t JVl
«.aVi>M 18" ow«*» n,n,m V««V«
OFFICIAL CUT PAPER
Lk 8. KeUer, Publisher.
Admitted M Mcond Cast mall
alter Julx I, 139S, at th« Sfcajs*
»y P. O, 5-. a
The Dally Alaska* cffaisee for
t puDUc*tlon« not «oUclt«d, which
elude* all notice*, other than
:arrb«% or charitably societies.
gobcrlptlta Rate*
ne month by mail I • <&
ua moath by carrie 1-00
n.Te« monthj by mall 3.25
i •coat* by mall 4 50
n« Y»ar by mall 9-00
.iwrlpUoai And Advertisements j
tbv«4«ed By
utH'i Newt Oo.. Wbltehors©, T. T
•• Uideoa Carcroe*. Y. T.
. L. PlLimaa Atlln* B. C.
EDITORIAL !
' *
. - - ...... . . * J L I j 1 L L L
9 »• V • r 'I " 1W V ^ T 1 T I I I I
WHITE A SLOGAN
Two weeks have be?n aWed to
•"ce pwiv>d of the Victory Liberty
f f3u slogan contest. Itiste&d of
'.osin* March 22 the finaj (jay will
■ April 5.
The only limit in the contest is
a» number of words that can be
Jseci in any slogan. Twelve is the
imi« but the charter 'he better de
:!ares the Slogan Editor, who ad,ds,
We want a stirring battle cry that
will express the spirit of the coun
tr» In floating this lo^a."
Beie are a few of the thousands
tnat have been submitted:
"Victory Bonds Bind Victory."
"Don't Quit Because the Kaiser
Did."
"Are You Grateful? Loan."
"What is Victory Worth to You.?
"Prosperity for Posterity."
"1 ou Ordered Victory, Pay the
Pric~. "
"This Loan is »he Last. Let's
Finish it Fast."
"If You Don't Lifee Our Victory
Loo u Try Germany's."
FEW GOLD MINERS DIE RICH
Money Made in Gold Mining Rarely
Sticks to Man Who
Make* It
Seattle, Wash.—Few gold miners
ever die rich, according to A. J. Blake,
who was one of the first pioneers who
staked claims in the Seward Peninsula
district of Alaska, before the rich
Nome beaches were discovered.
"It's a peculiar fact." said Blake,
"that money made In gold mining
rarely sticks to the man who makes
It. Gold taken from the ground 13
the cleanest money extant in that It
makes no other man poorer, and ye»
the men who make money in this
way generally die poor."
Could Hardly Have Been Grief.
"Jurd Rackledaffer's oldest girl got
married last night," repeated Captain
Johnson of Rumpus Ridge, who was
In Tumllnvllle on a shopping expedi
tion.
"Ah! 'Who was the happy man?"
asked the editor 01 the Torch of Lib
erty.
"Jurd. I reckon. "Leastways, when I
rid by his place this morning I seen
him standing on his head in a fence
corner with hj,s heels waving in the
air. And. as Jurd is all of fifty years
old, I don't 'low that grief would drive
him to cutting such capers as that."—
Kansas Citv Star.
Twas Ever Thus.
St Louis. Mo.—When two "nice"
strangers with whom Thomas P. Keif
er, Beardstown, Hi., strolled here,
started matching pennies he became
Interested. When they matched quar
ters his temperature rose. When the
two matched dollars he could not re
sist the temptation and he got in the
game. Later he t«>!d the police of his
loss—$100 in money and a diamond val
ued at $130.
THE LIGHT
IN THE CLEARING'
A TALE OF THE NORTH COUNTRY
.IN THE TIME OF SiLAS WIGHT
IRVING BACHELLER
Autho* op
L, UEN HOIDCN, Dm AND I. DARREl OP THE BLESSED ISLE*
t'A & wriwvt WITH UZ2IE. ETC. ETC
" W ' , I - ecojuKT NihrrccwivtMnR itvaw uomui
J ' ^ SYNOPSIS.
CHAPTER I—Barton Baynes, orphan,
1® taken to live v.lth hla uncle, Peabody
Baynes. and Tils Aunt Deel on a farm on
Ratxleroad In a neighborhood called Llck
ityspBL about the year 1S26. Barton meets
Sally Dunkelberg, about his own age, but
socially of a clans above the Bayneaes,
and Is fascinated by the pretty face
and fine clothes.
CHAPTER II--Barton meets Roving
Kate, known In the neighborhood as the
"Silent Woman." Amos Orlmshaw. young
son of the richest man In the township.
Is a visitor at the Baynes home, and
Roving Kate tells the fortunes of the two
boys, predicting a bright future for Bar
ton and death c>n the gallows for Amos.
Reproved for an act of boyish mischief
Barton runs awiiy. Intending to make his
home with the Dunkelbergs. He reaches
the village of Canton and falls into a
sleep of exhaustion on a porch. There
he Is found by Silas Wright, Jr.. promi
nent man In pul'lic affairs, who, knowing
Peabody Bayner. takes Barton home af
ter buying him new clothes.
CHAPTER IH-Barton and hla uncle
and aunt visit Canton and bear Silas
Wright read a sermon.
CHAPTER IV— Silas Wright evinces
much Interest lr' Barton, and sends a box
of books and n>agailnes to the Baynes
home. The election of Silas Wright to
th« United States senate Is announced.
CHAPTER V-When Barton !s twelve
years old he b icoraes aware of the ex
istence of a wonderful and mysterious
power known as "Money," and learns
now. through his possession of that won
derful thing Qrl'nshaw Is the most power
ful and greatly dreaded man In the com
munity, most of *he settlers being In his
debt. After a visit to the Baynes ^ome
Mr. Wright leaves a note In a seal en
velop*. which Barton Is to read the
first night when he leaves horn- at
tend school.
CHAPTER VI—Barton lr ked to
drive a load to mill, arrive ly, but
Sn a snowstorm, "unable to ; >e road,
the horses get Into the and *
wheel of the wngon la > Uncle
Peabody manages to together
enough to satisfy Grlmsh nd obtain
an extension.
CHAPTER vn-Now in his sixteenth
year Barton accompanies "Mr. Purvis,"
the hired man, tc the postofflce at Can
ton. On the way they meet a rider, and
the three Journey together. They are
held up by a man with a gun, who makes
the highwayman's demand of "Your
money or your life." Purvis runs away,
while the stranger draws a pistol, but be
fore he can use it the robber shoots and
kills htm. Barton's horse throws him
and runs away. As the murderer bends
over the stranger Barton throws a stone
which he observes wounds the thief, who
makes oft at one®, but not until Barton
had noted that his gun stock was broken
in a peculiar nu.nner. Search of the
neighborhood for the robber Is unavailing
and the stranger is burled.
CHAPTER VIII—Barton leaves home to
attend Michael 1 Jacket's school. Amos
Orlmshaw Is arrssted charged with the
murder of the stranger.
CHAPTER IS—Orlmshaw seeks to
bribe Barton to be silent about his
wounding the murderer of the man killed
on the road. The offer Is spumed.
crtApTEK X—SSmiasaries of Ben Orlm
shaw seek to kidnap Barton, or do worse.
He Is warned by "Silent Kate," and es
capes.
CHAPTER XI—Uncle Peabody, Aunt
Deel and the neighbors celebrated Christ
mas. "Old Kate" Is one of the party.
fur some months 1 had been study
ing a book Just published, entitled,
"Stenographic Sound-Hand," and had
learned its alphabet and practiced the
ose of !t. That evening I took down
the remarks of Mr. Hacket in sound
hand.
The academy cnnpei was crowaea
with the older boys and girls and the
tewnfolk. The master never clipped
his words In school as he was wont to
do when talking familiarly with the
children.
"Since the leaves fell our little vil
lage has occupied the center of the
etage before an audience of millions
In the great theater of congress. Our
leading citizen—the chief actor—has
been crowned with immortal fame. We
who watched the play were thrilled by
the query: Will Uncle Sam yield to
temptation or cling to honor? He has
chosen the latter course and we may
still hear the applause in distant gal
leries beyond the sea. He has decided
that the public revenues must be paid
In honest money.
"My friend and classmate, George
Bancroft, the historian, has written
this letter to me out of a full heart:
" Tour fellow townsman, Sllaa
Wright, Is now the largest figure in
Washington. We were all worried by the
resolution of Henry Clay until it began
to crumble under the irresistible attack
of Sir. Wright. On the 16th he sub
mitted a report upon it which for lucid
and accurate statements presented In
the most unpretending manner won
universal admiration and will be re
membered alike for its Intrinsic excel
lence and for having achieved one of
the most memorable victories ever
gained in the United States senate.
After a long debate Clay himself, com
pelled by the Irresistible force of argu
ment in the report of Mr. Wright, was
obliged to retire from his position, his
resolution having been rejected by a
vote of 44 to 1.'"
With what pride and Joy I heard of
this great thing that my friend had ac
complished !
Going out *ith the crowd that eve
ning, I met Sally *nd Mr. and Mrs.
Dunkelberg. The latter did not speak
to me and when I asked Sally If I
could walk home with her she an
swered curtly, "No, thank you."
I have got a bit ahead of my history.
Soon after the opening of the new
year—Ion days or so later it may nave
■been—I had begun to feel myself en
compassed by a new and subtle force.
It was a thing as Intangible ns heat
but as real as fire and more terrible. It
seemed to me. 1 felt It first In the at
titude of my play fellows. They de
nied me the confidence and intimacy
which I had enjoyed before. They
whispered together in my presence. In
all this I had not failed to observe that
H«;nry Wilis had taken a leading part.
The invisible, inaudible, mysterious
thing wrought n great change in me. It
followed me through the day and lay
down with nie at night. I wondered
what I had done. I carefully surveyed
my clothes. They looked all right to
me. My character was certainly no
worse than it had been. How it preyed
upon my peace and rest and happiness
—that mysterious hidden thing!
One day Uncle Peabody came down
tc see me and I walked through the
village with him. We met Mr. Dunkel
berg, who merely nodded and hurried
along. Mr. Bridges, the merchant, did
not greet him warmly and chat with
him as he had been wont to do. I saw
that The Thing—as I had come to
think of It—was following him also.
How It darkened his face! Even now
I can feel the aching of the deep,
bloodless wounds of that day. I could
bear It better alone. We were trying
to hide our pain from each other when
we said good-by. How quickly my
uncle turned away and walked toward
the sheds! He came rarely to the vil
lage of Canton after that.
May had returned—a warm bright
May. I had entered my seventeenth
year and the work of the term was
finished.
Having nothing to do one afternoon,
I walked out on the road toward Og
densburg for a look at the woods and
fields. Soon I thought that I heard the
sound of galloping hoofs behind me.
I looked back and I saw Sally round
ing the turn by the river and coming
toward me at full speed, the mane of
her pony flying back to her face. She
pulled up beside me just ns I had
imagined she would do.
"Bart, I hate somebody terribly,"
said she.
"A man who Is coming to our house
on tht> stage today. Granny Barnes Is
tiying to get up a match between us.
Father says lie is rich and hopes he
will warn* to marry me. I got mad
about it. lie is four years older than
I am. Isn't that awful? I am going to
lie just as uSrau and hateful to him as
I can."
"I guess they're only fooling you," I
said.
"Xo, they mean It. I have heard
them talking It over.
"He cannot marry you."
"Why?"
It seemed to me that the time had
come for me to speak out, and with
burning cheeks I snid:
"Because I think that God has mar
ried you to me already. Do yon re
member when we kissed each other
by the wheat field one day last sum
mer?"
"Yes."
We had faced about and were walk
ing back toward Canton, I close by the
pony's side.
"May I kiss you again?"
She stopped the pony and leaned
toward me aLd our lips met In a kiss
the thought of which makes me lay
down my pen and bow my head a mo
ment while I think with reverence of
that pure, sweet spring of memory In
whose waters I love to wush my
spirit.
"I guess God has married us again,"
I declared.
"I knew that you were walking on
this road and I had to see you," said
she. "People have been saying such
terrible things."
"What?"
"They say your uncle found the
pocketbook that was lost and kept the
money. Thoy say he was the first man
that went up the road after it was
lost."
'It's a lie—my uncle never saw the
pocketbook. Some money was left to
him by a relative in Vermont. That's
hew it happened that he bought a fr.rm
instead of going to the poorhouse whun
Grimshaw put .the screws to him."
"I knew that your uncle didn't So
It," she went on. "Father and mother
couldn't tell you. So I had to."
"Why couldn't your father and moth
er tell me?"
"They didn't dare. Mr. Grimshaw
made them promise that they would
not speak to you or to any of your
family. I heard them say that you and
your uncle did right. Father told
mother that he never knew a man so
honest as your Uncle Peabody."
Just then we came upon the Silent
Woman sitting among the dandelions
by the roadside. She held a cup In
her hand with some honey on Its bot
tom and covered with a piece of glass.
"She Is hunting bees»" I said as wo
We Came Upon the Silent Woman Sit
ting Among the Dandelions by the
Roadside.
stopped Desido her.
She rose aud patted my shoulder
with a smile and threw a kiss to Snlly.
Suddenly her face grew stern. She
. pointed toward the village and then at
Snlly.
"She means that there Is some dan
ger ahead of you." I said.
The Silent Woman nicked a long
blade of grass aud tipped Its end In
the honey at the bottom of the cup.
She came close to Sally with the blade
of grass between her thumb and finger.
"She is fixing a charm," I said.
She smiled and nodded as she put a
drop of honey on Sally's upper Jlp.
She held up her hands while her ilpa
moved as If she were blesslug us.
"I suppose it will not save me If I
brush It off." said Sally.
AVe went on and in a moment a bee
lighted on the honey. Nervously she
struck at it and then cried out with
pain.
"The bee has stung you." 1 said.
She covered her face with her hund
kerchiof and made no answer.
"Wait a minute—I'll get some clay,"
I said as I ran to the river hank.
I found some clay and moistened It
with the water and returned.
"There, look at me!" she groaned.
"The bee hit my nose."
She uncovered her face, now de
formed almost beyond recognition, her
nose having swollen to one of great
size and redness.
"Tou look like Rodney Barnes," I
said with a laugh as I applied the clay
to her afflicted nose.
"And I feel like the old boy. I think
my nose Is trying to jump off and run
away."
We were nearing the village. She
wiped the mud from her prodigious
nose and I wet her handkerchief In a
pool of water and helped her to wash
| it. Soon we saw nvo men approaching
us In the road. lu a moment 1 ob
served that one was Mr. Horace Dun
kelberg; the other a stranger and a re
markably handsome young man he
\mis, about twenty-two years of age
and dressed in the height of fashion.
I remember so well his tall, athletic
figure, his gray eyes, his small dark
mustache and his admirable manners.
Both were appalled at the look of
Sally.
"Why, girl, what has happened to
you?" her father asked.
Then I saw what a playful soul was
Sally's. The girl was a born actress.
I "Been riding in the country," said
she. "Is this Mr. La tour?"
"This is Mr. Latour, Sally," said her
f8ther.
They shook hands.
"I am glad to see you," aaid the
stranger.
"They say I am worth seeing," said
Sally. "This Is my friend, Mr. Baynes.
When you are tired of seeing me, look
at him."
I shook the hand he offered me.
"Of course, we can't all be good
looking," Sally remarked with a sigh,
as If her misfortune were permanent.
Mr. Horace Duukelberg and I
laughed heartily—for 1 had told him in
a whisper what had happened to Sally
—while Mr. Latour looked a little em
barrassed.
"My face Is not beautiful, but they
say that I have a good heart," Sally
assured the stranger.
They started on. I excused myself
and took a trail through the woods to
I another road. Just there, with Sally
waving her hand to me as I stood for
a moment in the edge of the woods,
the curtain falls on this highly roman
tic period of my life.
Uncle Peabody came for me that eve
ning. It was about the middle of the
next week that I received this letter
from Sally:
."Dear Bnrt: Mr. Latour gave up
and drove to Potsdam in the evening.
Said he had to meet Mr. Parish. I
think that he had seen enough of me.
I began to hope he would stay—he
was so good looking, but mother is
very glad that he went, and so am I,
for our minister told us that he Is one
of the wickedest young men in the
state. He is very rich and very bad,
they say. I wonder if old Kate knew
about him. ner charm worked well
anyway—didn't It? My nose was all
| right In the morning. Sorry tBat I
can't meet you Saturday. Mother and
I are packing up to go away for the
summer. Don't forget me. I shall be
thinking every day of those lovely
things you said to me. I don't know
I what they will try to d© with me, and
I don't care. I really think as yon do,
Bart, that God has married us to each
! other.
"rours forever,
"SALLY DUNKELBERG".
How often I read those words—so
like all the careless words of the
younel
CHAPTER XIN.
The Bolt Falli.
Three times that winter I had seen
Benjamin Orlmshaw followed by the
Silent Woman clothed In rags and
pointing with her finger.
The trial of Amos came on. He had
had "blood on his feet," as they used
to say, all the way from Llckltyspllt
to Lewis county In his flight, having
attacked and slightly wounded two
men with a bowle knife who had tried
to detain him at Ealny Lake. He had
also shot at an officer In the vicinity
of Lowvllle, where his arrest was ef
fected. He had been Identified by all
these men, and so his character as a
desperate man had been established.
This. In connection with the scar on his
face and the tracks, which the boots
of Amos fitted, and the broken gun
stock convinced the Jury of his guilt.
I remember well the look of the
venerable Judge Cady as he pro
nounced the sentence of death upon
Amos Orlmshaw. A ray of sunlight
slanting through a window In the late
afternoon fell upon his gracious coun
tenance, shining also, with the softer
light of his spirit. Slowly, solemnly,
kindly, he spoke the words of doom.
It was his way of saying them that
first made me feel the dignity and
majesty of the law. The kind and fa
therly tone of his voice put me In
mind of that supramest court which
Is above all question and which was
swiftly to enter Judgment In this mut
ter and in others related to it.
(Continued on Saturday)
BOOTBLACK IS~REAL PATRIOT
Every Dollar of Subscription to War
Work Fund Means
Sacrifice.
Sandusky, O.—Andy Mahon, pa
triot, shoe-shine stand philosopher and
philanthropist, feels sorry for the peo
ple of Sandusky because of the poor
showing In the war work fund drive,
and whnt he feels toward those who
could give, but who did not, Is not
good newspaper English. But Andy
subscribed $50 and then another .$12
to be paid on the instalment plan, and
when the committee faced a shortage
at the last minute Andy dug down and
subscribed another $20. Every dollar
of Andy's subscription means a sac
rifice and it means lots of shoe shines.
Hot Chocolate la Ilne after tli
show. Try one at Kellers. tf
Many Skagway People Knorv the
Importosnee of Heal day JUdnjeg-s.
Tho kidneys filter th« blood.
They work night and day.
Well kidneys remove impurities.
Weak- kidneys allow Impurities to
multiply.
No Sidney ill should be neglected.
There is possible danger In delay.
If you have backache or urinary
troubles,
If you are nervous, dizzy or worn
out, i
BftEiLn treating your kidneys at
once;
Use a proven kidney remedy.
None endorsed like Doan's Kidney
PUIs.
Recommended by thousands
Mrs. Gus Andreas, 243 W. Fiffy
elghth St., Seattle, Wash., says-.
"Wnat caused my kidneys to gpt out
of order, I don't know. . Across
the small of my back and /over my
kidneys, sharp paing caught me all
the time. Dizzy spells annoyed me
a lot, too, and' I always felt tired
and languid. I used different kid
ney remedies but wasn't helped
until J used1 Doan's Kidney Pills.
In a short time Down's had re
moved the trouble and I have felt
fine ever since."
Trice 60c, at all dealers. Don't
simply ask or a. kidney remedy —
get Doan's Kidney Pills—the eame
that Mrs. Andrea® ha<}'. Foster
Milburn Co., Mfgrs., Buffalo, N. Y.
Only One "BROMO QUININE"
To ret the genuine, call for the
rul! nam0 LAXATIVE BROMO
QUI.XlNE. Look for signature of
E. W. GROVE. Cures a Cold in
One Day. 30c. ' Thti
A femedj forinJectiom
M 1 of lbs urinary tract.
m H PiiaJcaa, DOD-poiwsoiu
5J* wTT willnot etrictore
mRkjevetin 1 to 5day«.
PR,CE $1.20 Sold By Druggists
v 'irc-.ise wi h each bottle or mailed on rtqiwai.
PREPARED BY
THE EVANS CHEMICAL CO., CINCINNATI, 0.
White Ps
-*oute
TIME TABLE NO. 42
Thursday aj.d Friday
No 1. N. Bound
1st Ola<m
9:00 a. m. Leaves
11:25 a. m. n
12:15 p. m. "
1:10 p. m. ■
2:50 p. m. "
6:20 p. m. Arrive*
No.
SKAGVl'Al Vrrlves
WHITE PASS l.<-aves
LOG CABIN "
BENNETT
CARCR088 "
WHVTEHORSE "
Passengers must be at dep-i in tine to h*ve Baggage in
spected «nd checked. Inspection t« stopped 80 Minutes before
leaving time of trains.
150 pounds of baggage will t> checked free with pads fall
fare ticket and 75 pounds wlt/i each half far* ticket.
2. S. Bound
1st Class
4:20 p. m.
2:60 p. m.
2:00 p. m.
1:20 p. m.
11:18 a. m.
8:30 a. m.
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