Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, November 14, 1913, Image 1
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l.x.geist'8 sons, Publishers. j , ''"'$ 4amil8 ?e?spaj)^: ^or ih^ gromotionoj lh$ political, ?oqial, ^jri^itnral and Commrtriat Jntercsts of th< JJeojlj. | """Vm^oU^vJcto"?1'
ESTABLISHED 1855. - ~ yO RK VILLE. R C., FRIDAY, NOVEMBER 14,1913: NO. 81.
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BY MAR1
FROM THE PLAY 0
Copyright, 1912, by the H. K. :
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CHAPTER XH.
Aftermath of Tragedy.
The Gliders, both father and son,
Miituwl mnnh anffprlne throughout the
night and day that followed the scene
In Mary Turner's apartment, when she
had made known the accomplishment
of her revenge on the older man by her
ensnaring of the younger.
Dick had followed the others out of
her presence at her command, emphasised
by her leaving him alone when
he would have pleaded further with
her. Since then he had striven to obtain
another interview with his bride,
but she had refused him. He was denied
admission to the apartment Only
the maid answered the ringing of the
telephone, and his notes were seem(nariv
unheeded.
Distraught by this violent interjection
of torment into a life that hitherto
had known no lmporant suffering,
Dick Gilder showed what mettle of
man lay beneath his debonair appearance.
And that mettle was of a kind
worth while. He did not for an instant
believe that she was guilty of
the criipe with which she had been
originally charged and for which she
had served a sentence in prison. For
the rest, he could understand in some
degree how the venom of the wrong
inflicted on her had poised her nature
through the years, till she had worked
out its evil through the scheme of
which he was the innocent victim. He
cared little for the fact that recently
she had devoted herself to devious devices
for making money, to ingenious
schemes for legal plunder.
So, in the race 01 mis cuutsiiv^uc,
where & less love must have been destroyed
utterly, Dick remained loyal.
His p&sionate regard did not falter for
a moment. It never even occurred to
him that he might cast her off; might
yield to his father's prayers, and
abandon her.
The father suffered with the son. He
was a proud man, intensely gratified
over the commanding posltlon> to
which he had achieved in the commercial
world, proud of his business
integrity, of his standing in the community
as a leader, proud of his social
position, proud most of all of the son
whom he so loved. Now, this hideous
disaster threatened his pride at every
turn?worse, it threatened the one person
in the world whom he really loved.
TI~ that his son loved the
woman?nor could he wonder much at
that. His keen eyes had perceived
Mary Turner's graces of form, her
loveliness of face. He had apprehended,
too, in some measure at least,
the fineness of her mental fiber and the
capacities of her heart. Deep within
him, denied any outlet, he knew here
lurked in a curious, subtle sympathy
for the girl in her scheme of revenge
against himself.
Gilder, in his library this night, was
pacing impatiently to and fro, eagerly
listening for the sound of his son's return
to the house. He was anxious
for the coming of Dick, to whom he
would make one more appeal. If that
should fall?well, he must use the in"
* a
fluenees at tils command iu ocguiv uiv
forcible parting of the adventuress
from his son.
Finally the son entered the room
and went at once to his father, who
was standing waiting, facing the door.
"I'm awfully sorry I'm so late, dad,"
he said simply.
"Where have you been?" the father
demanded gravely. But there was
great affection in the Aash of his gray
eyes as he scanned the young man's
face, and the touch of the hand that
he put on Dick's shoulder was very
tender. "With that woman again?"
"No, father, not with her. She won't
see me."
"Naturally! She's got all she wanted
from you?my name!"
"It's mine, too, you know, sir."
Gilder looked at his son with a
strange, new respect.
"Dick," he cried?"boy. you are all I
have In the world. You will have to
free yourself from this woman somehow.
You owe me that much."
"I owe something to her, too, dad."
"What can you owe her? She tricked
you Into the marriage. Why, legally
It's not even that. There's been
nothing more than a wedding ceremony.
We must get you out of the
scrape."
'T?m not sure that I want to get out
of It, father."
"You want to stay married to this
Jail bird!"
"I'm very fond of her."
"Now that you know?"
"Now that I know." Dick said distinctly.
"Don't you see, father? Why,
she is Justified in a way?in her own
mind anyhow, I mean. She was innocent
when she was sent to prison."
"Don't talk to me about her innocence.
There's only one course open
to you, my boy. You must give this
girl up. If you don't what are you
going to do the day your wife is
thrown into a patrol wagon and carried
to police headquarters, for it's
sure to happen? The c!everest of people
make mistakes, and some day
she'll make one."
Dick threw out his hands in a gesture
of supreme denial. But the father
wept on remorselessly.
"They will stand her up where the
detectives will walk past her with
masks on their faces. Her picture, of
- the rncfues' tral
course, is ?uicau; ... .... _
lery, but they will take another?yes.
and the Imprints of her fingers and
the measurements of her body."
The son was writhing under the
words. The woman of whom these
things were said was the woman who
he loved. Yet every word had in it
the piercing, horrible sting of truth.
"That's what they will do to your
wife," Gilder went on harshly, "to the
woman who bears your name and
mine. What are you going to do about
it?"
"It will never happen. She will go
straight, dad. That I know. You
> ? ? ? ? ?*? *?* ? ? ? ?
THE LAW
ITIN DANA
F BAYARD YEILLER
Fly company.
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I would know If you only knew her as I j
do."
Gilder was In despair. What argu1
ment could avail him? He cried out
1 sharpe!y in desperation.
"Do you realize what you're doing?
Don't go to pmash, Dick, just at the
beginning of your life. Oh, I beg you,
boy, stop! Put this girl out of your
thoughts and start fresh. Tou're all I
have, my boy."
"Yes, dad," came the answer. "If 1
could avoid it I wouldn't hurt you for
anything in the world. I'm sorry, dad.
awfully sorry"? He hesitated, then
his voice rang out clearly: "But I
muat fight this out by myself?fight It
1 out In my own way. And I'm going to
do it!"
The butler entered.
"A man to see you, sir," he said.
The master took the card. "Very
well." he said, "show him up." His
glance met the wondering graze of his
son.
"What on earth can h? want?at this
< ?*,rv /\f nIrvK TMr?lr nvnlalmtwl
lltlic VI ilinuV v*vn
"Tou may as well get used to visits
from the police.'
A moment later Inspecor Burke entered
the room.
"She's skipped!" he said triumphantly.
Dick made a step forward. His eyes
flashed, and there was anger in his
voice as he replied:
"I don't believe it."
"She left this morning for Chicago,"
Burke said, lying with a manner that
long habit rendered altogether convincing.
"I told you she'd go." He
turned to the father and spoke with an
ml.
"I owe something to her, too, dad."
air of boastful good nature. "Now, all
you have to do Is to get this boy out
of the scrape and you'll be all right."
"If we only could!" The cry came
with deepest earnestness from the Hps
of Gilder, but there was little hope 1
his voice.
"I guess we can find a way to have
the marriage annulled or whatever
they do to marriages that don't take,"
said Burke.
The brutal assurance of the man In
thus referring to things that were sacred
moved Dick to wrath.
"Don't you interfere," he said.
Nevertheless Burke held to the
topic.
"Interfere! Huh!" he ejaculated,
grinning broadly. "Why, that's what
I'm paid to do. Listen to me, son. The
minute you begin mixing up with
crooks you ain't in a position to give
orders to any one. The crooks have
got no rights in the eyes of the police.
Just remember that."
But Dick was not listening. His
thoughts were again wholly with the
woman he loved, who, as the inspector
declared, had fled from him.
"Where's she gone in Chicago?"
Burke answered in his usual grufT
fashion, but with a note of kindliness
that was not without its effect on
Dick.
"I'm no mind reader," he said. "But
she'll proably stop at the Blackstone?
that is, until the Chicago police are
tipped ofT that she is in town."
The face of the young man took on
a totally different expression. He went
close to the inspector and spoke with
intense. seriousness.
"Burke," he said pleadingly, "give
me a cbance. I'll leave lor umcitgu m
the morning:. Give me twenty-four
hours start before you begin hounding
her."
The inspector smiled acquiescence.
"Seems reasonable," he admitted.
"No, no, Dick!" the father cried.
"You shall not go! You shall not go!"
The inspector shot a word of warning
to Gilder in an aside that Dick
could not hear.
"Keep still," he replied. "It's all
right."
"You give me your word, inspector."
Dick said, "that you won't notify the
police in Chicago until I've been there
twenty-four hours?'
"You're on," Burke replied genially.
"They won't get a whimper out of me
until the time is up."
"Then I'll go." Dick smiled rather
wrvnlv at his father. "You know, dad,
I'm sorry, but I've got to do what I
think is the right thing."
It was not until the door was closed
after Dick that Burke spoke.
"He'll go to Chicago in the morning,
you think, don't you?" he asked.
"Certainly," Gilder answered. "But
I don't like it."
"Best thing that could have happened!
You see, he won't find her
there."
"Where did she go then?" Gilder
inquired, wholly at a loss.
"Nowhere yet. But just about the
time he's starting for the west I'll
have her down at headquarters. Demarest
will have her indicted before
1 noon. She'll go to trial In the after1
noon, and tomorrow night she'll be
sleeping up river. That's where she
Is going!"
Gilder stood motionless for a moment.
"But," he said wonderlngly,
"you can't do that."
"Well, perhaps I can't, but I will!"
Suddenly his face grew hard. His
heavy jaw shot forward aggressively
as he spoke.
"Think I'm going to let that girl
make a Joke of the police department?
Why, I'm here to get her, to stop her
anyhow. Her gang is going to break
into your house tonight"
"What?" Gilder demanded. "You
mean she's coming here as a thief?"
"Not exactly," Inspector Burke confessed,
"but her pals are coming to
try to pull off something right here.
She wouldn't come, not if I know her.
She's too clever for that. Why, if she
knew that Garson was planning to
do, she'd stop him."
The Inspector paused suddenly. For
a long minute his face was seamed
with thought. Then he smote his
thigh with a blow strong enough to
kill an ox. His face was radiant.
"I've got her!" he cried. He went
to the desk where the telephone was
and took up the receiver.
"Give me S100 Spring," he said. As
he wa'lted for the connection he smiled
widely on the astonished Gilder.
"Headquarters?" he called. "Inspector
Burke speaking. Who's in my office?
I want him quick." He smiled
as he listened, and he spoke again to
Gilder. "It's Smith, the best man I
have. That's luck,- if you ask me,"
Then again he spoke into the mouthpiece
of the telephone.
"Oh, Ed, send some one up to that
Turner woman. You have the address.
Just see that she is tipped off that Joe
Garson and some pals are going to
break into Edward Gilder's house tonight.
Get some stoop pigeon to hand
her the Information. You'd better get
to work quick. Understand?"
The inspector hung up the receiver
and faced his host with a contented
smile.
"What good will all that do?" Glider
demanded impatiently.
"She'll come to stop 'em. When we
get the rest of the gang we'll grab her
too. Just, call your man for a minute
will you, Mr. Gilder?"
Gilder pressed the electric button
on his desk. At the same moment, j
through the octagonal window, came
a blinding flash of light that rested
for seconds, then vanished. Burke
was startled by the mysterious radiance.
!
I ?* 11 CI I IXC uciiiauucu oucttp
ly.
"It's the flash light from the Metropolitan
tower," Gilder explained. "It
swings around this way about every
fifteen minutes. The servant forgot
to draw the curtains."
(To Be Continued).
ARTE8IAN WELL8
- - ^
Facts About Underground Water in
Vicinity of Washington.
Artesian basins, or the underground
water supply which furnishes artesian
wells with their constantly flowing
streams, sometimes spouting to a considerable
height above the surface, are
often popularly referred to as "subterranean
rivers," which are believed
to "flow" at great depths, eventually
finding theirHvay to the surface to feed
some visible stream. Or they are
thought to exist as great caverns or
reservoirs deep down in the earth,
which, if tapped by the drill, furnish
the tremendous flows of water which
characterize some of our largest artesian
wells?seven wells?several hundred
thousand?and even In some case
half a million gallons a day. It is true
that artesian waters are stored up in
underground reservoirs, but they are
not of this character. Most artesian
water supplies consist simply of water
filled strata of sandstone or other porous
rock material, through which the
water very slowly percolates, confined
from above and below by other strata
of impervious rock or clay. Through
this inclosed laver of porous rock the
water works its way with infinite slowness,
following the dip or slant of the
rock, and, where tapped, coming to the
surface if the surface at this point be
below the source of supply. Coarse
sandstone is capable of holding a great
quantity of water, as much as six
quarts per cubic foot; but the rate of
its movement through this rock is so
slow as to be almost inappreciable.
To illustrate how slowly the water
travels: Many artesian or flowing wells
are found along the Potomac river at
Colonial Beach and other points in Virginia
about sixty miles of Washington.
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I HIS WttlCI IS UUiailiCU vjr Uin,iiih Uiw
sandstone fprmations which extends
along the Potomac valley and into
Maryland and outcrops near Frederick,
Md., some fifty miles north of Washington.
It takes about 100 years for
the water of this "subterranean river"
to flow that distance?that is, the rains
falling upon the exposed portions of th
porous rocks near Frederick sink In and
move southward at the rate of about
one mile a year. The water issuing
from the wells at Colonial Beach today
fell as rain on the uplands and mountains
of Maryland around about the
time that Washington was president
of the young American republic.?Scientific
American.
Women Warriors.?Women are taking
an active part in the fighting in
Albania, according to dispatches received
in Vienna from Aviona, the A!
bank n capital.
Many Albanian Amazons armed with
hatchets, fought horoically shoulder
to shoulder with their husbands, sons
and brothers during the street fighting
at Dibra, when 1,200 Servians were
killed and 300 taken prisoners. The
town fell into the hands of the Albanians
and the prisoners were sent under
escort to Tiranla.
The fighting in the vicinity of Dibra
both before and after its fall was of
the most desperate character.
The women of the Greek race in
southern Albania are also displaying a
very warlike spirit. At Koritza, which
is held by the Greeks, sixty girls have
formed themselves into a company
which is drilled by Greek non-commissioned
officers. The women declare
they would sooner die fighting than
permit Koritza to be incorporated In
the state of Albania.
A man never knows what he can
do until he tries?then he may be
sorry he found out.
piscftlanrous grading.
COMING OF THE "REVENUER8"
A Typical "Blockader," Talks of Georgia
Moonshining and Its Elimination.
The day of the illicit distiller is
passing. Where once thrived this
hazardous yet profitable business there
is now scarce a trace.
The north section of Georgia, bordering
the Carolina line, has in the
nast hean a most nrnllfle nroduear of
"corn llcker." Today, following the
systematic work of the Federal revenue
officers, an illicit still is all but a
curiosity. The process of eliminating
the "blockader" in his Georgia lair has
been slow, but sure. The records of
the United States court for this district
show fewer and fewer cases each
year brought against the mountain
men who, in former years, believed they
had all but Divine right to make their
corn into whisky the same as the valley
man made his corn into meal.
The philosophy of the mountain distiller
touching upon his vested rights
in the manufacture of his corn into
drinkable* or eatables Is not hard to
digest. In fact, it has sometimes been
recognized aa logic In the Georgia
courta.
One prominent revenue officer, who
has been In the Internal secret service
in this state for years, Is authority for
the declaration that half the cases
made against "moonshiners"?so called?were
made necessary by Federal
law, not by the law of common sense.
This authority declares that in days
past many a man has been sent to
prison for an act which, in his heart he
could not brand as . wrong when the
act was that of distilling his own
whisky.
Take, for example, the life history of
John Ingram, typical mountaineer,
typical "blockader," typical American,
if you please.
This simple godly soul, filled with
the lure of life as handed down through
generation after generation of fighting
men who hall from the time when King
Arthur's knights rode bold, paints the
passing of the moonshiner in the dark
tones of one putting on life's canvass
the picture of a dead but glorious history
of his race.
Without the slurring tones of his
high-pitched voice, without the peculiar
brasing of his sentences?given to
him from his mother, who, in turn,
learned the queer words of her mother?old
John Ingram's epigrammatic
farewell to the "blockader" is told here
as best it can be translated:
"My folks were all blockaders ever
since I can remember. My paw had
two brathers. Both dead now, but they
were in a stur witn paw ior so many
years that time don't take no reckoning
of It, I guess.
"Paw and my two uncles held out
Thaf they" was "In legal trade. They t
never were bothered by revenuers nor
no one come prying Into their affairs
at all. They went right on year In and
year out attending to their 'still,' running
off good enough whisky regularly,
and selling It to valley men who
came through In wagons, and took the
stuff off to the railroad.
"Summers, paw and my two uncles
made a little crop of corn?Just enough
to keep the 'still' In meal. The mill
down at the road folks, just below
Blalrsvllle, where I came from, ground
meal for all of our neighbors, and the
old miller knew what the meal was
TA ? _ 1 A 1 A. ...
lur. 11 wan Kenerdi Knuwicugo tiiui wc
mountain folks made our living: out of
blockading.
"When I was a right peart spit of a
lad, I first saw the revenuers at work,
as I can remember. One night I was
just going from our cabin to the well
to draw some water. I remember maw
told me to bring it in the big, old
wooden bucket we had, instead of the
smaller one she used to keep the spring
water in. The moon was high that
night, and as I got near the well,
which was about fifty yards from the
house, on a bee-line, I saw two fellows
standing near the worm fence which
surrounded our place.
"I hollered, which is mountain fashion
of welcoming foiks at night, but
they didn't answer. Instead, both of
them took to their heels and made off.
Now, that ain't the way folks act in
the hills, and I went back into the
house and told maw.
"Paw got back from the settlement
about noondown, and I told him what
I had seen. He couldn't make head or
tail of it. Long about 4 o'clock in the
morning?first candle-light time?1
was awakened by a knock on the door
of our cabin, and there stood two men,
with short derringer pistols in their
hands.
"One of them yanked me outside,
and asked me if my paw was at home.
Before I could answer, there was paw.
He asked the men who and what they
were, and they displayed badges of
some sort, and said they were Federal
officers. They told paw he was under
arrest for making and selling contraband
whisky against the statute provided
by the Federal laws of the United
States.
"Paw said he guessed it was all
o-Vi f nn/^ ihon ti?on f V? Q r?lr !*> /% tVlP
cabin, saying he wanted to get his
coat before he started down the mountain
with them. Mind you that was
the first time in probably 15 years that
any one had ever molested my paw
and my uncles, much less sought their
arrest.
"Well, paw took a long time in putting
on his coat. In fact, when the
revenuers got tired of waiting, they
went inside the cabin to hustle paw up
but paw was gone. The back door
showed the way he had gone and how.
"Them revenuers was pretty sore in
spots for a while, and wanted to hold
me as a witness, but maw she begged
off for me. but I was told to be ready
to go down the mountain at any time
as a witness?If paw was caught.
"I remember that next fortnight
well. Paw had to 'hide out'?as we
call it in the mountains. We carried
him supplies along the little-used
trails, and kept him In touch with
things until the revenuers left the hills.
Then paw and my uncles, both knowing
they were sort of marked men,
kept right on with the still work, but
they never again tried to do much
more than make enough for their own
and their neighbors' use.
"I started moonshlning when I was
about 16 years old, helping paw and
i Uncle Ben and Uncle Hill. They used
to make me *watch pot,' as they call It,
and keep the worm-water cool. I'd
have to carry water from the spring
and pour it over the colls of the copper
worm about every IB minutes. It
was hot and tiresome work, but I learned
the craft well and got my schooling
from practical sources.
'1 blockaded for years. Last winter
I gave it up for good and all when the
revenuers got me. I used to make $15
a day at it, while I was working. But
having to hide out that way made the
work just sort of 'oft and on,' so that
my earnings were kind of like a gambler's.
"When I worked I made good
money, but my sort of work was
scarce.
"You can believe it or not, but I have
made more money at 75 oents a day
this last summer than I made in two
whole yeato before trying to beat out
the Federal officers.
"My trial Is coming up here on October
15. rm going to plead guilty to
making, as I have quit it for good and
all. I've got a little crop in up there
at Bialrsville, which is 26 miles from a
railroad, and I'm going to harvest that
crop and next winter keep my children
in school, like they ought to be.
"8umming it up?by and large?
they ain't no use in blockading these
days. I can't yet see why It ain't Just
as right for a man to make his cornmeal
Into whisky as it Is for him to
have It baked into pones, but that ain't
here or there. What is most surprising
ia to see mountain folks, raised,
generation after generation, to the
trade of blockading, giving up to the
law as laid down by the revenuers.
"I guess it's beet that way, especially
since these later days, when the
state and the government is commencing
to know we are alive. For so long
they forgot to provide us with schools,
decent roads and the common things
of life that we didn't figure we owed
Uncle Samuel much. However, things
are looking up In the mountains, and
the best sign of that Is the passing of
old blockaders, Just like me."?Atlanta
Constitution.
LEARNING A ROAD'S VALUE
Ths Nation Is Awakening to tho Benefit
of Improved Highways.
* One of the strongest things in the
history In the development of this
country Is that the people as a nation
waited until the last few years
to realize what good roads mean to
civilization. They waited until after
the gteat era of railroad building was
long since over and the United States
had become a world leader industrially.
It seems that the economic value
of the first class highways ought to
have been just as apparent seventyfive
years ago a3 it Is now, but nearly
everything else in the way of providing
general means of transportation
was done before we began to consider
th^ road problem in its true significance.
Despite the obvious fact that
the American people grapple with
only a few vital problems at a time,
the long delay of the good . .ads
movement can hardly be explained.
But the people are not destined to
travel in the mud and ruts forever.
The belated good roads movement
has started in earnest, and there is
every reason te believe that it will be
carried on successfully until no European
nation can boast of as good
thoroughfares as ours. It Is a plonneer
movement, and it is a well known
fact that as pioneers, Americans have
no superiors.
The campaign of agitation, which
began to attract general attention two
arn hen made mar
velous headway. Public opinion has
been affected in particularly every
county in the United States. More
speeches have been made and more
printer's ink consumed in the discussion
of the road problem in the last
two years than in any previous
twenty-five years. Scores of organizations,
local and national, have been
started for the purpose of stimulating
public sentiment and urging
enabling legislation. Hundreds of
commercial associations in towns and
cities have taken up the problem,
and thousands of public spirited men
have contributed liberally of their
money for the furtherance of the
cause. Distinguished civil engineers
are devoting their time and labor to
the solution of construction problems,
and many eminent statesmen are
studying the situation with a view
to helping frame and put through the
necessary legislation, coruugu, township
and county fiscal authorities are
replacing incompetent supervisors
with skilled road engineers. And,
what means more than can be easily
imagined, a very large number of
rural taxpayers are beginning to realize
that good roads, of all public
conveniences, are a vital necessity.?
Collier's Weekly.
Highest Dam in the World.?The
Arrowrock dam, now under construction
on the Boise river about twenty
miles above the city of Boise, Idaho,
will be, when completed, the very highest
of all the dams. From the lowest
point of the foundation to the roadway
on the crest, the height will be 351
feet. It will be heavy enough to resist
the enormous head of water back of it,
but additional provisions besides that
of weight are being made. Thus the
dam will disclose a curved outline in
plan. The curvature will, it is expected,
tend in the reduction of the stresses
due to fluctuations of temperature. On
the crest the curved length will be
1,060 feet. The foundation is through
* k- -0 rtKoronfop o t irk nermlf
LU UC U1 O uv.il viiatavwi ? ?
the ellmlntary precautions. It is proposed
as a further safeguard against
such pressure, to put down deep into
the foundation, a line of holes just
within the line of the upstream face.
These holes are to go down thirty or
forty feet, and are to be subjected to
the application of Portland cement
grout under pressure. It Is possible
that no grout can be introduced because
of the compactness of the rock.
"A line of open holes will be driven to
catch any seepage that might possibly
get past the pressure grouting and
these seep holes will be led up into a
large inspection tunnel that will run
the entire length of the dam Just above
the normal high water surface of the
back water."
The dam will be constructed of rubble
cement. The total amount of masonry
for this dam will amount to
about 500,000 cubic yards.?Cassier's
Monthly.
DISCOVERER OF SANTA FE TRAIL i
ii I
Remarkable Journey Made by Fronoh <
8oldior of Fortune in 8orvico of Spain. ^
oomewnere on m? route ut tue re- |
Juvenated Santa Fe Trail a statue or (
a tablet should be erected to the mem- ,
ory of a Frenchman, Pedro Vial, the
first white man known to have made
the Journey from Santa Fe to St.
Louis. His name and the record of his
achievement, lost to history for many
years, have been preserved by the
finding of a Spanish translation of his
journey In the archives of Seville,
Spain, several years ago.
Vial made the Journey In the service
of Spain. For several years he had
been a soldier of fortune and trader
among the Indians near the Spanish
settlements In New Mexico. In 1792
Fernando de la Concha, the governor,
decided to make an effort to open
trade relations with the 8panish settlements
on the Mississippi river. Vfal,
because of his knowledge of the Indians
and territory now oomprlslng the
Panhandle of Texas, was commissioned
to make the attempt. Two young
Spaniards from Pecos, Josef Vicente 0
Vlllanueva and Vicente Espinosa, ac- t
companled him, ?
In the early sprtng of 1792 Vial be- a
gan to make his arrangements. Knowl- n
edge of the country between Sante Fe h
and St, Louis was extremely meager. h
Th? r?rnrdn nf f!nrnnado and his offl
cers who journeyed in the same re- f
gion In 1B40, offered Utile that waa h
definite. Indian tales and reports
brought in by hardy adventurers gave j
Vial only a general knowledge of the c
conditions he would meet. r
Governor de la Concha estimated
that the journey should be made in a h
month. Vial was actually 129 days c
reaching his destination, but after- r
ward said he could have reach St. t
Louis in 25 days had not hostile Indi- g
ans and unforeseen mishaps delayed
him. t
According to orders from De la Con- j
cha and bearing letters to "the com- j,
mandant of the fort of San Luis, in the t
jurisdiction of Los Tlinneses," Vial t
left Santa Fe May 31, 1792. The first ,
day took him to Pecos, where his wo
companions joined him. From this t
point De la Concha's directions were T
only of a general nature. The main in- a
junction placed on Vial was that he d
reach St. Louis if within his power. c
His orders, which will show the great j
lack of information regarding the r
country, recta:
"From Pecos he shall direct his ^
march to the eastward to the villages t
of the Magages. From that point he a
shall proceed east-northeast, which is t
the place where the Missouri river runs p
In the district nearest Los Tllnneses. n
By means of the compass which he t]
carries and the explanations which I
have made to him thereof, it will be c
very easy not to make any mistake in
the above cited dlrectiona
"From Pecos to the villages of the ?
Magages it Is natural that he will r
meet no other tribes than those of our ,
allies, the Co. inanches on whose aid
and knowledge he can count with all
safety." u
May 22 the three explorers spent ar- f
ranging their packs. The next morning
.they began their march, strikino
east, and slightly toward the south, to g
reach the Pecos river. They camped
on the river the night of May 24. T1" ^
next day was lost fulfilling social obligations
which Vial describee in his
journal under the date of May 25. He ^
says: *
"We left in the morning1 about 7 ar' ^
marcher about one league constantly h
In the same easterly direction. We p
met seven Comanchea with their wives
among whom was a Spanish Interpreter
on his way from San Antonio de &
Bexar. They made us return to the t]
Pero (Vial uses .that spelling exclu- )(
slvely) river in Joy at having met mc, t
for it was a long time since* they had ^
seen me. Consequently we lost the
march of that day."
The next night they camped on what t|
is now called Galllnas Creek. Vial de- ^
cided to leave the banks of the Pecos ^
and go east-northeast conforming to
his instructions. He mentions that he j
wanted to "stop at a creek which flows c
into the Colorado (Canadian) river." ^
He probably was somewhere between g
the present villages or casuas ana uolonias
when he left the Pecos river.
Vial undoubtedly knew his territory
fairly well up to this point Now h* j
began to And unknown landmarks
some of which he had heard about
from the Indians. May 29 he found the t,
"Colorado river," as he calls it. For 0
seven days they traveled steadily to e
the east along the river. Vial mentions a
the fact that they have been walking f,
over level plains each day. June 6. Vial s,
became ill, which necessitated a halt C1
until June 18. As they had reached c,
the Canadian somewhere In the pres- a
ent Pablo Montoya grant, the camp ^
while Vial was ill probably was ir ^
western Texas.
After Vial's recovery they continued V(
down the river until June 22, when g,
they turned northeast to find that "Na n
peste river, which we call in French w
the Arkansas river." The first three n
days on his march three new rivers t{
were discovered, probably Beaver e.
Creek, the Cimarron river and the Salt
Fork of the Arkansas. The first was t(
named San Juan. Vial shrewdly notes
that it flows into the Colorado river. lr
Beaver Creek eventually becomes the tt
North Canadian near El Reno, Okla., u
and feeds the Canadian. The next rlv- e1
er, which Vial says was about three
leagues from the first, he mentions as (I
having quite a large flow of water. n
The Cimarron river Is easily the largest
of all in that section. It is only a tl
short distance from Beaver creek. The tf
last river Vial named San Guillene. He
eueases that it also flows into the Col
orado, but he probably was led astray ^
by the fact that the Sal Fork runs to b(
the southwest unil It reaches north
central Oklahoma. bl
The Napeste river was found June ^
27. Vial had been traveling- north and
north-east since he had left the Canadlan,
leaving that stream about where g(
the village of Tascosa now stands. He
first saw the Arkansas river not far ?
ei
from where Dodge City Is now. June
28 the three men gave their horses a
chance to rest. The next day occurred
the real adventure of the trip.
Vial was in territory absolutely n
strange to him. He had heard that a k
party of Guachache Indians were hunting
somewhere along the Arkansas
river, and knowing them to be friendly
to "the Province of Louisiana," he n
says, he started out at daybreak to
follow the river, and. If possible, locate
the Indians.
About 4 o'clock that' afternoon a
Darty of Indians was discovered In a
luntlng camp across the river. Vial
Ired guns to attract their attention,
rhe Indians Immediately crossed the
-iver and surrounded the three men.
dial's Journal tells the other events of
hat day in truly graphic style. He
tays:
"Those who first met us grasped us
cordially by the hand. I asked them of
vbat tribe they were and they told me
hat .they were Cances. They Imme*
liately took possession of our horses
ind of all our possessions and cut the
ilothes which we wore with knives,
hus leaving us totally naked. They
rere of a mind to kill us, whereupon
ome of them cried not to kill us with
runs or arrows, because of the great
lsk that would be run of killing one
nother, as they had surrounded us;
>ut that if they killed us it should be
y hatchet blows or spears.
"One highly esteemed among them
ook up our defense, begging all of
hem to leave us alive. Thereupon anther
highly respected one came and.
aklng me by the hand, made me
nount his own horse with him. Then
nother came up and hurled a spear at
ne, but the one who bad me on his
iorse restrained him by laying-hold of
iim, leaving me alone on the horse. A
rowd of them even coming to kill me
rom behind, his brother mounted betlnd
me. Then one of them who had
een a servant in the village of ?an
Ails de Tlinneses and who talked exellent
French, came up to me and
ecognized me.
"He began to cry out: 'Do not kill
ilm. We will ascertain whence he is
omlng, for I know him.' Taking the
pinn nf mv horse, he took me to his
ent and said to me: 'Friend, now your
race must hurry if you wish to save
our life, for among us is the custom
hat, after having eaten, no one is
;illed.' After having eaten hastily as
le charged me, they left me quiet and
he chiefs having assemb!ed after a
noment came to me and asked me
rhence I was coming."
Villanueva was not so lucky. His
lorse was killed and he was stabbed
vLth a dagger. Only prompt action by
, friendly Indian prevented him from
lying. This Indian interceded and reeived
part of the blow on his arm.
Sspinosa was uninjured. All three
nen, naked, were placed in a tepee the
lext day and held as prisoners. Until
Lugust 15, the Indians remained in
hat camp, with the three white men
s captives. Vial had excellent opporunlty
to make a careful study of the
[ansas Indians, but, unfortunately, he
nade no notation in his journal durng
that period.
August 16, the Indians left their
amp and traveled northeast They
eached their home village* on the Kaw
- * * ..?4 ?C VU1 KAKaua*
iver huuui aub?j. a?*, tmh wv-vtv..
'hat was his first sight of the Kflw
iver. He made inquiries and was told
hat the "Kances flows into the Misoury."
All this time Vial and bis compan>ns
had no clothing. September 11, a
Yench trader with a flatboat full of
oods arrived at the village, and the '
aptlves welcomed him Joyously. He
ave the three men garments and
ther articles which Vial notes as fol>ws:
He gave us also one libra of vermII- 1
ion, worth five pesos of silver, four
esos worth of tobacco, four sheets
rlth one aune of cloth, which was to
e settled for by the commandant on
is return, as well as two llbras of '
owder and four balls and a gun 1
forth 10 pesos.
A few days later, September 16, Vial
nd his companions left the village of
he Kansas Indians "in a pirogue be- 1
inglng to three traders who were reurning
to the village of San Luis de
'linneses." Vial makes no mention 1
bout when those traders arrived or 1
rho they were. They drifted down
tie Kaw to .the Missouri, and October
reached St Louis. Zenon Trudeau,
tie commandant there, received them
nd listened to their story with eager
nterest Vial told him that the trip
ould be made in 25 days' favorable
ravel. The three men remained In
it Louis all winter. They passed the
resent site of Kansas City some time
i September, but Vial makes no menlon
of the date they left the Kaw for J
tie Missouri.?Kansas City Star.
On Trts Trunk at 8ea.?A stirring 1
lie of the sea was told by the officers
f the Peninsular and Oriental steamr
Banca on the arrival of that vessel 1
? nnmhov in?t month, after a voyage
rom Japan. They had on board a
ararthy Dutch Malay, who waa res- i
ued under extraordinary circumstan- i
es. The Banca left Moji, Japan, with
cargo of coal, bound for Bombay. 1
luring the passage of the Straits of
ialacca an object was described 1
oating in the sea. The course of the
essel was altered and as the Banca 1
learned nearer the object, a man was
lade out seated on a tree trunk, and
aving his trousers as a distress slg- 1
al. The castaway was picked up and 1
iken aboard in a state of extreme '
chaustion. '
When he had recovered the" man '
>ld an amazing story. He declared
lat he and four companions set out 1
i a small boat, when they were over- 1
iken by a gale. Their frail craft was *
nable to withstand the storm and '
fentually capsized. They were 1
irown into the water, but finding a 1
ee trunk rode out the gale. They 1
;mained in this awful predicament (
>r days, according to the Malay, tor- 1
* * 41 ? ~ ~S U.???arAii n nH 1
area oy ine pangs ui nungci <..i?
llrst, and In danger from sharks,
here was no possibility of reaching
ind, even had they known In which
Irectlon It lay. Their only hope was
elng rescued by passing steamers,
everal vessels did, in fact, pass them,
ut no notice was taken of their franc
signals and cries of help. The un>rtunates
were washed away one by
ne until only the Malay remained.
Ightlng the Banca he renewed his
Torts to attract notice, and was
rentually successful?London Teleraph.
or "In his life they called Miserly a
lean, harsh man, but now everybody
nows he was a philanthropist."
"Did he leave his money to a hosplil?"
"No. He drew his own will, and now
very lawyer In town has a new autoloblle."?Philadelphia
Ledger.
SOUTH CAROLINA QINNER8
Figures of This Year's Work Up ts
October 18.
Following; Is the census department's
report of cotton finned In South Carolina
up to October 18:
County lflt 1918
Abbeville 11,888 " 11,878
Aiken 86.618 ' 18,11*
Anderson.... ..... 80.766 80,788
Bamberg 18,064 10,688
Barnwell 81.88* 88.878
Beaufort 8,188 1,864
Berkeley 6,888 4,684
Calhoun 11,418 8.778
Charleston 4,366 1,811
Cherokee 6,754 4,587
Cheater 14,271 ^ 12,428
Chesterfield 16,784 14,250
Clarendon 20,486 16.865
Colleton 2,442 6,508
Darlington 14,887 12.764
Dillon 16,028 20,278
Dorchester 8,688 6,688
Edgefield 16.624 12.222
Fairfield 11.204 11,671
Florence 20.228 18,721
Georgetown 1,288 1,408
Greenyllle 15,227 10.161
Greenwood 12,748 12,426
Hampton 11,456 8.040
Horry 2,666 8,186
Jasper 8.226 2.274
Kershaw 12,214 12,601
Lancaster 8,627 10,112
Laurens 18.086 14.860
Lee 17.880 17,876
Lexington 12.188 10,577
Marion 8.006 8,881
Marlboro 21.646 28.067
Newberry 16,516 16,618
Oconee 7,844 8,074
Orangeburg 41.265 28.282
Pickens 6,874 2,601
Richland 11.206 11,711
Saluda 11.777 10,708
Spartanburg 26.861 21.722
Sumter 20,121 18,442
Union 7,840 4,101
Williamsburg 10,608 11.042
Tork 16,417 16.164
jouu oiy.yzu tHu.iis
WHAT NOBODY KNOWS
Just a Few of tha Many MyatariM af
Natura That ara Still Unaolvad.
The moat striking thing about a really
learned man la not the extant of hia
knowledge, bat the extent of his admitted
Ignorance. The wiser a person
la the greater the number of things be
doesn't know.
The more universally cocksure and
well informed one seems the more
likely It Is that he is a humbug.
How little has science made Inroad
upon that stupendous and limitless
nescience that surrounds It aa tha stellar
universe enfolds the tiny earth!
8ir Oliver Lodge the other day, at
the meeting of the British association,
spoke of the mystery of sex determination.
Spite of all claims, we know
little more today than did the cava
men why one child Is born a boy and
another a girl, and why the world ratio
keeps about the same.
Sir Oliver also expressed his wonder
that some plants bore both male and
female flowers. He said the same sap
comes into the stem, but just at that
Junction where differently sexed Sowers
branched away from each other
luorc iuubi uo buiuc yruiuuuu uiwifv
in the sap.
"1 don't know whet it Is, and microscopes
tell me nothing about it," he
continued. "Perhaps if physloliglsta
could And out just what uappena in
that little plant joint they would get
tome clew to the reason why some human
beings are born boys and others
girla"
He might have pushed further his
point of wonder. How comes it that
the earth juices make here a white
flower and there a red? How is a huge
oak all folded in a little acorn?
How can nature make the peach,
full of juice and cased so closely In the
thinnest of fussy skin that nev?;,]eaka?
How does blood food here create'-**^
bard finger nail, there a hair and there
a atony tooth?
What is electricity? We know some
what of how it acts. But what is it?
We Know little more of it than does a
lavage.
What is life? What is the secret
force that transforms in a trice a living
dog that eats his environment into
a dead dog whose environment eats
him?
What is love? Why does this woman
thrill you and that one leave you
cold or repel you?
What is conscience, that world's policeman
that urges us on to what we
think right and affrights us at what
we think wrong?
What la truth? What is personality?
What is being?
And these questions are not remote,
academic questions, not such things as
On-liviT mIImI "lunar nolltln." but
they touch the very nearest and deareat
regions of every man's life.
We are but dust motes in the sunbeam
of the Infinite. We cling like
oysters to our little point in the bed of
the vast ocean of mystery.
All about us is nature, her mind a
galaxy of secrets, her thoughts far and
strange as the procession of the suns.
Nothing befits us, her children, so
much as reverence for her purposes,
humility before her great brain, trust
and love in her vast heart.
No one Is so consummate an ass as
the one who thinks he knows It all.?
Royalty's Dinner Service.?A million
and a half pounds for the contents
of two pantries, each no larger
:han an ordinary suburban drawing
room! Such is the amaxlng value on
King George's gold plate treasury at
Windsor Castle. For the purpose of
l state banquet at Buckingham Palice,
four tons of this gold plate are
transported to London in vans bearng
the royal arms, and tons more are
eft behind. In these treasure vans
ire epigrams of gold which weigh
ieveral hundred-weight. There are
llshes, two or three of which are as
nuch as any man would care to car*y.
and half a dosen of the dinner
plates even are a sufficient load for
>ne man. As for the candelabra, you
vlll see three strong-armed porters
(training their muscles to deposit one
>f them in the van.
There Is one dinner service alone,
lesigned by such artists as Flaxman
ind Stothard, and fashioned for the
Fourth George by Rundell and Bridges,
for the mere making of which
hnndrad ihnimanil Dflundl
vas paid some ninety years ago. The
fold of which It was fashioned?generations
of derelict court plate melted
down?was valued at half & million
pounds. There Is a complete
lervice for one hundred and forty
linners?centre placques to represent
water, eptrgnes, candelabra, turnees,
entre dishes, plates by the hundred,
ill of pure gold, with thirty dosen
other gold plates to fall back on la
:ase of need.?Prom Tit-Bits.