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Local News of the Week.
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R. N. Farrer was at El Dorado
last Saturday.
F. W. Scott was a business vis
itor to Shreveport this week.
Mrs. T. B. Weaver is home from
a visit with friends at Monroe.
5 or 6 doses 666 will cure any
case of fever and chills. Price, 25c.
Mrs. F. I. Dupois visited w th
he brother at El Dorado the first
o the week.
Mrs. G. A. Berry visited her par
e its at El Dorado last Saturday
and Sunday.
Mrs Sid Nash is at Dunn, La.,
visiting her parents, Mr. and Mrs.
G. A. Thomas.
A daughter arrived at the home
of Mr. and Mrs. H. W. lmpson
Thursday of last week.
Mrs. V. C. Seaman and daugh
ter were the guests of El Dondo
f hnds the first of the week.
Mr. and Mrs. W. N. Ketchum,
of Camden, were the guests of Mr.
and Mrs. Jack Berna rd Sunday.
Our huller cleans the cotton and
s .ed. Neel it Brasher Gin,
Huttig, Ark.
Mrs. W. W Gathright and daugh
ter, Lillie, of Strong, were the
guests of Mrs. Fred Dupois this
week.
The painter having finished the
interior of the post office is now
busy overhauling the interior of
the Reagan &, Henderson restau
rant.
The fall term of the Union Coun
ty Circuit Gourt adjourned last
Saturday after disposing of over
200 cases in the two weeks it was
in session.
There were 1,743 bales of cotton
ginned in Union county prior to
September 25th. this year, as com
pared with 1,226 the same date
last year.
Mrs. R. Ebbs will entertain the
Ladies’ Aid Society of the Baptist
church in open session at her home,
corner 6th and C streets, on Tues
day afternoon. October 20.
No. 666
This it a prescription prepared especially
for MALARIA or CHILLS A. FEVER.
Five or iix doaea will break any caie, and
if taken then a« a tonic the Fever will not
return. It acta on the liver better than
Calomel and doea not gripe or aicken. 25c
Circle No. ^ of the Woman's
Missionary Union will give a box
supper in the basement of the Bap
tist church Friday night. Every
body invited and requested to bring
a box.
The congreg t in of the First
Baptist church have called Rev.
John F. Johnston, of Morrilton, to
the pastorate of their church and
he is expected to be here Sunday
to fill the pulpit.
T. J. Waits and Guice Hogue
were at El Dorado Saturday when
Judge Smith issued an order eman
cipating Guice so he could come
come into some money he inherited
that he might attend school.
Thos. Elmore Lucy, the enter
tainer who was the first number of
this season's Lyceum course, occu
pied the pulpit at Union church
Sunday morning and evening for
Rev. J. R. Rushing and, while not
a preacher, made helpful talks at
both services.
Stops Pain Right Now.
Hunt’s Lightning Oil gives al
most instant relief in cases of rhau
matism, neuralgia, headache, etc.,
and acts as a healing oil on cuts
and bruises. Eve y home should
keep a bott'e handy. * Get it at
any reputable drug store in 25c
and 50c bottles.
5 or 6 doses 666 will break anv
case of fever and chills. Price, 25c.
Rev. Sutton, of Batesville. occu
pied the pulpit at the First Baptist
church last Sunday morning ana
evening._
RUB-MY-TISM
Will cure your Rheumatism
Neuralgia, Headaches, Cramps,
Colic, Sprains, Bruises, Cuts and
Burns, Old Sores, Stings of Insects
Etc. Antiseptic Anodyne, used in*
ternally and externally. Price 25c.
Last afternoon Mrs. J. B. Foster
entertain od at a most pleasant af
ternoon at cards, complimentary to
Mrs. T. B. Weaver, of Huttig, Ark.,
guest of Mrs. J. C. Joh'son. Cut
fl jwers embellished the rooms. The.
prize of the bridge game was gold
lingerie slides, Mrs. B C. Dawkins i
being the fortunate winner. To
the honoree, Mrs. Weaver, the hos
tess presented a similar souvenir.
At the conclusion of the game a
confectionary luncheon was served
— Mor.roe News-Star. Oct. 13.
Deafness Cannot Be Cured
by local applications, &3 they cannot
reacli tlie u.seuued pur..on of the car.
There is only one way to cure deafness,
and that is by constitutional r medics.
Deafmss is caused by nu Inflamed condi
tion of the mucous lining of tlie Kusta
chian Tube. When this tube ij inflamed
you have a rumbling sound or Imperfect
he-ring, and when It Is entirely closed.
Deafness Is the result, end ur.les3 the In
flammation can be ta! cn out and this
tube restored to Its nermrl condition,
hearing will bo destroyed f rever; nine
cases cut of ten arc caused by Catarrh,
which 13 nothing but en inflamed condi
ti*n of the mucous surfaces.
t7e rhll five One Hundred Dollars foranycaso of
Pc-far s (cans' 1 l-ycatarrn that cannot b" enroll ty
Hall's Catarrh Carj. Send for circulars, fra.
F. J. CHENEY, & CO, Toledo, Ohio.
Bold by Drug*!:.;*, 7,'c.
Take Hall's Family 1*1 Us for const; nation.
_ t d"
A state-wide call to the mothers
and fathers of Arkansas has been
sent out by officials cf the State
Fair Association, who desire that
every county in this commonwealth
be represented in the “Better Baby
Health Contest," which, judging
by its great success last year and
the large number of children en
rolled for this feature at the com-1
ing State Fair, to be held in Hot
Springs November 16 to 21, will
be the greatest, most interesting,
entertaining and highly instructive
project ever presented to parents
in the history of the state.
PLEA FOR TRICK ANIMALS.
No dog or horse or cat ever find»
it according to its nature to jump
through flaming hoops, roll barrels
walk a tight rope or do scores of
other things it is forced to do by
trainers, says Our Dumb Animals
The lump of sugar or the bit of mea*
given deceives no one who knows
anything about animals. Refusal tc j
applaud, persuading eh. dren not to !
attend these exhibitions because of
the cruelty that is behind them, in ;
fluencing one’s friends against the
whole scheme of making money
through trick animals—these are
some of the ways in which we may
help.
FEARFUL.
"Why have the children so sud
denly decided they don’t want to go
with us on the sailing party?”
“I think it was because they heard
their father say there would be a
spanking breeze.”
LODGE DIRECTORY
ROWLAND LODGE No. £91 F. & A.
M.meets every second and fourth Satur
day evenings at 7:30 o'clock. Visiting
Masons always welcome.
F. O. Mahony. W. M.
D. F. Collett, Sec'y.
HOWARD CHAPTER. No. 122. R A.
M.—meets every first and third Thurs
day evening at Masonic hall. Visiting
companions welcome.
D. F Collett, H. FJ.
C. A. Berry, Secy.
HUTTIG CHAPTER No. 320. Order of
the Eastern Star, meets every first and
third Friday evening at 7:30 o'clock.
Visiting brothers and sisters welcome.
Mrs. A. E. Lucas. W. M.
Mrs. L. G. Gibson. Sec'y.
HUTTIG LODGE No. 348 I. O. O. F.
meets every Tuesday evening. Visiting
brethern cordially invited to attend.
M. H. Claybaugh, N. G.
E. L. Ware.-Secy.
HUTTIG REBEKAH LODGE No. 66.
meets every Monday night at 7:30 o'clock
Visitors are invited.
Mrs. Chas. Saxe. N. G.
Mrs. May Claybaugh, Secy.
SWEET BAY CAMP No. 4 I I W. 0. W.
meets every first and third Saturday eve
nings. Visitors made welcome.
G. M Caldwe_l, C C.
J. C. Bridges, Clerk.
The Land of Broken Promises
A Stirring Story of the
Mexican Revolution
=By DANE COOLIDGE=
Author of
-THE FIGHTING FOOL,” "HIDDEN WATERS,"
“THE TEXICAN," Elc.
Illustrations by DON J. LAVIN
A story of border Mexico, vivid.
Intense, such as has never before
been written, is this one of Ameri
can adventurers into the land of
manana. Texan, mining engineer,
Spanish senor and senorita, peon,
Indian, crowd its chapters with
clear-cut word pictures of busi
ness, adventure and love, against
a somber background of wretched
armies marching and counter,
marching across a land racked by
revolution and without a savior.
“What are you thinking of, Mr.
Hooker?” she asked at last, as he
gazed into the dusk. “Sofhetimee I
scold you and sometimes 1 try to
please you, but I never know what you
think! I did not mean that when I
said 1 could read your thoughts—you
are so different from poor, dear Phil!”
“M-m-m,” mumbled Bud, shifting his
feet, and his face turnetKii little grim.
“Aha!” she cried with ill-concealed
satisfaction, “you do not like me to
call him like that, do you? ‘Poor, dear
Phil,’—like that! But do you know
why I do it? It Is to punish you for j
never coming near me—when 1 signed
to you—when I waited for you—long
ago! Ah, you were so cruel! 1 want
ed to know you—you were a cowboy,
and I thought you were brave enough
to defend mo—but you always rode
right by. Yes, that was it—but Phil
was different! He came when I sent
for him; he sang songs to me at night;
he took my part against Manuel del
Rey; and now—”
“Yes!" commented Bud bruskly,
with his mind on “dear Phil’s" finish,
and she turned to peor into his face.
“So that is it!" she said. “You do
not trust me. You think that I am not
your friend—that I will serve you as
he was served. Is that what-you are
thinking?”
“Something like that,” admitted
Hooker, leaning lazily against the
mud wall. “Only I reckon 1 don't think,
just the way you do.”
“Why? How do I think?" rhe de
manded eagerly.
“Well, you think awful fast,” an
swered Hooker slowly. “And you don't
ulways think the same, seems like.
I'm kind of quiet myself, and I don’t
like—well, I wouldn't say that, but yon
don't always mean what you say.”
“Oh!” brenthed Gracia, and then,
after a pause, she came nearer and
leaned against the Jow wall beside j
him.
“If I would speak from my heart,” :
she asked, "if 1 would talk plain, as !
you Americans do, would you like me
better then? Would you talk to me ;
instead of standing silent? Listen,
Bud—for that is your name—I want j
you to bo my friend the way you were j
a friend to Phil. I know what you did I
for him, and how you bore with his
love-madness—and that was my fault,
too. But partly it was also your fault, |
for you made me angry by not coming.
“Y<es, I will be honest now—It was
you that I wanted to know at first, but
you would not come, and now 1 am
promised to Phil. He was brave when j
you w_re careful, and my heart went
out to him. You know how it is with j
us Mexicans—we do not love by rea- i
son. We love like children—suddenly ;
-—from the heart! And now all I wish
In life Is to run away to Phil. But
every time I speak of it you shut your
Jaws or tell me I am a fool."
“Ump-um," protested Bud. turning
stubborn again. “I tell you you don't
know what you’re talking about. These
rebels don't amount to nothing around
the town, but on a trail they're awful.
They shoot from behind rocks and all
that, end a woman ain't noways safe.
You must know what they're like—
these old women don’t think about
nothing else—so what's the use of talk
ing! And besides," he added grimly,
! "I've had some trouble with your old
man and don’t want to have any
more.4
“What trouble have you had?” she
demanded promptly, but Hooker would
not answer In words. He only
shrugged his shoulders and turned
away, crumpling his hat in his hand.
“But no!" she cried as she sensed
the meaning of his concealment, “you
must tell me! I want to know. Was
it over your mine? Then you must
not blame me, for he never has told
me a ^ord!”
“No?” inquired Bud, rousing sudden
ly at the memory of his wrongs. “Then
maybe you will tell me how he got
this”—he fetched a worn piece of ore
from his pocket—“when my pardner
gave it to you! It was right there I
lost my pardner—^nd he was a good
kid, too—and all because of that rock.
Here, take a look at it—I took that
away from your father!”
“Then he stole it from me!" flashed
back Gracia as she gazed at the speci
men. “Oh, have you thought all the
time that I betrayed Phil? But didn't
I tell you—didn't I tell you at the
; hotel, when you promised to be my
friend? Ah, I see that you are a hard
man, Mr. Hooker—quick to suspect,
slow to forget and yet I told you be
fore! But listen, and I will tell you
a^ain. 1 remember well when dear
1914. bv Frank A. Munsev '
1 hil showed me this rock—he was so
happy because he had found the gold!
And just to make it lucky he let me j
hold it while we were talking through
a hole in the wall. Then my father i
saw me and started to cup near—I
could not hand it back without betray
ing Phil and in the night, when I
was asleep, some one took it from un
der my pillow. That is the truth, and
I will ask you to believe me; and if
you have other things against me you
must say what they are and see if I
cannot explain.
‘‘No!” she ran on, her voice vibrant
with the memory of past quarrels, "I
“I'd Fight, Too!" Spoke Up Gracia.
have nothing to do with my father!
He does not love ine, but tries to make
me marry first one man and then an
other. But I am an American girl
now, at heart—I do not want to sell!
myself; 1 want to marry for love! Can
: you understand that? Yes? No? Then
why do you look away? Have you
something that you hold against me?
Ah, you shake your head—but you
wUl not speak to me? When X was at
school fn I.os Angeles I saw the cow
boys In the west show, and they were
different—they were not afraid of any
danger, but they w-ould talk, too. 1
have always wanted to know you, but
you will not let me—I • thought you
were brave—like those cowboys.”
She paused to make him speak, but
Hooker was tongue-tied. There wat
something about the way she talked
that pulled him over, that made hin
want to do what she said, and ye.
some secret, hidden voice was alwayt
crying: ‘‘Beware!’’ He was convlnceo
now that she had never been a part>
o treachery; no, nor even wishec
him ill.
She was very beautiful, too, |n thr
twilight, and when she drew nearei
he moved away, for he was afraid she
would sway him from hie purpose. But
now she was waiting for some an
swer—some word from him. though
the question had never been asked.
And yet he knew what it- was.
She wanted him to steal away with
her in the evening and ride for the
border—and Phil. That was what she
always wanted, no matter what she
said, and now she was calling him a
coward.
“Sure them bronco-riders are brave,"
he said in vague defense; “but there’s
a difference between being brave and
foolish. And a man might be brave fi'T
himself and yet be afraid for other
people."
“How do you mean?" she asked.
“Well,” he said, “I might be willing
to go out and fight a thousand of them
insurrectos with one hand, and at the
same time be afraid to take you along,
i Or I might—”
“Oh. then you will go, won't yon?”
she cried, clasping him by the hand.
“You will, won't you? I'm not afraid!”
“No,” answered Bud, drawing his
hand away, “that's just what I won’t
do! And I’ll tell you why. That coun
try up there is full of rebels—the low
est kind there are. It just takes one
shot to lay me out or cripple one of
our horses. Then I'd have to make a
fight for it—but what would happen
to you?”
“I'd fight, too!” spoke up Gracia
resolutely. "I'm not afraid."
“No,” grumbled Bud, “you don't
know them rebels. You've been shut
up in a house all the time—if you'd
been through what I have in the last
six months you'd understand what I
mean."
“If Phil were here, he’d take me!”
countered Gracia, and then Bud lost
his head.
“Yes,” he burst out. “that's jest
what's the matter with the crazy fool!
’ That’s jest why he’s up across the line
now a hollering for me to save his
girl! He’s brave, is he? Well, why
don’t he come down, then, and save
you himself? Because he's afraid to!
He’s afraid of getting shot or going up
against Manuel de] Kej;. Bj; grab, it
makes me tired the way you people
talk! If he'd done what 1 told him to
In the first place he wouldn't have got
into this jack-pct!”
“Oh my!” exclaimed Gracia, aghast.
“Why, what Is the matter with you?
And what did you tell him to do?”
“I told him to mind his own busi
ness,” answered Hooker bluntly.
"And what did he say?"
"He said he'd try anything—once!” !
Hud spat out the phrase vindictively, j
for his h'ood was up and his heart was
full of bitterness.
"Oh dear!" faltered Gracia. "And i
so you do not think that Phil is j
brave?”
"He’s brave to start things,” sneered
Bud. "bufnot to carry ’em through!"
For a moment Gracia huddled up
aralnst a pillar, her hand against her
face, as if to ward off a blow. Then
she lowered It slowly and moved re
in tantly away.
“1 must go now,” she said, and Bud
did not offer to stay her, for he saw
what his unkindness had done.
"I am sorry!" she added pitifully,
but he did not answer. There waa
nothing that he could say now.
In a moment of resentment, driven
to exasperation by her taunts, he had
forgotten his pledge to his pardner
and come between him and his girl.
That which he thought wild horses
cou'd not draw from him had flashed
out in a fit of anger—and the damage
was beyond amendment, for what he
had said was the truth.
CHAPTER XXIII.
There are two things, according to
the saying, which cannot be recalled—
the sped arrow and the spoken word.
Whether spoken in anger or in jest,
our winged thoughts will not come
back to us and, where there is no-balm
for the wound we have caused, there
is nothing to do but let it heal.
Bud Hooker was a man of few
words, and slow to speak ill of anyone,
hut some unfamiliar devil had loosened
his tongue and he had told the worst
about Phil. Certainly if a man were
the bravest of the brave, certainly if
he loved his girl more than life itself
—he would not be content to hide
above the line and pour out his eoul
on note-paper. But to tell It to the
girl—that was an unpardonable sin!
Still, sow that the damage waa done;
there was no use of vain repining, and
after cursing himself whole-heartedly
Bud turned in for the night. Other
days w’ere coming; there were favors
he might do; and perhaps, as the yes
terdays went by, Gracia would forgive
him for his plain speaking. Even to
morrow, if the rebels came back for
more, he might square himself in ac
tion and prove that he was not & ccw
ard. A coward!
It had been a long time since any
one had used that word to him, but
after the way he had knifed “dear ■
Phil” he had to admit he was it. But !
"dear Phil!” It was that which had
set him' off.
If she knew’ how many other girls—
but Bud put a sudden quietus on that
particular line of thought. As long as
the world stood and Gracia was in his
sight he swore never to speak ill of
De Lancey again, and then he went to
sleep.
The men who guarded the casa
grande slept uneasily on the porch,
lying down like dogs on empty sugar
sacks that the won^n might not lack
bedding inside. Even at that they were
better off, for the house was close and
feverish, with the crying of babies
and the babbling of dreamers, and
mothers moving to and fro.
It was a hectic night, but Bud slept
t out, and at dawn, after the custom
f his kind, he arose and stamped on
■>ot<! The moist coolness of th«
morning brought the odor ot wet
greasewood and tropic blossoms to his
nostrils as he stepped out to speak
with the guards, and as he stood there
waiting for the full daylight the mas
ter mechanic joined him.
He was a full-blooded, round-headed
little man with determined views on
life, and he began the day, as usual,
with his private opinion of Mexicans.
They were the same uncompNmentary
remarks to which he had given voice
on the day before, for the rebels had
captured one of his engines and h«
knew it would come to eome harm.
“A fine bunch of hombres, yes,” he
ended, “and may the devil fly away
with them! They took No. 9 at the
summit yesterday and I've been lis
tening ever since. Her pans are all
burned out and we’ve been feeding
her bran like a cow to keep her from
leaking steam. If some ignorant Mex
gets hold of her you’ll hear a big nois«
-—-that’ll be the last of No. 9—her
boiler will burst like a wet bag.
“If I was running this road there'd
be no more bran—not since what I saw
over at. Agiiascalientes on the Cen
tral. One of those bum, renegade en
gine drivers had burned out No. 743*
but the rebels had ditched four of otir
'best and we had to send her out. Day
after day the boys had been feeding
her bran until she smelled like a dis
tillery. The mash whs oozing out ot
her as Ben Tyrrell pulled up to th«
station, and a friend of bis that hjul
—————— ' (
come down from the north took on«
sniff and swung up Into the cab.
“Ben came down at the word he
whispered—for they’d two of ’em
blowed up in the north—and they sent
out another man. Hadn't got up the
hill when the engine exploded and
blew the poor devil to hell! 1 asked
Tyrrell what his friend had told him,
but he kept it. to himself until he could
get his time. It's the fumes, boy—
they blow up like brandy—and old No.
9 is sour!
"She'll likely blow up. too. But how
can we fix her with these ignorant
Mexican mechanics? You should have
been over at Aguas the day they fired
the Americans.
“ ‘No more Americanos,’ says Mar
dero, ‘let ’em all out and hire Mexi
cans! The national railroads of Mex
ico must not be in the hands of for
eigners.’
"So they fired us all in a day and
put a Mexican wood-psseer up in the
cab of old No. 313. He started to pull
a string of empties down the track,
threw on the air by mistake, and
stopped her on a dead-center. Pulled
out the throttle and she wouldn’t go,
so he gave it up and quit.
“Called In the master mechanic then
—a Mexican. He tinkered with her
for an hour, right there on the track,
until she went dead on their hand*.
Then they ran down a switch engine
and took back the cars and called on
the roadmaster—a Mex. He cracked
the nut—built a shoo-fly around No.
313 and they left her right there on
the main track. Two days later an
American hobo came by and set down
and laughed at 'em. Then he thrown
oft the brakes, gives No. 313 a boost
past the center with a crowbar, and
runs her to the roundhouse by gravity.
When we left Aguas on a handcar that
hobo was running the road.
“Ignorantest hombres in the world—
these Mexicans. Shooting a gun or
running an engine, it’s all the same—
they’ve got nothing above the eye*
j brows.”
“That's right,” agreed Bud, who had
been craning his neck; "but what's
that noise up the track?"
The master mechanic listened, and
when his ears, dulled by the clangor of
the shops, caught the diatsnt roar hn
turned and ran for the house.
“Git up, Ed!” he called to the road*
master, "they’re sending a wild car
down the canyon—and she may be
loaded with dynamite!”
| “Dynamite or not," mumbled thn
| grizzled roadmaster,’ as he roused up>
from his couch, “there’s’ a derailer I
put In up at kilometer Seventy the first
thing yesterday morning. That’ll send
her Into the ditch! ” ,
Nevertheless he listened intently,
cocking his head to guess by tb«
sound wsen it came to kilometer
seventy.
"Now she strikes It!” he announced,
as tlfe rumble turned into a roar; but
the roar grew louder, there was n
crash as the trucks struck a curve,
and then a great metal ore-car swung
round the point, rode up high as it
hit the reverse and, speeding by as if
shot from a catapult, swept through
the yard: smashed into a freight car,
and leaped, car and all. Into the creek.
"They’ve sneaked my derailer!” said
the roadmaster, starting on a run for
the shops. “Who’ll go with me to put
In another one? Or we’ll loosen a rail
on the curve—that'll call for no more
than a clawbar and a wrench!"
“Ill go!” volunteered Bud and the
man wiho stood guard, and as startled
sleepers roused up on every side and
ran toward the scene of the wreck
they dashed down the hill together and
threw a handcar on the track.
Then, with what tools they could
get together, and a spare derailer on
the'front, they pumped madly up the
canyon, holding their breaths at every
curve for fear of what they might sea.
If there was one runaway car there
was another, for the rebels were be
ginning an attack.
Already on the ridges above them
they could hear the crack of riftep, and
a jet or two of dust made It evident
that they were the mark. But With
three strong men at the handles they
made the handcar Jump The low hills
fled behind them. They rounded a
point and the open track lay before
them, with something—
“Jump!” shouted the roadmaater,
and as they tumbled down the bank
they heard a crash behind them and
their nandcar was knocked Into kind
ling wood.
It was a close call for all three
men and tbera had been but an In
stant between them and death, a
death by the most approved fighting
methods of the revolutionlats, methods
which kept the fighters out of harm’a
waj.
CONTINUED IN NEXT ISSUE.
"There Ain’t fie- Such Animal."
in the igtyeilt bf tr laf-ge and grow
ing class, vital to the humor of the
community, newspapers must stop
talking about a "fool-proof biplane.”
“There ain't no suck animal," and
fools who are not reckless will still
keep their feet on the ground.—Brook
lyn Eagle.