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, ieamp last year. \[+ } XCI people know { Vgéihout you. | ADVERTISE f SociAL LiFE ON THE BORDER, Officers of the National Guard, sent to the Brownsville section of the Mexican horder, were ycel- med at a luncheon at the Brownsville Country Club, given by Mrs. John H. Muneaster, wife of Lieut, Muncaster, U. S. Army. The photograph, taken at this reception, shows among others, Major General J. F. O'Ryan; General James Parker, U. 8. A.; Brigadier General William S. MeXNair; Major Cornel- G Vanderbilt, Major Edward Olmstead, Captain L.. P. Butler and Lieut. J. H. Muncaster, F111] SERVICE . ah 270272 ete itso its nil) «Gn alerts ide BeBe e if eels oBe ats ele een rte Te oa ats erly sate an tct M A ate SCG ve C s Ce % % 2 0g: . - a 0:0 'W. - - . PJ % ' - * 0:1 & Lr Frank W, Harris, Representative. Phone No. 4 and 278-W, '§' ...... iQ. & * The Times [g on sale at Blackall's News Rooms at Postoffice, g: . to 6 Cheesman's News Rooms, * tut 6 News Items, Advertisements and Complaints Given Immediate % Attention by Mr. Harris. a % n* T inGapaRe Bec Test ate itr a 12s ats te Peca Pont teat 12s 000200200 1..:u;up.zuzugnznguyyzuzuznygé MAKING PLANS FOR p LABOR DAY CELEBRATION r ® . The committee who have the La- Bor Day celebration in charge held a mesting last evening in Trades' As- sembly rooms, and it was learned that the soliciting committees are busy at work and that by the next meeting a weport will be given. U g, 'A large camping party from New \York has arrived on their large cruis er and pitched camp about two miles south of this place on the west side of the river. They occupied the same CAMPERS ARRIVE. #. F IMPROVING M'MAHON BLOCK, ' Work was resumed yesterday on the McMahon block. Marble slabs are be- ng placed under the show windows. 'The entrance is also being completed and the large door hung. | BOY IS IMPROVING F The young son of Mr. and Mrs. Ly. an Durkee, who was run over by the otter delivery wagon, is improving. 4. + -__ UNcLaImEp Letters. f A Ietter for A. J. O'Neil is unclaim- ded at the local postoffice. __ BANSHES ._ NERVOUSNESS (Puts Vigor and Ambition Into '\ - Run.Down, Tired Out - People, hur lifncal LOCALS AND PERSONALS Mrs. Oscar Pratt has returned from a stay in Norwalk, Conn., and Spring field, Mass. « Frank Hoysrandt and family motor ed to Valley Falls yesterday. Mr. and Mrs. J. J. Griffin, Mr. and Mrs. H. G. High are spending a week with friends in Valley Falls. Mre. W. H. Groat of Schenectady, is visiting in fown. Mr. and Mrs. Edward Moon of Lake George, were in town yesterday on business. Mr. and Mrs. D. T. McCormick, Stewart Mosher and Harold LaMarche spent the week-end at Lake Bomoseen. Miss Anne Hoey of Saratoga, is the guest of Mr. and Mrs. Frank T. Hoey,. McCrea street. A. M. Burdett is spending a week in Albany on business. Miss Alice Turner is working in the Burdett store this week. John Case left this morning Berlin, N. H. on a business trip. Maynard Smith was in Ballston to- day on business. Mrs, A. H. Wicks and son have re- turned from a visit in Granville. Arthur Ives is working at the Sav- age store while Bernard Curtis is on his vacation. Mr. and Mrs. Emest Smith have re- turned to New York City, after a few days' stay in town. Mr. and Mrs. Frank Tvre and Mr. and rs. Charles Nesbit have return ed from a short stay at Lake George. Mr. and Mrs. John Sheehan have returned from their wedding tour in Massachusetts. Miss Ruth Brayman left today for a visit in Albany and Syracuse. Mrs. George Wilde and «children have returned from a visit in Amster dam. 111g Rev. F. A. Hall and family. are enjoring camp life on Bells Island. Mrs. Anna Leonard of Troy, is the guest of Mr. and Mrs. James E. Mur raj. for { If you feel tired out, out of sorts, ftlefipcndent, mentally or physically depressed, and lack the desire to ac complish things, get a 50 cent box of } Wendell's Ambition Pills at Dolan Bros. today'and your troubles will beI prer. l If yousdrink too much, smoke too much, orgars nervous because of over mork of* any kind, Wendell's Amb lon will make you feel better in.three days or money back from (OgranfiBx-os. on the first box purchas- ed. ' For all affections of the nervous syétem', constipation, loss of appetite, jack offconfidence, trembling, kidneys or lfrertcomplaints, sleeplessness, ex- bausted \vitality or weakness of any ykifldh gefya box of Wendell's Amb . Pills'today on the money back Mail orders filled, charges pre- o plan. + £2116, Tby The Wendell Pharmacal Com . £3117, Inc.. Syracuse, N. Y. * - | .% % You do not count $ fr %T ] for much unless Thertree that F fails in the middle of the forest makes no nolse, and the rose that bléoms far from the beaten path has no perfume. Add Pees fevery intelligent person must | so much about caring for hig own | Mr: James Phinney and son, George of Merhanieville, are via\'ng in town. Miss Grace Winne left today for a visit with Miss Lucy Pettit in Fre- dora. Mrs. Shapero and daughter, after a visit to Mr. and Mrs. H. Cramer, have returned to ther hom»e in New York Mrs. H. W. Stoughton and son, are visiting Mrs. C. H. Hay in Mechanic ville. Former Governor Martin H. Glyan called on the Rev. Father Griffith yes terday. a REPAIRS AT PosTOFFICE, The pystofiice is having some need ed repairs by the way of paint and paper. It will be appreciated by the public. as it was a tough looking office. HOTTEST DAY OF sEAson. Yesterqay was the hottest day of the season. Ninety-seven was registered in the shade at Cheseman's store. IN THE CRADLE, A daughter has been borm to Mr. and Mrs. Richard Ford, Chestnut street, Another Lure of Publicity. Many a man donates to some public movement the money he might well have used to pay his butcher, baker, or grocer,-Macon News. AN OLD PROVERL. It used to be proverbial that every . man (and it is certainly no less true of woman) is either a fool or a phy- sician at forty, This means that learn health that by the time he is forty years of age he can almost be reck ' oned as a physician. Why, then, is there so much talk by doctors against \self-medication\? [{A woman can recognize all ordinary, | adiments without calling on a doctor. | If they are ailments distinctive to her sex she generally knows enough to use that greatest of all remediés for [such aflmnts, Lydia E. Pinkham's| Vegetable Compound, she ] and - likewise is familiar with the standard remeédios for other discases, « PEs see World Famous Medical Authority Takes up Fight on infantile Paralysis. - pm simon f} NER, . the world's most famous constructive me- Dr. Simon Flexner, one of dical man, is hard at work at the Rockefeller Institute of Medical Re- search devising a means for extermin- ating the dreaded and deadly infan- tile paralysis. Expert Testimohy: Young Mrs. Cornell was a bride of but a short time. One afternoon she confided to her friends at a pink tea | that she was sure her husband never played poker at his club. \How.\ quer- ied one of the women, \did you find out?\ \Oh.\ explained the young bride, \I met a couple of the members of his club the other day and I asked them: \Can Perry play poker? They looked thoughtful for a moment and then answered very sincerely: INC p J «Prussians and Germans. Many authorities hold that the orig- inal Prussians were not of the same breed of the old, or South, Germans, being of the Hunnish or Mongolian stock. The kinship of the English, {ethnologically speaking) are fot fa- cluded in the Teutonic circle. They Teutonic blood. w __ SUBSCRIBE FOR THE TIMES, 4 % | or nt Borpre . & ZANE GREY |. g_ \ ~ AUTHOR oF, | \THE LIGHT OF WESTERN. ell O6 STARS C _ _ \RIDERS OF, THE®PURPLE | SAGE\ FTC. coryriont, oy HAMMER AND Brorrens CHAPTER I. So it was in him, then-an inherited fighting instinct, a driving intensity to kill. He was the last of the Duanes, that old fighting stock of Texas,. But not the memory of his dead father, nor the pleading of his soft-voiced mother, nor the warning of this uncle who stood before him now, had brought to Buckley Duane so much realization of the dark, passionate strain in his blood. It was the recurrence, a hun- dredfold increased in power, of a strange emotion that for the last three years had arisen in him. \Yes Cal Bain's in town, full of bad whisky an' huntin' for you,\ re- peated the elder man, gravely. \But what's he want me for?\ de- manded Duane. \To insult me again? I won't stand that twice.\ \He's got a fever that's rampant in Texas these days, my boy. He wants gun-play. If he meets you he'll try to kill you.\ Here it stirred in Duane again, that bursting gush of blood, like a wind of flame shaking all his inner being, and subsiding to leave him strangely « chilled. \Kill me! What for?\ he asked. \Lord knows there ain't any reason. But what's that to do with most of the shootin' these days? Didn't five cow- boys over to Everall's kill one another dead all because they got to Jerkin' at a quirt among themselves? An' Cal has no reason to love you His girl was sweet on you.\ \I quit when I found out she was his girl.\ \I reckon she ain't quit. But never mind her or reasons. Cal's here, Just drunk enough to be ugly. Ie's achin' to kill somebody. He's one of them fowu~flush gun-fighters. There's a lot of wild cowboys who're ambitious for a reputation. They laugh at the sher- iffs an' brag about how they'd fix the rangers. Cal's sure not much for you to bother with, if you only keep out of his way.\ \You mean for me to run?\ asked Duane, in scorn. \I reckon I wouldn't put it that way. Just avoid him. Buck, I'm not afraid Cal would got you,. What I'm most afraid of is that you'll kill Bain.\ Duane was silent, letting his uncle's earnest words sink in, trying to realize their significance. \Buck went on the uncle, \you're twenty-three now, an' a powerful sight of a fine fellow, barrin' your tempor. You've a chance in life. But if you go gun-fightin', if you kill a man, \I'd Never Hang.\ you're ruined. The rangers would make you an outlaw. This even-break business doesn't work with them. If you resist arrest they'll kill you. If you submit to arrest, then you go to jail, an' mebbe you hang.\ \TA never hang,\ muttered Duane, darkly. \I reckon you wouldn't,\ replied the old man. \You'd be like your father. He was ever ready to draw-too ready. In times like these, with the Texas rangers enforcin' the law, your dad would have heen driven to the river. He was killed in a street-fight. An' it was told of him that he shot twice after a bullet had passed through his heart. of a man, to be able to do that. If you have any such blood in you, never give it a chance.\ \What you say is all very well, q uncle,\ returned Duane, \but the only way out for me is to run, and I won't lo it, Cal Bain and his outfit have Jdreadyv mode me look like a coward.\ Dutch, Scandinavian sand South Ger- | M man is indisputable, but the Prussians j are, to say the least, originally of non- ! 4 F Think of the terrible nature. np if he's that bad?\ Classified Advertise. ments Supply Your Wants at lc a Word. \Well then, what're you goin' to do?\ inquired the elder man. - \I haven't decided-yet.\ \No but you're comin' to it mighty fast, That terrible spell is workin' in you, You're gettin' cool an' quiet, an' you think deep, an' I don't like the light in your eye. It reminds me of your father.\ \I wonder what dud would say to me today if he were alive and here,\ said Duane. \What do you think? What could you expect of a man who never wore a glove on his right hand for twenty years?\ \Well he'd hardly have said much. Dad never talked. But he would have done a lot. And I guess I'll go down- town and let Cal Bain find me,\ Then followed a long silence, dur- ing which Duane sat with downcast eyes, and the uncle appeared lost in sad thought of the future. Presently he turned to Duane with an expression: that denoted resignation, and yet a spirit which showed wherein they were of the same blood. \You've got a fast horse-the fast- est I know of in this country. After you meot Bain hurry back home. I'll have a saddlebrg packed for you and the horse ready.\ With that he turned on his heel and went into the house, leaving Duane to revolve in his mind his singular speech. That hour of Duane's life was like years of actual living, and in it he became a thoughtful man. He went into the house and inspect» ed his belt and gun. The gun was a Colt .45, six-shot, and heavy, with an ivory handle. He had packed it, on aud off, for five years. Before that it had been used by his father. There were a number of notches filed in the bulge of the ivory handle. This gun was the one his fathar had fired twice after being shot through the heart, and his hand had stiffened so tightly upon it in the death-grip that his fin- gers had to be pried open. It had never been drawn upon any man since it had come into Duane's possession, But the cold, bright polish of the weapon showed how it had been used. Duane could draw it with inconceiv- nble. rapidity, and at twenty feet he could split a card pointing edgewise toward him. Duane wished to avoid meeting his mother. Fortunately, as he thought, she was away from home. He went out and down the path toward the gate. The air was full of the fra- grance of blossoms and the melody of birds. Outside in the rord a neighbor woman stood talking to a countryman in a wagon; they spoke to him; and he heard, but did mot reply. Then he began to stride down the road toward the town. Wellston was a small town, but im- portant in that unsettled part of the groat state because it was the trading center of several hundred miles of ter- ritory. On the main street there were perhaps fifty buildings, some brick, some frame, mostly adobe, and one- third of the lot, and by far the most prosperous, were saloons, Duane's eye ranged down the street, taking in all at n glance. By the time he reached Sol White's place, which was the first saloon, he was walking slowly, Sev- eral people spoke to him and turned to look back after they had passed. He paused at the door of White's sa- loon, took a sharp survey of the inte- rior, then stepped inside. The saloon was large and cool, full of men and noise and smoke. The noise ceased upon his entrance, and the silence ensuing presently broke to the clink of Mexican sliver dollars at a monte table. All eyes except those of the Mexican gamblers were turned upon Duane. Several of the cowboys and ranchers present exchanged glances. Duane had been weighed by unerring Texas instinct, by men who all packed guns. 'The boy was the son of his father. Whereupon they greeted him and returned to their drinks and cards. Sol White stood with his big, red hands out upon the bar; he was a tall, rawboned Texan, with a long mustache waxed to sharp points. \Howdy Buck,\ was his greeting to Duane. He spoke carelessly and avert- ed his dark gaze for an instant. \Howdy Sol,\ replied Duane, slowly. 'Say, Sol, I hear there's a gent in town looking for me bad.\ \Reckon there is, Buck,\ replied White. \He came in heah aboot an hour ago. Shore he was some riled an' a-roarin' for gore,. Told me confi- dentlal a certain party had given you a white silk scarf, an' he was hell-bent on wearia' it home spotted red.\ \Anybody with him?\ queried Duane. \Burt an' Sam Outcilt an' a lttle cowpuncher I never seen before. They. all was coaxin' him toleave town. But he's looked on the flowin' glass, Buck, an' he's heah for keeps.\ \Why doesn't Sheriff Oaks lock him ranch. 'The King Risher gang, likely. An' so the town's shore wide open.\ _ Duane stalked outdoors and faced . down thestreet. length of the long block, mecting many people-farmers, ranchers, clerks, the street was almost empty, If it | was an instinct for Tesins to fight, it was also instinctive for them to sense of a coming gun=play. Rumor could | not fly so swiftly. In less thin ten '] minutes everybo@y who had been on .| the street or in the shops knew that [¥ | Buck Duane had come forth to meet '| his enemy. Duane walked on, When he came ito within fifty paces of a saloon he swerved out into the middle of the street, stood there for a moment, then He passed on in this way the length of the block, Sol White was stinding in the door of his \Buck I'm a-tippin' you <ff,\ he said, quick and low-voiced, \Cal Bain's over at Everall's. If he'sa-huntin' you bad, as he brags, he'll show there.\ Duane crossed the street and start- ed down. Notwithstanding White's statement, Duane was wary and slow at every door. Nothing happened, and he traversed almost the wehole length of the block without seeimg a person. Everall's place was on the corner, Duane knew to be cold, steady. He was conscious of a strange fury that made him want to leap His Bullet Scattered Dust and Grave! at Duane's Feet. ahead. He seemed to long for this en- counter more than anything he bad ever wanted, But, vivid as were his sensations, he felt as if in. a dream. Before he reach ed Everall's he heard loud voices, one of which was raised high. Then the short door swung out- ward as if impelled by a vigorous hand. A bowlegged cowboy wearing woolly chaps burst out twpon the sidewalk. At sight of Duane fre seemed to bound into the air, and he uttered a savage roar. Duane stopped in his tracks at the outer edge of the sidewal%, perhaps a dozen rods from door, If Bain was drunk he Gid not show it in his movenzent, He swiggered forward, rapidly closing up the gap. Red, sweaty, disheveled and hitless, his face distorted and expressive of the most malignant intent, he was a wild and sinister figure He had al- ready killed a man, and this shoved in his demeanor, His hands were extend- ed before him, the right Rand a little lower than the left, At every step he beltowed his rancor in speech mostly curses. Gradually he slowed his walk, then halted. A good twenty-five paces separated the men. \won't nothin' mike you draw, you i\ he shouted fiercely. \I'm waitin' om you Cal,\ replied Duane. Bain's right haud stiffened-moved. Duane threw his gun as a boy throws a ball underhanG-a drasw his father had taught him. He pulled twice, his shots almost as one, Bain's big Colt boomed while it was pointed down- 'ward and he was falling. His bullet scattered dust amd gravel at Duane's feet. He fell loosely, without contor- tion. In a flash all was reality for Duane. He went forward sand held his gun ready for the slightest maovement on the part of Bain. But Bain Isy upon his back, and all that moved were his breast and his eyes, How stringely the red had left his face-and also the distortion! The Gevil that had showed conscious. He tried to speik but failed. His eyes expressed something pitifully human. They changed- rolled-set blankiy; Duane drew a deep breath and sheathed his gun. He felt calm and cool, glad the fray was over One violent expression burst from him. \The fool!\ When he looked up there were men around him. \Plumb center,\\ said one. Another, a cowboy who evidently had just left the gaming table, leaned down and pulleG® opet Bain's shirt. He had the ace of spades in bis hand. He laid it on Bain's breast, and the black figure on the card covered the two bullet holes just «over Bain's heart. '_ _. 'To Clean Water Bottles, Put one handfizl of tea leaves, one tablespoonful of salt, one tablespoon- ful of vinegar into the water bottle, apd then fll one-half full of water; rinse this well round ard round for several times, then pour away, and wash thoroughly in cold water, Turn the bottle upside down to drain, and | wipe the outside syith a dry cloth, 1 \Onks went away with the rangers. { | There's been another raid at Flesher's He walked the whole | . ~ \ k CHAPTRR merchants, Mexicans, cowboys and. | women. It was <A singular fact that i when he turned to retrace his steps | with remarkable quicksess the sighs went ahead and back to thie sidewalk.\ in Bain was gone. He was sober and: _ Duane wheeled and hurried awa; 'He heard another man say: ©Reckon (al got what he deserved \ Buck Duane's, first gur-play. Like fo ther Hike son}\ L2 IL When Dumme came to the gate 0: his home and saw his uncle there with a mettlesome horse, saddled, with can- teen, rope and bags all in place, & subtle shock pervaded his spirit. It had slipped his mind-the consequence of his act. But sight of the horse and the look of his uncle recalled the fact that he must now become a fugitive, An unreasonable anger took hold of him, \That d--d fool!\ 'he exclaimed hotly. \Meeting Bain wasn't much, Uncle Jim. He dusted my boots, that's. all, And for that I've got to go on the dodge.\ \Son you killed him-then?\ asked the uncle, buskily. \Yes. I stood over him-watched him die. I did as I would have been done by.\ : \I knew It, Long ago I saw it com- in'. But now we can't stop to ery over spilt blood. You've got to leave town an' this part. of the country.\ \Mother!\ exclaimed Duane. , \She's away from home. You can,. walt, I'll break it to her-what she always feared.\ Suddenly Duane sat down and cov» ered his face with his hands. \My God! Uncle, what have I done?\ His broad shoulders shook. \Listen son, an' remember what I say,\ replied the elder man, earnestly. \Don't ever forget. You're not to, blame. I'm glad to see you take it this way, because maybe you'll never grow! hard an' callous. You're not to blame. . This is Texas. You're your father's © son,. These are wild times. The law | as the rangérs are Inying it down now © can't change life all in a minute.\ \I'm a murderer,\ said Duane, shud- - dering. \No son, you're not. will be. But you've got to be an out~ law till time makes it safe for you to come home.\ \An outlaw?\ \I said it, If we had money an' in« fluence, we'd risk a trial But we've pelther. Strike for the wild country, an' wherever you go an' whatever you do-be a man. You can't come home. When this thing is lived down, if that time ever comes, I'll get word into the! unsettled country. It'll reach you some day. That's all Remember, be a man. Good-by.\ Duane, with blurred sight and con- tracting throat, gripped his uncle's. hand and bade him a wordless fare> well. Then he leaped astride the black and rode out of town. As swiftly as was consistent with a care for his steed, put a dis« tance of ffteen or eighteen miles behind + him,. He passed several ranches, and was seen by men,. This did not suit him, and he took an old. trail across country. It was a flat region with a poor growth of mesquite and prickly-pear cactus. Occasionally; he caught a glimpse of low hills in the distance. He had hunted often in that ' | section, and knew where to find grasa and water, When he reached this higher ground he did not, however, halt at the first favorable camping spot, but went on and on. At last he found a secluded spot, un« der cover of thick mesquites and oaks, at a goodly distance from the old trail. He took saddle and pack off the horse, made a small fire, prepared and ate his supper. This done, ending the work of that day, he sat down and filled his pipe. When night set in and the place seemed all the more isolated and lonely for that Duane had a sense of relief. * It dawned upon him all at once that he was nervous, watchful, sleepless. The fact caused him surprise, and he began to think back, to take note of his late actions and their motives. The change one day had wrought amazed him. He who had always been free, easy, happy, especially when out alone in the open, had become in a few short hours bound, serious, preoccupied. He folt tired, yet had no inclination ta rest. - He intended to be off by dawn, heading toward the southwest. Had he a destination? It was vague as his knowledge of that great waste of, mesquite and rock bordering the Ria Grande. Somewhere out there was & refuge. For he was a fugitive from justice, an outlaw. a This being an outlaw then meant eternal vigilance. No home, no rest, ho sleep, no content, no life worth the living! He must be a lone wolf or he must herd among men obnoxious to. him. -If he worked for an honest liv=. ing, he still must hide his identity and take risks of detection. If he did not, work on some distant, outlying ranch, > how was he to live? The idea o% stealing was, repugnant to him. The future seemed - gray and | somber ° enough. And he was twenty-threq years old. But what was the matter with the light of his campfire? It had taken on a strange green luster and seemed to be waving off into the outer shadows. Duane heard no step, saw no move« ment; nevertheless, there was another present at that campfire vigil. Duane saw him. He lay there in the middle of the green brightness, prostrate, mo- tionless, dying. Cal Bain! That haunting visitation left Duand \ sitting there in a cold sweat, a remorsd gnawing at his, vitals, realizing the curse that was on him. He divined that never would he be able to keep off- that phantom. He remembered how. his father had been eternally pursu‘egv by furies of accusing guilt, how he had, hever been able to forget in work of in sleep those men he had killed. *a - ~ To be continued. i Stroll With the' Girls. \Which had you.rather do-take £ short walk with s long girl or & long walk with a short girl?\ \That would depend on my finances-T'd hate to be short with a short girl orif I was short with a long girl T couldn't go with the long girl long.\ \But suppose you» were flush with dough?\ \Oh thep . T'd long for a long walk -with the long , & An' you never | { girl and even the short gifl could come ; * A SER < ECHANIC © [Jonfironted \the old c (/te. There (ift water in 1\ de not suc '43er from t «sstown st face water added wit] fayor Ec f i1m1ttee to op committ A, William {Ryan, Ed (Davry, Co ~[H. Stirlin } 1 ill G. Mo mard B. I Van Rens: 4 4 «Purcell, I §fili‘jnjgam. i goLp 'DCDENSB ') St, La inorts that liturday, th ‘ ih gold pai a route fro t week th . ,!d through 'P‘ Since t] £7,016 in £0 strict from outs consi in. 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