Logansport Pharos-Tribune from Logansport, Indiana on December 9, 1897 · Page 23
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Logansport Pharos-Tribune from Logansport, Indiana · Page 23

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Logansport, Indiana
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Thursday, December 9, 1897
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CH \rTEKS1.—At the beginning of the civil •war Valentine Weidoa was 8U8p*;cudor ihe murder of bis brother Fred -ri;k, wbo had disappeared, nr. Blaujhurd marritii their sister. He became a widower, and years ufter the supoOBCd murder went west with his children. Howt'd. Alice and CLara.Captaln Brandon PO ducted the train when it reached the far west. Two bad cnaracters. Henry Kyle ard front Kobb, joined them 11—Henry Kfla soon leaves the tra'n a.nd ylslis her fntner und Bister Norn, who attempt to turj hldo from his evil life. Ill—Two lawyers named Bliss come to the wPst from Virginia to attempt to force toe Blanch irda to reiinqult.li the We.don estate, t'se liii'ses ally themselves *ith one Uiuton nnd his prtDjr, who are ready for any villa! jy IV—Louis Kyle, Henry Kyle's brother warns Captain Urundon ajrainst Bouton's rang V —The aliases accuse l>r. Blancard of hav- insc murdered his wife. Vf — Louis Kj-le enlists a flirhtlnif hermit culled the Prophet in ^behalf of the Blaachards against Bouton., —* CHAPTER VIL In a former chapter it was said that Captain Brandon placed the utmost reliance in all but one of his men, and to this man he could not opeiily%how his (mspicion. His name was Patch, and he was employed at Omaha to drive one of the mule teams. Short, thickset and ballet headed, Patch looked an ideal prizefighter, an effect heightened by a broken nose and the absence of front teeth. Patch was very taciturn beyond the professional swearing at his mules, profanity being considered on the plains as essential to the mule's progress and usefulness as harness. He rarely spoke, and he never joined the people about the campfire in the evenings. His great delight was to sit on the •wagon box and chew tobacco. He actually devoured great black slabs of it. From this perch he would watch the immigrants, or rather he would watch one of them, Clara Blanchard. He followed her every movement with his red rimmed eyes, and at times was so fascinated as to fall into a mesmeric state and sleep on the box all night Patch submitted to Captain Brandon's discipline. He had a dread of the tall guide, and would have offered no resistance had that person kicked him, but behind this show of obedience the debased spirit was in revolt. He would have deserted at once but for the fascination that kept him within the sight of Clara Blanchard. Through his dim brain the thought crept, "If I was to help bust this outfit up, them Bouton chaps niout let me have charge of her like a kinder reward.'' While watching his mules that day Patch discovered something which had escaped the notice of Captain Brandon and which could not have been thought of by Boutou's party—viz, the river, on which the semicircular corral wall abutted, was so shallow at the upper part of the camp and for many yards v.p the river that it could be waded without reaching a depth above the knee, and in this way the place could be surprised and taken in the rear. Patch •was on guard the first half of the night, and it can be said that he was too much absorbed in the contemplated treachery to give any thought to the duties or dangers of his position. He listened eagerly to everything that was said, and the instant he was relieved he resolved to test the practicability of his own scheme. He succeeded in reaching the outlaw camp and was brought before Bouton, who ut once asked: ' 'Are there many more like you over in that camp?" "No, boss, there ain't another one. I •was mighty lonely over there, and that's why I left" "Left?" repeated Bouton. "Yes. Lit out" "You're a deserter, then?" "As full blowed and fresh a one as you ever clapped eyes on," chuckled the •wretch. ' 'I can give you a few wrinkles that'll open your eyes." "Well, what are they?" Patch lowered his voice to make his words more impressive and confidential, and then told of his discovery and offered to guide Bouton and his men. ' 'But what if you are a spy and want to lead us to destruction?'' asked Bouton, who in his heart felt that the wretch was sincere in his villainy. "Couldn't you shoot me down at once if you seed I was givin yon away?" Bouton believed the renegade and was r#soived to try his plan at once. Two hours of daylight remained, time sufficient to win and to have an hour to spare. "One-half of the force will be sufficient," said Boiitou. "Get ready, men, as I call your names." He was selecting his men when Black Eaglo sped in from the darkness and stood {rasping in their midst. "What is it. Black Eagle? Speak!" shouted Bouton, alarmed at the manner of the voune: Shoshone. "Henry Kyle"— "What of him?" "Killed, we fear! Come, come! Captain Brandon is back in the hills!" And Black Eagle waved his arms in the direction from which he had come. After Captain Brandon left the camp —ostensibly to find the man who had been firing at them all day, but really to spy out the enemy and to get a good •idea of their force and raise the siege if feasible by a bold dash—he crept to the gommit of the cliff and found the rifleman's post deserted. From this vantage ground he could count the men about there and see exactly where the vedettes rare posted. Satisfied with the surrey and resolved to lead a dash on the •leeping outlaws, he started back to his own camp by a circuitous route that led him farthest away from the enemy. Hft had gone safely over half the distance when he came to a halt by. hear* Ing low voices near Dy. Captiim '±si dou crouched down behind a rock and listened. The voices soon ceased, and he could hear the light, quick step of an "Are there many more Uke you over in that camp"" Indian as he glided back to the outlaw camp. He also heard the clicking of Henry Kyle's rifle as he paced the hill with a step as noiseless as the falling of a leaf. , la this trying situation Captain Brandon never lost his presence of mind. He reasoned that it would be fatal to bring on a conflict there and that if he could strike the river at a point higher up he could swim down till he reached his own camp. He started to carry out this plan, but in a short time found his course blocked by a precipitous mass of rocks that was the extension of a mountain spur abutting on the river. He turned with the intention of finding a path to the water, when suddenly, on rounding a bowlder, he found himself face to face with Henry Kyle. With the strength of a giant and the quickness of a tiger the captain threw himself upon this m;m and bore him to the ground. The rifle fell from the younger man's grasp as he was in the act of falling, and the captain did not attempt to use his. Henry Kyle's first impulse was to shout to his companions for aid, but the lion in his nature asserted itself before the cry rose to his lips. He had a young man's pride in his strength and activity. Man to man he felt himself to be the peer of the best. Why should he f ear this white headed man single handed? He did not fear him. With an effort that amazed the captain Henry struggled to his feet and tried to reach his knife, but the iron grip on his arm tightened and he could feel his muscles crushing and his veins swelling painfully below where the hard hand grasped him. "Not a word, Surrender at once," hissed the captain, "or I will crush yon to death." " "You surrender," replied the young man with a fierce oath, "for you cannot get away from me.'' "Deluded"wretch! If I could meet all your baud one or two at a time this way the work of destroying them would be simple, but I have pity for you, pity for the mother that they say still loves you,'' said the captain. And as he spoke " he seized the knife in the young man's belt and sent it rattling down the rocks. "I do not want your pity! Curse you! Release me or I will go at yon with my teeth!" This was shouted in a voice of mingled anger and pain, and the cry was heard down the river by the Indians. "Hold him, Henry! Hold him!" cried Black Eagle. "Hurry, hurry!" was the response. Captain Brandon heard the Sioux and. Shoshoues advancing, and knew that self preservation demanded prompt action. "On your own head be the blood, then,'' he said. The young man tried to tear himself away, but he was as a child in this man's hands. He felt himself being lifted bodily into the air and poised there for an instant; then he knew no more. The Indians, who came a moment afterward, found Henry Kyle crushed and bleeding on the rocks. CHAPTER TIH. "Do not try to change me," repeated Louis Kyle, It was an appeal to his father rather than an assertion of his own inflexible determination. "I cannot read your past," he went on, ' 'but I see my own present, and I must work for my own future. This I Will do with love for you, my mother and Nora, but do not force me to diso- bev by asking me to run counter to my own sense of duty." "He has his uncle Frederick's spirit and his uncle Frederick's ways. O Gcd, O God!" cried the agonized father, and his fingers again interlocked and his head fell forward on his breast "An uncle Frederick!" exclaimed Louis. ' 'I never heard you speak of him before." "He is dead," wailed the distracted father. "Oh, Valentine! Tell him all! Tell him all!" cried Mrs. Kyle, coming over and kneeling beside her husband, with her white hands pressed about his, so hard and brown. "Ease yonr heart by telling Louis all A knowledge of the one rash act of your life wiH not quench his love." "Oh. nor father. Cxew can be no act spoonfuls are required, of in the past that woulcl change me. You have been to me from my earliest memory my ideal of all that is brave, self denying and noble. I ask not to lift the m*£MD »i your jsst. but- ue.ir me—believe me that I would die to sure you now; that I am ready to bear with you all the troubles of the past and to share with you all 'the burden they have brought. For many years I have noticed that the shadow of a great affliction hung over your .'; "art, and I have yearned to dispel it oy the sunshine of my own love. Bur do not let us yield to despair; there arc-four of us left," he continued, drawing Nora to his side and kissing her wet cheeks. "If need be, I will give up all else to make you happy, but I should scorn myself if I did not follow the light that I have, and that light leads me to act for your good as well as mine.'' ' 'Trust him, husband. Trust Louis,'' pleaded Mrs. Kyle. Valentine Kyle heaved a sigh, and, compressing his lips, raised his agonized face to the ceiling. Could he open his heart to his own son—to this only son, for the other was worse than dead—and show him there the blood stains that had remained fresh through all the years since that awful night? The conflict between desire and shame, duty and love, the confirmed habit of secrecy and the fear of letting in more light, and of knowing what his son might think of him, was fearful but brief. "I will tell Louis all, all, "he said, straightening up, with such an expression on his face as brave men wear when the ship is sinking beneath them. "Shall Nora and I withdraw?" asked Mrs. Kyle, taking her daughter's hand and leading her toward the door. "Yes, wife, and tell her the whole truth. The years have made our secret too big and heavy for two to bear. We thought that time would obliterate it, but it has grown and grown and gnawed into my soul like rusting fetters on the limbs of a prisoner.'' Mrs. Kyle bowed and with Nora left the room and quietly closed the door behind her. When they were alone, Louis said, ' 'Let us sit side by side, father, and "let me hold your hand as when I was a child.'' "No, no, Louis, you cannot hold my hand till you have beard my story, for as I speak you might fling it from you with scorn, and. that would kill me." ' 'I swear to you by that God whom you taught me to worship that I could not do such a deed if I saw your arm reddened by the blood of the innocent to the shoulder," cried Louis with impassioned intensity. "Do you see this hand, my son?" Mr. Kyle held his right ana up and spread out the fingers. "I do, father." "Does it differ from other hands?" "It is brave and gentle and strong. Yes, yes, it differs from every hand in the world. It is my father's hand.'' "It is the hand of a murderer," said the father, sinking his voice and speaking so rapidly that his nostrils dilated and his hungry eyes were eating into his son's startled face. "Of amurderer?" Louis trembled and turned pale under the blow. "Yes, of a murderer; of a fratricidal murderer. I slew niy "brother 18 years ago— m y brother Frederick, your uncle, "It is the hand of a murderer." and the bravest, finest man on whom .God's sunshine ever fell That is why I took my wife and two baby boys and fled into *>"'g •wilderness. That is why I thought the sihadow of these everlasting hillg would shield my face from men and my sin from heaven. Bnt the very solitnde that promised relief has but intensified the consciousness of the crime that has blasted my life." Overcome •with emotion, Valentine Kyle kneeled beside foe bed and buried his face in his hands. This startling but indefinite confession overwhelmed LWW fora moment, but only 'for a moment. Springing from his chair he went over and knelt beside bis father, and, encircling his neck with his right arm, he raised his face with the other, and, kissing it, said: ' 'Malice never acts rashly, and your life has atoned f cr your rashness. I have heard your sin. and, looking back on the past that has resulted from it, I feel that reparation has been made. But. be that as it may, know this, my father, my heart has gone out more and more to you for this confidence. God pity the man who ever refuses the hand of the old father than cared for him as you have for me. Do not draw it away. I shall take it. See, father, see! I am pressing that right hand to my lips as I often did when a child, and I am bathing it white with the tears of my love. " Louis Kyle did take the trembling hand and h& did kiss it, and the hot tears of his pitying love fell on it like a cleansing hyssop. "Oh, my sou, ruyson! O God, I thank thee!" The father turned as one turns from the darkness in which he has been groping to the golden ray that pierces the gloom and marks the pathway up to the light. His arms were about his boy— again his baby boy, though the cheeks he pressed were bronzed and bearded. And they knelt there side by side, their hands clasped and their heads bowed and their suppressed sobs breaking the stillness. So they were kneeling when Nora and her mother came back and softly entered the room and bowed down be»de them. Louis was the first to rise, and he reached down and lifted his father up beside him, and there was a light on Valentine Kyle's face that had never been there before. The burden .had fallen off, and he felt as one who has come to ihe mountain tops from the Stygian depths. "My brother Frederick," said Mr Kyle, as we shall continue to call Valentine Weldon, after all had composed themselves, "at the time of the great war was a strong Union man, and I as strongly advocated the other side. Up to this there never had been a misunderstanding between us—even as boys we never quarreled, as the best of brothers are apt to do. But at the beginning of that terrible war men were seized with excitement, and the stronger the past love the stronger seemed the hate that flamed up between, those that took opposite views. "I never knew Frederick to drink before that day, and I, ever excitable and impetuous, had never drunk so much. I was not myself. A friend had presented me with a sword, and in my mad vanity I had strapped it to my side and wore it as I rode home with my brother: We got into a dispute about the north and south. He was cool, so cool that it maddeiied me. A storm came up, and by the flashing of the lightning I could see his pale face and gleaming eyes, and, as God is iny judge, when we halted on the banks of Beaver creek to see if the rain had swollen the ford, I thought I saw a pistol in Frederick's hand. Too late I learned my mistake. Excepting that cursed sword I was unarmed. How I drew it and how, by the lightning's flash, I saw it splitting down his face seems like the memory of a fevered dream. "He fell from his horse with a cry of 'O God, my brother!' The next instant I was down and beside him. I hurled the sword into the current. I felt his face and the blood spurted out on my right arm. From forehead to chin the blade had cut By the lightning's gleam I saw that he was dead. I heard horsemen behind me and a craven fear came upon me. I flung myself into the saddle and dashed into the stream. I reached home; told my wife all; kissed my baby boys and fled into the mountains. There I remained for months without taking part in the conflict that was raging around me." "Then it was that you knew of the Blanchards," said Louis, coming back to a subject that would assert itself. ' 'Dr. Blanchard's wife was my sister Mary, your aunt," replied Mr. Kyle. "And these young ladies and Howard Blanchard are our cousin?" "They are." "And it is because of your misfortune —for a terrible misfortune it was, rather than a wrong—that you do not wish your relatives to know of your whereabouts, and why you want me to keep away from them?" "Yes, Louis, thftfc and more," replied Mr. Kyle. "What more?" "Perhaps I should not tell yon, bnt it is better that you should know all" Mr. Kyle hesitated and his wife said, "Tell them all, Valentine, tell them ill." -v , - stern to But i blood ; has Some «ome • they than , John "The Weldons were o rigid, . and religions people, until they began intermarry with the Blanchards. "" perhaps I should not cry down that runs in ray own veins. Still it cursed us and you should know it. one child of each such union has become reckless and gone to the bad, bur have wronged themselves more they have others. My grandfather, "\Veidou, hated them, :md I blamed much for his treatment- of the Blanchards. But since I have had years to think it over I feel that the alliance was bad. Each in its purity was good enough, bat rhe French Huguenot and rhe Scotch-Irish strain made a bad mixture in our case.'' "And for this reason you would have me remain aloof?"' "For this reason, my son, and another that is even greater,'' replied Mr. Kyle. '"You mean the fear that Henry and I shall nicer?" Mr. Kyle nodded his head, but did not dare to speak. [COSTINTED.] I ROAST GOOSE. How to Select the Ulrd and How to Cook It. Geese are generally in prime condition at this season of the year, and if young and fat and properly stuffed with sage and potato dressing make most acceptable roasts. A goose over a year old is a strong, greasy bird aud is not now considered fit for food. Select on**for roasting that weighs about four or five pounds. A larger bird is too tough. An old one has tough wings, and the lower part, of the beak has hardened. If the beak does not break easily, aud if the tip of the breastbone is not flexible, the bird is too' old. It is said that unscrupulous poultry dealers try to break the breastbones of old geeise so that they will be flexible, but it is doubtful whether this could be done without the fraud being detected. The fat of an old goose is dark, that -of a young one light and translucent. After picking and drawing the bird carefully remove all the fat that can be reached under the skin and from the inside. This should be saved and fried out later for goose grease, but it is of no value in cooking, and if left in the bird gives it a coarse, rank flavor. Wash the bird inside and outside and wipe it dry. If you desire, use the time honored stuffing of potatoes and sage. Season the goose on the inside with salt aud pepper, stuff it with the dressing and truss it into shape like a turkey. It can be stuffed with the same dressing as a turkey, but an extra flavoring of chopped ouiou should be added to it. Put the goose on its back on a rack in a dripping pan, dredging salt, pepper and a liberal amount of flour over it, and sec ic in au extra hot oven to roast. When it begins to boil, put a pint of boiling water uri'der it and turn it over on its side. In a few minutes begin to baste it, dredging it with salt, pepper and flour after each basting. Let it cook a full hour and a half, basting aud dredging it every 15 minutes. Let it roast for the last quarter of an hour or longer on its back. When it is well browned and thoroughly done, put it on a platter. Skim off all the fat in the dripping pan, add a cup of water or of stock, if convenient, and thicken with flour. When the mixture boils up thoroughly, season. Strain and serve it as gravy with the goose. Always serve a dish of tart apple sauce with roast goose. A goose from 3 to 4 months of age is called "green." It is then esteemed a special delicacy. It is never stuffed, but is treated like a game bird. Bow to Ward" Off the Appearance of Ajgis The theory-that nerve troubles seriously affect the complexion has been generally accepted now. If yon become aged, looking for clouda instead of sunshine, seek the latter and make those around yon admire your bright, face and cheerful manner. To evade the invasion of age, the face and neck should be thoroughly massaged by a magnetic person. After the muscles and nerves are in a normal condition through a course of this treatment the face and neck can be kept in this healthful condition by a course of personal care. Devote 10 or 15 minutes daily, and always use for these treatments an oil which acts as a substitute for soap and water and which will cleanse the pores of all effete matter. Only sach oils should be used aa are indorsed by reliable physicians. Steaming is very beneficial before the massage is given, bnt the face should be first anointed with the cleansing oil. Intense steaming should never be resorted to as it parches the skin. How to" Dress Scant ZXX&B. Cut into different available lengths all the hair except just enough to make one loop, which, fastened with a handsome comb and backed by an aigret, a loop of ribbon or a bow, will take the place of a coil. The short lengths should then be curled, waved and puffed. In this way the head will be loosely dressed and the effect required will be secured. It seems accepted that the outline of the head at the back xnust not be followed. In case of the much to be desired, stacks the great coils or loose loops sufficiently disguise at that point, but where the hair is thin the outline must; be hidden by fluffed out locks. Fluff does not mean what it used to— mere dryness and feathery lightness will not do now. The round of each ringlet, the curve of each puff, mnst shine. This means that the hair must be absolutely clean and that it murt then be brushed «r dressed to gloss. How to Clean frano Key*. When the keys of a piano are dirty, they should be cleaned with a little gin and whiting mixed to a wet paste. Bub a little on each key; then polish with a noft dry cloth, or an old silk handkerchief is best Care must be taken not to V>t the paste get between the keya. ITCHING SKIN DISEASES SPKKPT CUE* TR**.T5EKvr for torturing. dltfi^ Wing. Itching, burning, and scaly sfctn «ud scalp diseases vriilUo»s or b»tr. — 'WarTO bstlis wliliCo- Tiers*. $OAI\ penile appllcxtfoc* of Uuriccav )inrmeatj, and full do**^ of Ctmccsu Ki ' humor c O>« -rorld. Dura * Cmu. Posr.. Srie Pr»n«-. BO.IOH. at- " Ho* to Curo Itehint Skin Dixua, 'fl««. RED ROUGH PECK'S COMPOUND CURES-*- " Nervousness. Nervous Prostration, Nervous aod Sick Headachy Indigestion, Loss of Appetite, Rheumatism, ^ Neuralgia, Scrofula, Scrofulous Hamon, Syphilitic Affection*. Boils, Pimplea, Constipation, Paios in the Back, Costiveness, Biliousness, and all diseases arising from an impure state of the Blood .'or low condition of the Nervoo* System. For sale by Ben Fisher, Busjaho Schneider, "W. H. Porter, J". F. Goalson, B. F. Keesltng. THE NEW WOMAN DR. F»KP«ff«IN'« Pennyroyal Pills SAFE, SURE AND RELIABLE ftDQ. wvjn; jj«-» wi/uwi* . *-^-»»^ ^HH*,"*"" "T~*«""~ T ~* Sure and Rtlltblt Fem&le P11L Price, *l.M)pei box. Sent by mall upon receipt of prioai Addies« all order* to adTertl»cd»«;cnto. PERRIN MEDICINE CO., NCW YQNK Sold by B. F.: i>f the Work* t« B«c*** L FELD^FLOWERS OK EugcM TkWimtMK* SMN* ITie most DOtntMul Art ProdnrttoB of the «4* fury. -A •«•«« »»»<* «f tfc. ••«*: t™*™" 4 -"Jy [Dm i^» mi >w •••.»» -w— .——vj f.r«".Yl*Te." Contain* a •election of ttt tx-nulifulof thepo«ji»of Eugene field. -—-- somely illustrated by Oity-five ot the «ort« jrealcst artists as thei ' coatribndra to the Mo»r jmctl Fund. Bit tor U« »oM« co»t»««tl«« •*« jrtat artl»t» tal> fcwk owl* »«t k»»< m«d (« ^-"o. For sale at book prepaid on receipt of Ji-io. .^? < i.'P7*jTi-7Kr: (b* Oiild's Poet ^"»<a". JESVf^i^^SSS • a fond to bttUd tbe MOUTIM»» "I contacted a eetne cold tram eipoeore. Coughed til winter. Ooold get no relief. Dr. Wood'i Norway Pine Sjrap broke up tbe cold, tad drove awty tbe cold. Never took anything that did me eo much good." I. H. Brooki,

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