse leaped. Another bullet whistled past Duane. Then the bend In the road saved him probably from certain death. I.lke the wind Uln fleet steed went down the long hill. Dunne was In no hurry to look back. He knew what to expect. Ills chief concern Of the moment was for his Injured arm. He found that the bono were still Intact; but the wound, huv- Ing been made by a soft bullet, wus an exceedingly laid one, ISlood poured from It. Giving the horse his head, Duane wound bis scurf tightly round the holes, and with teeth and hand lied it tightly. That done, he looked buck over his shoulder. Itlders were 'nuking the dust fly on the hillside road. There were more coming round the cut where the roud curved, Duane needed only one glance to till 111 lit that they were fast and Imrd-ridlng cowboys In a land wheye all riders are good. They would not have owned any but strong, swift horses. Moreover, It was a district Vliere ranchers had suffered beyond till endurance the greed und brutality of outlaws. Duane hud simply been so unfortunate us to run right Into u lynching party at a time of uli times when any stranger would be In danger I and any outlaw put to his limit to escape with his life. Duane did not look hack again till lie had crossed the ridgy piece of i ground and lunl gotten to the level road, lie had gained upon his pur- Mil ls. Winn lie ascertained this h«f tried to save his horse, to check u little tlial killing gull. This horse was a magnificent animal, big, strong, fust; —-i— —— The Sight Wit Common Enough. I»»it 111h ciiduiuncp hud never been put i » n i;ru»'hf»g i«»*r. Ami that worried I 'tin in*. lifs lif*• had made It iuj pMM*ilhl«* t«i k«« j» oil i' horn#' very long lit u and thi-4 oim won uii un kii»• ii q . rjtry. TO HK COSTIN'TTRn. ONLY GREGORY IS LIKELLY TO RETIRE FROM CABINET Washington. Kvery member of President Wilson's Cabinet with tho possible ezr«*ptlon of Attorney Gen eral Gregory l« expected to remain In office after Mar h 4. when the presi dent's «#"-find term begins. It was Named definitely that all of them have hern or will be asked to keep their pond Reports concerning pos sible r# «ignatlons have centered chief ly around Secretaries McAdoo. Hous ton .Tii ! Hakerr and Gregory. A j»|i:ircntl v Mr. Lloyd George doe* not understand the state of mind of those numerous persons who s\v they wouldn't care to have Iws j^b. NO. 48 ICRAHAM CHURCH DIRECTORY, Preaching services every first and Third. Subdays at 11.00 a. m. and 7.30 p. m. Sunday School every Sunday at 1.45 a. m.—C. B. Irwin, Superin tendent. | Graham Christian Church—N. Main Street—Rev. J. F. Truitt, Preaching services every Sec ond and Fourth Sundays, at 11.04 a. m. Sunday School every Sunday at 10.00 a. m.—E. L. Henderson, Super intendent, New Providence Christian Church —North Main Street, near Depot- He v. J. G. Truitt, Pastor. Preach ing every Second and Fourth Sun day nights at 8.00 o'clock. Sunday School every Sunday at 9.45 a. m.—J. A. Bayliff, Superin tendent. Christian Endeavor Prayer Meet ing every Thursday night at 7.45. o'clock. Friends—North of Graham Pub lic School—Rev. Fleming Martin, Pastor. Preaching Ist, 2nd and 3rd Sun days. Sunday School every Sunday at 10.00 a. m.—James Crisco, Superin tendent. Methodist Episcopal, south—cop Main and Maple St., H. E. Myers Pastor. Preaching every Sunday at 11.00 t. m. and at 7.30 p. m. Sunday School every Sunday st 1.45 a. m.—W. B. Green, Supt. M. P. Church—N. Main Street, Rev. R. S. Troxler, P.istor. Preaching first and third Sun days at II a. m. and 8- p. m. Sunday School every Sunday at 9.45 a. in.—J. L. Amick, Supt. Presbyterian—Wst Elm Street- Rev T. M. McConnell, pastor. Sunday School every Sunday at 9.45 a. m.—Lynn B. Williamson, Su perintendent. Presbyterian iTravors Chapel)— I. W. Clegg, pastor. Preaching every Second and Fourth Sundays at 7.30 p. m. Sunday School every Sunday, at 2.30 p m.—J. Harvey White, Su perintendent. Oneida—Sunday School every Sunday at 2.30 p. m.—J. V. Pome roy, Superintendent, PROFESSIONAL CARDS E. C. DERBY Civil Engineer. GRAHAM, N. C.. National Bank ol Alamance BTd'f. BURLINGTON, N. C„ Room IS. Ist National Bank Building. 'Phone 47S JOHN J. HENDERSON Allorncy-at-Law GRAHAM, N. C. )fflcc over National Bank ol Alamance j", s. coos:, Attorney-at- Law, .RAHAM, .... . N. C. Ofllco Patterson Building Heoond Floor 1111. WILL S. LOM, JR. . . . DENTIST . . . irahsm .... North Carolina JFFICK in SJMMONS BUILDIKO JACOB A. LONG. J. KLMfcB LONQ, LONG & LONG, » •Vttornttjrn and C'ouiuw»lor« at liw GRAHAM, N. C. JOH N H. VERNON Atlurney and loui»»elor-al-l-an POftfcM -Oftre B6J Kealdenc* 431 Buhlinoton, N. C. Dr. J. J. Barefoot OFFICE OVfcK lIADLtl's BTOBI£ Leave Messages at Alamance Phar macy 'i'hone 07 Resilience 'Phone 382 Office Hours 2-4 p. in. and by Appointment. DR. G. EUGENE HOLT Osteopathic Physician 21. 22 and 71 I Iral National Bankk Bld|. BURUfJQTON, N Ci Stomach and Nervous diseases a Specialty. 'Phones, Office 305, —ret- idence, 362 J. . i Hellef In Hit lloura Distressing Kidney and bladdei Disease relieved in six hours by the "NEW GREAT SOUTH AMER ICAN KIDNEY CUKE." It it a great surprise on account of its exceeding Dromutness in reheting pain in bladder, kidneys and back, in male or female. Relieves reten- • tion of water almost immediately. If you want quick relief and cure this is the remedy. Sold by Gra* ham Drug Co. adv, LIVES OF CHRISTIAN MINISTERS This book, entitled as above, contains over 200 memoirs of Min isters in the Christian Church with historical references. An interesting volume—nicely print ed and bound. Price per copy: cloth, $2.00; gi!t. top, $2.50. By mail 20c extra. Orders may be sent to P. J. Kkrsodlk, 1012 K. Marshall St., Richmond, Va. Orders may be left at this office.