Newspapers / The Roanoke Beacon and … / Sept. 7, 1923, edition 1 / Page 8
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DESERT GOLD by Zane Grey Author of » Riders of the Purple K Satie, Wildfire, Etc. S SOOSCQOGOt icosoososoccocacca Copyright by Harper & Brothers. CHAPTER XVII—Continued. —17— Belding pondered. He did not now for a moment consider an accidental discharge of dynamite. Hut why had this blast been set off? The loose sandy soil had yielded readily to shovel; there were no rocks; as far ns construction of a ditch was con cerned such a blast would have done more harm than good. § Slowly, with reluctant feet. Belding walked toward a green hollow, where In a cluster of willows lay the never falling spring that his horses loved so well, and. Indeed, which he loved no less. He was just in time to see the last of the water. It seemed to sink as In quicksand. The shape of the hole had changea. The tremendous force of the blast had obstructed or diverted the underground stream of water. Belding’s never-failing spring had been ruined. What had made this^it tle plot of ground green and sweet and fragrant was now no more. Beld lng's first feeling was for the pity of It. He thought how many times in the middle ot hot summer nights he had come down to the spring to drink. Never again! The pall of dust drifting over him, the din of the falling water up at the dam, diverted Belding’s mind to the Chases. All at once he was in the harsh grip of a cold certainty. The blast had been set off intentionally to ruin Ids spring. What a hellish trick ! No westerner, no Indian or Mexican, no desert man could have been guilty of such a crime. To ruin a beautiful, clear, cool, never-failing stream of water in the desert! It was then that Belding’s worry and indecision and brooding were as If they had never existed. He went directly to his room, and with an air1 that was now final he buckled on his gun belt. He looked the gun over and tried the action. He squared himself and walked a little more erect. Some long-lost individuality had returned to Belding. Let s see, he was saying. ' ’ 1 can get Carter to send the horses I’ve got left hack to Waco to ray brother. I’ll make Nell take what money there Is and go hunt up her mother. The Gales are ready to go—today, if I say the word. Nell can travel with them part way East. That’s your game, Tqm Belding, don’t mistake me.” f As he went out he encountered Mr. <3a!e coming up the walk. The long •sojourn at Forlorn River, despite the fact that it’had been laden with a sus pense which was gradually changing to a sad certainty, had been of great benetit to Dick’s father. The dry air, the heat, and the quiet had made him. If not entirely a well man, certainly stronger than he had been in many years. ‘‘Belding, vvhnt was that terrible roar?” nsked Mr. Gale. "We were badly frightened un‘il Miss Nell came to us. We feared It was an earth quake.” “Well, I’ll tell you, Mr. Gale; we’ve had some quakes here, but none of them could hold a candle to this jar we Just had.” Then Belding explained what had caused the explosion, and why It had been set off so close to his property. Heavy steps sounded outside ou the flagstones, then the door rattled un der a strong knock. Belding opened It. The Chases, father and son, stood beyond the threshold. “Good morning, Belding,” said the elder Chase. “We were routed out early by that big ‘blast and came up to see what was wrong. All a blunder. The Greaser foreman was drunk yes terday, and his ignorant men made a mistake. Sorry if the blast bothered you. I was a little worried—you’ve always been so touchy—we never could get together. I hurried over, fearing maybe you might think the blast—you see, Belding—” “I see this, Mr. Ben Chase,” inter rupted Belding, in curt and ringing voice, “The blast was a mistake, the biggest you ever made in your life.” “What do you mean?” demanded Chase. “you’ll have to excuse me for a while, unless you’re dead set on hav ing it out right now. Mr. Gale and bis family are leaving, and my daughter Is going with them. I’d rather you’d wait a little.” ‘'Nell going away!” exclaimed Rad ford Chase. He reminded Belding of an overgrown boy in disappointment. “Yes. But—Miss Burton to you, young man—” “Mr. Belding. I certainly would pre fer a conference with you right now," Interposed the elder Chase, cutting short Belding's strange speech. “There are other matters—important matters to discuss. They’ve got to be settled. Mny we step in. sir?" “No, you may not,” replied Belding, bluntly. “I’m sure particular who I Invite Into my house. But I’ll go with jyou.” Belding stepped out and closed the door. “Come away from thd house so the women won't hear the—the talk.” The elder Chase was purple witV rage, yet seemed to be controlling It. The younger ’nan looked black, sullen, i '.inpatient. Ben Chase found his voire | about the time Belding halted under | the trees out of earshot from the house. "Sir. you’ve insulted me—my son. How dare you? I want you to under stand that you’re—” "Chop that kind of talk to me. you - - - -!’* inter rupted Bolding. He had always been profane, and now lie certainly did not choose his language. Chase turned livid, gasped, and seemed about to give way to fury. But something about Beld ing evidently exerted a powerful quiets ing influence. “If you talk sense I'll listen," went on Belding. “I want to make a last effort to pro pitiate you,” began Chase, in his quirk, smooth voice. That was a singular change to Belding—the dropping In stantly into an easy flow of speech. “You’ve had losses here, and naturally you're sore. I don’t blame you. But you can’t see this thing from my side of the fence. Business is business. In business the best man wins. The law upheld those transactions of mine the honesty of which you questioned. Now I want to run that main ditch along the river, through your farm. Can’t we make a deal? I’m ready to be lib eral—to meet you more than halfway. I’ll give you an interest in the com pany. I think I’ve influence enough up at the capitol to have you reinstated as Inspector. A little reasonableness on your part will put you right again In Forlorn Itlver, with a chance of grow ing rich. There's a big future here. . . . My interest, Belding, lias become personal. Radford is In love with your stepdaughter. He wants to marry her. Now let’s get together not only in busi ness, but in a family way. If my son’s happiness depends upon having this girl, you may rest assured I’ll do all I can to get her for him. I’ll absolutely make good all your losses. Now what do you say?" "No,” replied Belding. “Your money can’t buy a right of way across my ranch. And Nell doesn’t want your son. That settles that." "But you could persuade her.” “I won’t, that’s all.” “May I ask why?” Chase’s voice was losing its suave quality, but It was even swifter than before. “Sure. I don’t mind your asking,” replied Belding, In slow deliberation. He Was Just in Time to See the Last of the Water. “I wouldn’t do such a low-down trick. Besides, if I would, I’d want it to be a man I was persuading for. I know Greasers—I know a Yaqui I’d rather give Nell to than your son.” Radford Chase began to roar in inar ticulate rage. Belding paid no atten tion to him; indeed, he never glanced at the young man. The elder Chase checked a violent start. “My son’s offer of , marriage is an honor—more an honor, sir, than you perhaps are aware of.” Belding made no reply. He waited coldly, sure of himself. "Mrs. Belding’s daughter has no right to the name of Burton,” snapped Chase. “Did you know that?” “I did not,” replied Belding, quietly. “Well, you know it now,” added Chase, bitlngly. “Sure you can prove what you say?” queried Belding, in the same cool, un emotional tone. It struck him strange ly at the moment what little knowledge this man had of the West and of west ern character. “Prove it? Why, yes, I think so, enough to make the truth plain to any reasonable man. I come from Peoria —was born and raised there. I went to school with Nell Warren. That was your wife's maiden name. She was a beautiful, gay girl. I knew Bob Burton well. lie was a splendid fellow, but wild. Nobody ever knew for sure, but we all supposed he was engaged to marry Nell. He left Peoria, however, and soon after that the truth about Nell came out. She ran away. It was at least a couple of months before Bur ton showed up in Peoria. He did not stay’Tong. Then for years nothing was heard of either of them. When word did come Nell was in Oklahoma, Bur ton was in Denver. There’s a chance, of course, that Burton followed Nell and married her. That would account for Nell Warren taking the name of Burton. But it isn’t likely. None of us ever heard of such a thing and wouldn't have believed it if we hail. In a moment of amazement—when I recognized your wife as an old school mate—I blurted the thing out to Rad ford. You see now how little It mat ters to me, when I ask your stepdaugh i ter’a hand in marriage for my son.” i Belding stood listening. The genuine emotion In Chase's voice was as strong as the ring of truth. Belding knew truth when he heard It. “So you told my wife you'd respect her secret—keep her dishor " from her husband and daughter?” demanded Belding, his dark guze sweeping back from the lane. “What! I—I—’’ stammered Chase. “You made your son swear to be a ( man and die before he’d hint the thing to Nell?” went on Belding, and his J voice rang louder. Ben Chase had no answer. The red left his face. His son slunk back against the fence. “1 say you never held this secret over the heads of my wife and her ! daughter?” thundered Belding. He had his answer in the gray faces, !n the lips that fear made mute. Like a flash Belding saw the whole truth of Mrs. Belding’s agony, the reason for her departure; he saw what lmd been driving Nell; and it seemed that all the dogs of hell were loosed within Ills heart. He struck out blindly, instinc tively in his pain, and the blow sent Ben Chose staggering into the fence corner. Then he stretched forth a long arm and whirled Bmlford Chase back beside his father. “And now, gentlemen,” went on Bel ding, speaking low and with difficulty, "seeing I’ve turned down your proposi tion, I suppose you think you’ve no more call to keep your mouths shut?” The elder Chase appeared fascinated by something he either saw or felt In Belding, and his gray face grew grayer. He put up a shaking linnd. Then Rad ford Chase, livid and snarling, burst out: “I'll talk till I'm black in the face. You can’t stop me!” “You’ll go black In the face, hut it won't be from talking,” hissed Belding. llis big arm swept down, and when he threw It up the gqn glittered in his hand. Simultaneously with the latter action pealed out a shrill, penetrating whistle. The whistle of a horse ! It froze Beld ing’s arm aloft. For an instant he could not move even his eyes. The familiarity of that whistle was terri ble In Its power to rob 1dm of strength. Then he heard the rapid, heavy pound of hoofs, and again the piercing whistle. “Blanco Plablo!” he cried, huskily. He turned to see a huge white horse come thundering into the yard. A wild, gaunt, terrible horse; indeed, the loved Blanco Diablo. A bronzed, long haired Indian bestrode him. More white horses galloped into the yard, pounded to a halt, whistling home. Belding saw a slim shadow of a girl who seemed all great black eyes. Then Nell came rushing from the house, her golden hair flying, her hands outstretched, her face wonder ful. “Dick! Dick! Oh-h-h, Dick!” she cried. Her voice seemed to quiver In Belding's heart. Belding’s eyes began to blur. He was not sure he saw clearly. Whose face was this now close before him— a long thin, shrunken face, haggard, tragic in its semblance of torture, al most of death? But the eyes were keen and kind. "I shore am glad to see you all,” said a well-remembered voice in a slow, cool drawl. CHAPTER XVIII Reality Against Dreams. Dick Gale was standing bowed over Nell’s slight form, almost hidden In his arms. Belding hugged them both. He was like a boy. He saw Ben Chase and his son slip away under the trees, but the circumstances rneunt nothing to him then. “Dick i Dick!” he ronred. “Is It you? . . . Say, who do you think’s here— here, in Forlorn River?” It was then three more persons came upon the scene—Elsie Gale, running swiftly, her fattier assisting Mrs. Gale, who appeared about to faint. “Belding! Who on earth’s that?" cried Dick, hoarsely. “Quien sabe, my son,” replied Beld ing; and now his Voice seemed a little shaky. “Nell, come here. Give him a chance.” Belding slipped his arm round Nell, and whispered in her ear. “This’ll be great!” Elsie Gale’s face was white and agi tated, a face expressing extreme .toy. “Oh, brother! Mamma saw you— papa saw you, and never knew you! But I knew you when you jumped quick—that way—off your horse. And now I don’t know you. You wild man! You giant! You splendid barbarian ! . . . Mamma, papa, hurry! It Is Dick! Look at him. Just look at him ! Oh-h, thank God !” Belding turned away and drew Nell with him. In another second she and Mercedes were clasped in each other’s arms. Then followed a time of joyful greetings all round. Diablo found his old spirit; Blanco Bol tossed his head and whistled ids satisfaction; White Woman pranced to and fro; and pres ently they all settled down to quiet grazing. How good it was for Belding to see those white shapes against the rich background of green! His eyes glistened. It was ji sight he had never expected to see again. He lingered there many moments when he wanted to hurry back to his rangers. At last he tore himself away from watching Blanco Diablo and returned to the house. It was only to find that he might have spared himself the hur ry. Jim and Ladd were lying on the beds that had not held them for so many months. Their slumber seemed as deep and quiet ns death. Curiously Belding gazed down upon them. They had removed only boots and chaps. Their clothes were in tatters. Jim ap peared little more than skin and bones, a long shape, dark and hard as iron. Ladd’s appearance shocked Belding. The ranger looked an old man, blasted, shriveled, starved. About the middle of the forenoon on thp following day the rangers hob bled out of the kitchen to the porch. "I’m a sick man, I tell you," Ladd was complaining, ‘‘an’ I gotta be fed. Soup 1 Beef tea I That ain't so much as wind to me. I want about a barrel of bread an’ butter, an’ a whole plan ter of mashed potatoes with gravy an' green stuff—all kinds of green stuff— an' a whole big apple pie. Give me everythin’ an' anythin' to eat but meat. Shore I never, never want to taste meat again, an' sight of a piece of sheep meat would jest about finish me. . . . Jim, you used to be a human bein’ that stood up for Charlie Ladd.” “Laddy, I’m lined up beside you with both guns,” replied Jim, plaintively. “Hungry? Say, the smell of break fast in that kitchen made my mouth water so I near choked to death. I reckon we're gettin’ most onhuman treatment.” “But I’m a sick man,” protested Ladd, "an' I'm agoin' to fall over In a minute if somebody don’t feed me. Nell, you used to be fond of me.” “Oh, Laddy, I am yet,” replied Nell. “Shore, I don’t believe it. Any girl with a tender heart just couldn’t let a man starve under her eyes. . , . Look at Dick, there. I'll bet he's had something to eat. mebbe potatoes an' gravy, an’ pie an—” “Laddy, Dick lias had no more than I gave you—Indeed, not nearly so much.” ,, “Shore he's had a lot of kisses then, for he hasn’t hollered onct about this treatment.” “Perhaps he has,” said Nell, with a blush; “and If you think that—they would help you to he reasonable I might—I’ll—” “Well, powerful fond ns I am of you, just now kisses’ll have to run second to bread an’ butter.” “Oh, Laddy, what a gallant speech 1’ laughed Nell. “I'm sorry, but I've dad's orders.” “Laddy,” interrupted Belding, “you've got to be broke in gradually to eating. Now you know that. You’d be the se verest kind of a boss if you had some starved beggars on your hands.” “But I’m sick—I’m dyin’,” howled Ladd. "You were never sick in your life, and If all the bullet holes I see In you couldn’t kill you, why, you never will die.” "Can I smoke?” queried Ladd, with sudden animation. “My Gawd, I used to smoke. Shore I’ve forgot. Nell, if you want to be reinstated in my gal lery of angels, just find me a pipe an’ tobacco.” “I've hung onto my pipe,” said Jim, thoughtfully. “I reckon I had it emp ty in my mouth for seven years or so, wasn’t it, Laddy? A long time! I can see the red lava an’ the red haze, an' the red twilight creepin’ up. It was hot an’ some lonely. Then the wind, and always that awful silence! An’ always Ynqui watchin’ the west, an' Laddy with Ills checkers, an’ Mer cedes burnin’ up, wastin’ away to nothin’ but eyes! It’s all there—I’ll never get rid—” “Chop that kind of talk,” Interrupt ed Belding, bluntly. “Tell us where Yaqui took you—wlmt happened to Rojas—why you seemed lost for so long.” "I reckon Lnrtdy can tell all tlmt best; but when it come to Rojas’ fin ish I’ll tell what I seen, an’ so'll Dick an’ Thorne. Laddy missed Kojas’ fin ish. Bar none, that was the—” “I’m a sick man, but I can talk,” put in Ladd, “an’ shore I don’t want the whole story exaggerated none by Jim.” Ladd filled the pipe Nell brought, puffed ecstatically at it, and settled himself upon the bench for a long talk. He talked for two hours— talked till his voice weakened tp u husky whisper. At the conclusion of his story there was an Impressive si lence. Then Elsie Gale stood up, and with her band on Dick's shoulder, her eyes bright and warm as sunlight, she showed the rangers What a woman thought of them and of the Yaqul. Nell clung to Dick, weeping silently. Mrs. Gale was overcome, and Mr. Gale, very white and quiet, helped her up to her room. Early in the afternoon of the next day Belding encountered Dick at the water barrel. “Belding, this is river water, and muddy at that,” said Dick. “Lord knows I’m not kicking. But I’ve dreamed some of our cool running spring, and I want a drink from it.” “Never again, son. The spring’s gone, faded, sunk, dry as dust.” “Dry!” Gale slowly straightened. “We’ve had rains. The river's full. The spring our to be overflowing. What’s wrong? Why is it dry?” “Dick, seeing you’re interested, I may as well tell you that a big charge of nitroglycerin choked my spring.” “Nitroglycerin?” echoed Gale. Then he gave a quick start. “My mind’s been on home, Nell, my family. But all the same I felt something was wrong here with the ranch, with you, with Nell. . . . Belding, that ditch there is dry. The roses are dead. The little green in that grass has come with the rains. Wliat’s happened? The ranch’s run down. Now I look around I see a change.” "Some change, yes,” replied Belding, bitterly. “Listen, son.” Briefly, but not the less forcibly for that, Belding related his story of the operations of the Chases. With deep voice that had many a break and tremor he told Gale how Nell had been hounded by Radford Chnse, how her mother had been driven by Ben Chase—the whole sad story. “So that’s (he trouble! Poor little girl!” murmured Gale, brokenly. “I felt something was wrong. Nell wasn’t natural, like her old self.” “It was hard on Nell,” said Bolding, simply. "But it’ll be bett« mow you’re here. Dick, I know the Kiri. She’ll re fuse to marry you and you'll have n hard Job to break her down, as hard as the one you just rode in off of. I think I know you, too, or I wouldn’t he saying—’’ "For God’s sake, you don’t believe what Chase said?” queried Gale, in passionate hnste. “It’s a lie. I swear it’s a lie. I know it’s a lie. And I’ve got to tell Nell this minute. Come on In with me. I wnnt you, Beiding. Oh, why didn’t you tell me sooner?” Beiding felt himself dragged by an Iron arm into the sitting room, out intd the patio, and across that to where Nell sat in her door. At sight of them she gave a little cry, drooped for an in stant, then raised a pale, still face, with eyes beginning to darken. "Dearest, I know now why you nre not wearing my mother’s ring,” said ; Gale, steadily and low-voiced. “Dick, I am not worthy,” she re plied, and held out a trembling hand with the ring lying in the palm. Swift ns light Gale caught her hand and slipped the ring hack upon the third finger. “Nell f Look at me. It is your en gagement ring. . . . Listen. I don’t ! believe this—this thing that’s been tor- ' turing you. I know it’s a lie. I am absolutely sure your mother will prove It a lie. She must have suffered enoe— perhaps there was a sad error—bdt the thing you fear is not true. But, hear me, dearest; even If It was true it wouldn’t make the slightest difference to me. I wnnt you all the more to be my wife—to let me make you forget— to—’’ She rose swiftly with the passionate abandon of a woman stirred to het depths, nnd she kissed him. “Oh, Dick, you’re good—so good I You’ll never know—just what those words mean to me. They’ve saved m4 —I think.” “Then, dearest, It’s all right?” Dick questioned, eagerly. “You will keep your promise? You will marry me?” The glow, the light,faded out of her face, and now the blue eyes were al most black. She drooped and shook her head. They had forgotten Beiding, who stepped back Into the shade. “I love you wdth my whtile heart and soul. I’d die for you,” whispered Nell, with clenching hands. “But I wTon’t disgrace you. Dick, you give not one thought to your family. Would they receive me as your wife?’’ “They surely would,” replied Gale, steadily. “No 1 oh no!” “You’re wrong, Nell. I’m glad you said that. You give me a chance to prove something. I’ll go this minute and tell them all. I’ll be back here in less than—” “Dick, you will not tell her--your mother?” cried Nell, with her eyes streaming. “You*will not? Oh, I can’t bear it! She’s so proud! And, Dick, I love her. Don’t tell her! Please, please don’t! She’ll he going soon. She needn’t ever know—about me. Please don’t go!” “Nell, I’m sorry. I hate to hurt you. But you’re wrong. You can’t see things clearly. This is your happiness I’m fighting for. And it’s my life. . . , Walt here, dear. I won’t be long.” Gale ran across the patio and dis appeared. Nell sank to the doorstep; and as she met the question in Bel ding’s eyes she shook her head mourn fully. They waited without speaking. It seemed a long while before Gale re turned. Belding thrilled at sight o' him. There was more boy about him than Belding had ever seen. Dick wa:| coming swiftly, flushed, glowing, eager, erect, almost smiling. “I told them. I swore It was a lie, but I wanted them to decide as If l'{ were true. I didn’t have to waste u minute on Elsie. She loves you, Nell, The governor is crazy about you. 1 didn't have to waste two minutes on him. Mother used up the time. Shu wanted to know all there was to tell. She is proud, yes; but, Nell, l wish you could have seen how she took the —the story about you. Why, she never thought of me at all, until she had cried over you. Nell, she loves you, too. They all love you. Oh, It’s sq good to tell you. I think mothat realizes the part you have had in tint —what shall I call It?—the regenera tion of Richard Gale. Bpesn’t thai( sound fine? Darling, mother- not only consents, she wants you to be my wifa. Do you hear that? And listen—she had me in a corner and, of course, beinjj my mother, she put on the screws. Shu made me promise that we’d live in thu East linlf the year. That means Chi cago, Cape May, New York—you see, I’m not exactly the lost son any more, j Why, Nell, dear, you’ll have tn learn | w-ho Dick Gale really is. But I al ways want to be the ranger you helped me become, and ride Blanco Sol, and see a little of the desert. Don’t let thu idea of big cities frighten you. We’ll always love the open places best. Now, j Nell, say you’ll forget this trouble. 1 know it’ll come all right. Say you’ll marry me soon. . . . Why, dearest you’re crying. . . . Nell!” (TO BE CONTINUED.) Music for Starving Russians. A traveler who recently made a tou, through the principal cities of Russlu j says that, while they are starving, there is music in all the great center*. Opera and orchestra are to be found everywhere and the concerts are all well attended. In most cases the per. formances are free and are very well attended, but It often happens thal both the performers and those In thu audience are on the verge of stnrva. tlon. There are also good audience!/ at the concerts where an admission In charged. The government encourage,/ music because It Is clnimed that It hnu a deckled cheering effect on the mast of unfostuaates of that country. would soothe that itching skin The first application of Resinol Oint ment usually takes the itch and bum right out of eczema and similar skin affections. This gentle, healing oint ment seems to get right at the root of the trouble, and is almost sure to .re store skin health in a short time. Retinol Ointment tod Soap at all druggists. im _ /EYES DISFIGURE yOUR* I Looksf Z5f„ Don't aiporlrront on them, uso MITCHELL EiiS SALVE for speedy relief. Absolutely safe. at all druggists. A $2 Treasure Package for $1 Send at once for this wonderful assortment, containing a large bottle of Eau de Quinine Hair Tonic, a large bottle of Coconut Oil Shampoo and a large bottle of delightfully sjented LaFrance Lilac Toilet Water. This 12.00 value sent on receipt of $1.00 or mailed C. O. D. by parcel post. W. S. HOLLAND CO. Norristown, Pa. Cat Saved Young Foxes. Three young foxes, valued at sev eral hundreds of dollars, which were slowly starving to death on a farm at Mile 1’ost 80, on the Port Arthur & Duluth railway, have been nearly restored to health and strength by the care of a common house cat. It was selected from several offered by local people in response to a newspaper ad vertisement. The foxes’ mother, her self worth about 8800, was killed ih a fight. CHILDREN CRY FOR “CJSTORIA” Especially Prepared for Infants and Children of All Ages Mother! Fletcher’s Castoria hasl been In use for over 30 years to relieve babies and children of Constipation, Flatulency. Wind Colic and Diarrhea; allaying Feverishness arising there from, and, by regulating the Stomach and Bowels, aids the {assimilation of Food; giving natural sleep without opiates. The genuine bears signature COULD NOT.PAY THE CHECK Unfortunate Indeed When the Lady Was Desirous of Making a Good Impression. For two years I lived in a town that supported the most active set of gos sips I ever encountered; you know— the sort of place where you hate to be the first one to leave a party be cause you know what the rest of them are going to do to you after you have gone. Soon after I left one of the town’s most prominent gossips varied a friend in my city. I said to my family that 1 should have to do something to entertain her, otherwise she would go home and talk about how mean 1 was, so I invited her to have lunch- / eon at quite a nice place, my Inten tion being to swank a little so she wouldn’t have a chance to report any thi' " unfavorable. When we met as arranged, I was surprised to see her friend with her, and more surprised when said friend went right along with us into the res taurant. Between them they ordered a somewhat lavish luncheon, and when the check was presented to me I was short the miserable sum of 15 cents, and I had to borrow from ray guest. X know the town had a fruitful topic of conversation for a long, long time.—Chicago Tribune. Some men attempt so much that they never get anything finished. Nervous ? If Coffee disagrees Drink Postum There's a Reason" r
The Roanoke Beacon and Washington County News (Plymouth, N.C.)
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Sept. 7, 1923, edition 1
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