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THK PIOPLX. BAJUrWXLL, 8. 0. SiHiiinnimiiiituiiiimiiniHiiiiiiiiiinie I?’ ■n WOLVES of the timiMMIIIIIIHMMIIIIIIimiMIII 6 , . RANDALL PARRISH o •> aiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiumuiiiimiimiiiimiiiiiiin Copyright by A. C. MeClorg * Co. CHAPTER XXV—Continued. —17— She turned her head, and I felt her «yes searching the dim outline of my face questloningly. “Of course I did everything I knew,** she replied. “Why should I not? You are here, Captain Carlyle, for ray sake; l owe you service." “And must I be content merely with that thought?” I urged, far from pleased. “This would mean that your only interest in me arises from grati tude." “And friendship,” her voice as confi dential as my own. “There Is no rea son why you should doubt that surely." “It would be easier for me to under stand, but for the memory of what I am—s bond slave." “Your meaning Is that true friend ship has as a basis equality?" “Does It not? Css real friendship esist otherwise?" “No." abe acknowledged gravely. “And the fnrf that such friendship does et 1st between as evidences my faith la yoa. I have never felt this aortal dtatlnriloa. Captala Osrty le. have gives It an thought. This may seem airs ago ta yea. yet la abase aat aval Yoa boar an h» aumbte name, and heteau to a family of geutloums Ymb bob^anmftiaa of rwaNasad. •< port of a urns la a re latoiioa. if a# soy reuse ft oso a ^■aittraf auo. la aa ony eutlptag your hsuor I haeo oeeey vsuooo to hrtte»e yoa oeee toiee ly arvasod ami roaeamod t**sooeeea*at t y that cnees teabon dsoo aai eatea ho toenu m« you sen meS eny onew a sore nog hot am f^seod yon amheemamd mo aomf* *Aad feu aua*i arveeQty haoe am apsna otsa yoa so ai yemr aaa canon— a fbaa mam uoffhp la rkmm paar hpummmap hi aho v* “Yea * feaoaty hae Pans apmilod *ta % p eSaaoM a he omeoahm? ho maa eoaM haeo dame maoa aa pooead ham aahf mma ammeh ami tews he are la dhhh>* fot baa smrh poifl la aaftiag ramgareu otsa oboe I Ian eorum*d I Uo* mat pour sam sod eoearaga om hrbag an eahety as lead I am ad baap so afraid hee f aaoa Uaeaod hr iraaa pern You ponaeos sny aamto mad dbanar* enoomns^^^ta-— pern uadaiaiami NdyY* I •onboostf “ga I hose mean fro foa onaM haeo heoa dbam Pae ahr oahee ananas aader dm eaam eamdr amno ed dnagee no* a sombre an am esheer mould haeo hnoa a daty, nsri am moon hat In he ofth you abhaa sad ptotecuau. hnn heoa a demgb . a hd I hare armed Iboothp Inirfnn for hee men eobe— noe as I onabi nay oahee" lad yoa ao| sampoeo I harm?"' floe gtnnev hnrh*«t into snlae fhroagh the star gten en o ttb • aspddea meoengv of teenatasoat. “Tea haeo —lhal—thed It woe poa gaaoemaity I aeeeed?" ^nerormS^M^Pn^^Srfr ,l ^fcjj^7Yonr* If ever. I mam tell yoa the truth. I know yoa care for am. and have cured since firm we met. Aa Intoront no Iron fateful has led me to neuk your ac- quaiat •nee. and give you my aid. Sore ly It In not unmaidenly for me to con fess this when we face the chance of death together?" “But." 1 stammered, M I can scarcely believe you realize your words. I—I love you Dorothy." “And Is it not also possible for me to love?” “You—you mean, you love me?” “I love you—are you sorry?” “Sorry! I am mad with the Joy of It; yet stricken dumb. Dorothy Fair fax, I have never even dared dream of such a message from your lips. Dear, dear girl, do you forget who I am? What my future?” “I forget nothing,” she said, proud ly. “It is because I know what you are that my heart responds. Nor is your future so clouded. You are to day a free man'* if we escape these perils, for whether Roger^Fairfax be alive, or d$ad, he will never seek you again to hold in servitude. If alive he will Join his efforts with mine to ob tain a pardon because of these serv ices, and we have influence in Eng land. Yet, should such effort fail, you are a sailor, and the seas of the world are free. It is not necessary that your .vessel fly the English flag” “You give me hope—a wonderful hope.” “And \ courage,” her hands firmly clasping mine. “Courage fo fight on In faith. I would have that my gift to you, Oeoflfry. We are in peril still, great peril, but you will face It healde me, knowing that whether we.live or die we Ire together. I am not afraid any more." f through the pallid light of the dawn. It was all a desolate, restless waste in the midst of which we tossed, white above hung masses of dark clouds ob scuring the sky. We were but a hur tling speck between the gray above and the gru.v below. _ ’ The first thing needing my attention wn.s the food nml water. I crept for- J: Sa ward cautiously juid soon had Sain busily engaged in passing out the Parl ous articles for Inspection, pnly es sentials ha4 been chosen, yet the sup ply seemed ample for the distance I believed we w r ould have to cover be fore attaining land. But the nature of that unknown coast w r as so doubtful I determined to deal out the provisions sparingly, saving every crumb pos sible. The men grumbled at the small ness of the ration, yet munched away contentedly enough, once convinced that we all shared alike. “All right, lads,” I said cheerfully. “Now we understand each other and can get at work. We’ll divide into watches first of all—two men aft here and one at the bow. Watkins and I will take It watch and watch, but there is enough right now for all hands to turn to and make the craft ship shape. Two of yop bail out that water till she’s dry, and the others get out that extra sail forward and rig up a Jib. She'll ride easier and make better progress with more canvas showing.” The men gradually knocked off work and lay down, and finally I yielded to Dorothy’s pleadings and fell Into a sound sleep. It seemed as though I scarcely lost consciousness, yet 1 must have slept for an hour or more, my head pillowed on her lap. When I awoke Schmitt was again at the steer ing paddle, and both he and Dorothy were staring across me out over the port quarter. "What Is It?" I asked eagerly, but before the words were entirely uttered a boa me voice forward bawled out ex citedly : *Tbefe you nee It; •freight oat agin that Hoad edge. It's a fall-rigged arlkanwer " “Ay boMsed another. "• ■. beadle straight rr»—a ear onarae astern I reached my feet, diagtag ta the asaet la beep erect and. an the boat • nL haloed clearly preaalhly dirty, yat otherwise ah Ip shape enough. Nothing human greet ed me, and conadous of X strange feel- ins' of horror, I "lipped over onto the deck. The next moment the negro and Dutchman Joined me. the former star ing about wildly, the whites of .dlls eyes revealing hi" terror. “•My Gawd, snh,” he ejaculated. “Ah done know dis ( boat—It's shore de Santa Marie. ' Ah’s cooked In dut gal ley. She w’as a slaver, sab.” He sniffed the air. .“A kin smell dem nig gers right now, yah. Ah suah reckon dars a bunch o’ ded ones uudeTr dem hatches right dis minute.” Schmitt’s hand fell heavily on my sleeve and I glanced into his stolid face. f “I Just bet I know vat wus der trou ble.” “What, man?” “Cholera,” he whispered; **ve haf boarded a death ship.” CHAPTER XXVII. " * On Board the Slaver. The terror of the two men aa this thought dawned upon them in all its horror was apparent enough. Nothing, not even fire, was more to be dreaded than a visitation of this aw*ful nature on shipboard. Charnel ship though this might be. It was safer by far than the cockleshell towing alongside. “Let’s find out the truth first, men,” I said quietly. “Hold your tongues. There is no use giving up until we know what, the danger is. Will you come with me?” The terror in Sam's eyes caused me to laugh and my own courage came back with a rush. “Afraid of dead men. are you? Then we'll face them together, my lada, and have It over with. Come on. now. both of you. Buckle up; there It nothing to fear, if you do what I tell you— this laa‘t the firat cholera nhlp I've heea aboard. It waa bo plea Mat yob rnofroatlag an. although we bad lean dead n*et> to handle than I aat lei pa ted. Indeed, we foaad oaty Jive bodien oa hoard There were ualy twn **n deek. a gtaat. coal- Mark negro and a gray-bearded white maa. bln face pitted with maaltpos : use is — w .. -— 7 - OLD ACTIVITIES RESUMED WITH . RETURN OF PRESIDENT FROM FRANCE. WILL RESUME SOCIAL . LIFE m hr pnpar I to-ng right ladn *" I ear “ft • a nrihMnmw beaded la etna a bandred fatbama |Nai mar helm •rkatfit -bard dew a maa. New. Saak wg a Mb that fad ndtfl} fie II ad the bndf band aad Inf Sy They ran t hetp neafag aa if taeen in nay anted aa deed.* a • aaaaf nhaai m a aide rtrva* headed Mra-ght arama the hewn nd Ida «a eaamag •naaaX Ad eyaa enarnd eat aarndfadf Sam • ndffl dnapang aheen ^ i> leVaM«K«1 ««» ubnt ••• 1“ t» fhae. I T netted aa ttme atlh either body The f I taa aailarn bang bard terranand at : the mere tbeagdf of tnardflag thene •vthaa ed pingae f eleefed mi mff la the pa aad haadtod them afteae. drag j flag tde hedma arenea the deed aad * i laaandmg idem eaar tde ftaa rail late tde nea I etdeend bedenMt la cat tde j in «a., eg* aad tnhe *hae^n ed (da adanf "dee been dam. aad yea fha ' ■ednatn | am la bma a ttb that gmt Id tde heat In* faa naggwne I For Five Years Executive Mansion Has Been Closed to All Forms of Entertainment, but \^th Ending of War It Again Comes to Life. By EDWARD B. CLARK. Washington.—Once more the doors of the White House swing outward and Inward. There are lights in the win dows by night; aiotors approach and depart by day, and what w’tis lifeless Is life. The old days of the White House probably have returned to stay. Even while the president is on his travels members of the family and of the household will remain to keep open the old mansion and to show that the spirit of hospitality once more has lodgment under the roof. Never before In the history of the country has the White House been remove) for so long a time from the wxial activities and. latterly, from the business activities of the city and the nation. Washington believes that from now on through the rear* the fine old house within the finer old ground" will take Its place aa the cen ter of the capltal’a social life as It Is I certain to be the center of the nation's directing energies. During the four years of war. or. more properly "peaking, five years, he- caune the armistice did not nece—rlly menn pence, the White House re- | molned virtually rienod agalant all . term* of raferfataanent. Yog three f years, oe nlmont three yearn, tee I*nit ed gtnfen wan Bet tavutved ditwlly la fbe agr. bat the bnrrwr of tbe battle behte la Koewge mode ttneff teff aat •gif la tee WbMe Nome but la all tbe bogeoo eg Inrsev mtewntning ia tbe etty of Wn"btogt"*i Tbe preoldnafl aad N«u WaMa apt*realty ted ate teo< that H wan tbe taae tee ewtevtofta / T® Fraahen Silks. Japanese, China, India and pongee silks are freshened by washing in warm soapsuds, rinsing quickly and drying In the shade; roll In a sheet when not perfectly dry and then Iron on the wrong side. Colored silk fades and white silk yellows after washing, but this may e avoided by using medium warm soap and water and rinsing well; wrap In a large cloth (an old sheet Is fine) for half an hour, and then Iron on the wrong side with a moderate Iron, using a bit of thin lawn between the iron and silk. Do not let the light and air get to It while wet, as this yellows and fades the fabric. When black allk or satin begins to ahlne, sponge on the right side with a mixture of two parts of gin and one of water, and Iron while damp on the wrong side. Te Remove Qream Stains From Silk. When any greasy substance baa been dropped upon silk It can be ab stracted by mixing French chalk with methylated spirits to the consistency of cranm. laying It upon tee stain, then covering with a brown pbper and peeoslng with a warm Iron. French chalk removnn grense aad duaa ate Injured colored silk a. Hcrspe a little oa tbe spot, rub It la. lot It stand 94 boars, tboa brash «dl aad ne- grew la tekmTbard te Tb both above and below the stain, that place a warm Iron over the paper. Thi beat will dissolve the grease which ttu *, blotting paper win absorb. Remove the paper, add a fresh sup ply under the stain and rub with chi® reform. Grtasa Spot on a Parasol. You may get lid of the grease spot by laying on hot French chalk. This will dissolve and absorb the grease. Next, the parasol should be opened and then thoroughly washed with gaso line and white soap all over tta sur face, more particularly on the soil Hi places. Afterward sponge off with clear gaa- oline. By going over every part of the parasol there will be no danger of spots or streaks and gasoline wttt not harm It Keep away from firs or nr- tifidal light during this the l*a to al la Both Suita and D Owing to the proportions of prcncot demand for women's the coming fall season prom Is nee suits and dresses bought la amounts. Ualy a short time ago the history of the drees trade It always a qaeetWia of a choice tbe two styles of ganaeata. with i ly a flam whoa both < goad. Maaufaeiureea of tbe preneat demand tee quality ■poasiMe la a mensarn ter tea I test extern fee bate salts aad d aad as long aa bate ms in tala 1 waadardi tWy stand tea ! of srcspiaarsL This teste ttsnn ban bnea fl mam devstenmteM te - a ewes h one k se esane on thfis 0n*k if 1 m bb i eensesef eBsOtee? Yen 4k i ns 1 my end yea sen pneteesty ^ • teOetett tmunte ol tite bUsmA e*4 ysmg Seen sumo wwh esn i •>» * * •SB he e deed essB ar v eheefd ensnee tease ssOmsi 1 apsete* Me 1 j etean el my hness as 1 teste 1 W-e tee dssW teedteg mse tee vessn Yhe el# mnsend f#seA •snmflk end 1 MM 4 tew ef fhe paces adds A | » ^ mBN«htee*«e ohma b*sB on nte a SNM l Basa sne tewe, tsy see- - Uflfl i a teven as tee tee# ef tea fbe iter te bt age am m l v 1 | - n L * * « 1 SMB® MM BSB" i CB«a Btty the rBptein t ‘ 1 ttee yew%Mi chert eed try te It te# three 1 *hs Iteg te esnmtee ngn • eny Mi my pnch- | log j#* r ed (he ntiffeBed HI i f 'f ..{h the opeB 1 thr port nn-i a—a m f beard II sfrfasb late There vmee tvewdsad irecatele. bote swarthy fellows, with king li Wt Swept By la a Larpt Circle. us. and both Watkins aad Schmitt ■training their muscles to hold the plunging quarter-boat against the force of the wind. A man forward on his knees growled out a curse. “What'a the matter aboard theref* he yelled. “Did yer ever see a boat yaw like that, afore? Damn me, If 1 believe they got a hand at the wheel.” The same thought had leaped into my mind. The schooner was headed to pass us on the port quarter, yet yawing so crazily at times as to make me fearful of being run down. I could perceive no sign of life aboard, no signal that we had been seen. The sight angered me. “Stand by, all hands,” I cried des perately. “Weil board whether they want us or not. Slip across, Miss Fair fax, out of the why. Now. Watkins, run us in under those fore-chains; easy man, don’t let her strike us. Lay hold qulc|;, lads, and hang on for your lives. Give me that end of rqpe— ready now, all of you; I’ll make the leap. &ow then—hold hard!” It was five feet, and up, my pur chase the tossing boat, but I made It, one hand desperately gripping a shroud, until I gained balance and was flung Inboard by a sharp plunge of the vessel. My bead was at a level with the rail, yet I saw nothing, my whole effort being to make fast before the grip of the men should be torn loose. This done, I glanced back Into the up turned facet below. “Hand In alowly, lada; yea. let go. the rope will bold, and the boat ride safely through. Let a couple of* men up'ttll we ate what's wrong with real ef you trail oa. Let Rebatett aad Bam come with ten." dim ■ MtllNfl hn- heir. 1 never lr the filth OVf-rpow eiing. and once naTlnfied that both men were beyond help, I wan content to lower tbe acuttle and leave them there. God! It was a relief to return oOfe more to the open deck and breathe In the fresh air. 1 balled the boat tow ing below. “Come aboard. Watkins." I called sharply. “Pass the lady up first, and turn the boat adrift." I caught Dorothy’s hands and aided her over- the rail. / “Why was the vessel abandoned?” she asked. “What has happened? Do you know*?” Quietly I told her the truth and as sured her that If we staid on deck and used our own bedding and provisions we were in no danger. “How can I help you-?” “Tell the men Just what I have told you,” I said gravely. “They will be ashamed to show’ less courage than you.” We turned and faced them together as they formed a little group against the rail. Hallin w’as first to speak. (TO BE CONTINUED.) Soul That Is Truly Great Emerson, that greatest of modern philosophers, has told us that It Is easy when in a crowd tb allow our selves to be swayed by the opinions about us and comparatively easy to keep our Individuality and sweetness when alone, but that the great aoul Is he who In the midst of fi maas of other Individuals can atlll keep the poise and sweetness of solitude. Work and Workers. There Is not no much difference In tbs world’s %ork as In the world** workers. U la not so much difference what we are doing—no king as It Is tewfBl—chat cobs is so tee way la m >F> delag it Tbe week ef ■ In Ate tee vtrtwnJ BarvtaB mi dwtee mi tbe White ttetenm AB • lateanMtee ibai nee te*ea Rptbm eawwstee smatean ppertarce are a aaenrBi e^finr ed enwnm teaend ten enpeMnwiwSfeeB ef Hems When Ftnarei. I gams sad Bwems end tasee betel, ween dgteteg Ueemaaf A marks. TbHmm sad Balances a bmamn Mrtantef tedmate bte as gins aa eatetkaiBmwsd •< ten WhM» Neann wfteemi tarfimWad la fbe Bel ed gneeos fsgeewnnSBfHwn ed ten naebteg saMums Th*# waedd basa arndn tee eatea#*aeemnte*. and en te wae teo* wtsb Mfy few eacvpchew nfi an- t*e*n'BWww*» wean ksbew tbe t affed Bfistee tw* IImp#* ib £bb r * et I bn White Ibeaar Iterate fbe CYvB vnr WhMe Neane enninwnrwie ween sm* gtvea eeev eat : cirie. The eir-'ir memacee ef fhe weee eemewltet digetetef ffesn ef tee pass Bee years Tbe fry • e* la tbe tbrwee ef e war b ategbt be relied «me ef brwfber ' *t br»-«ber bat there wae e feei- laneag tbe b>fb nteriele ef givers i et thnt time tbet It wae g^sd fer Called Ktntee te keep ap a eem > bleare ed tbiage aeraml. It wse tTWWWBrtehteepteaa—YdBaw»-iH#> i end B’llena eeeaM to beve ebotber. In KiigUnd et the oathreek of tbe i perm lit war tbe people ehowed a de- ! termlhatinn to keep to their ordinary j I pursuits In life ■■ much as was pnnal- j , Me. It sas the feeling of the men j and women of Knglnnd. no matter bow j much their hearts might be cast down, that It was better to buoy themselves up and the nation up by keeping things as nearly normal as possible. Matter of Viewpoint. In France It was different. The French people looked at the matter from a different standpoint than that from which the English w’ere viewing It* They shut all their theaters except those producing serious plays and those showing moving pictures of a kind to inspire patriotism. The French went Into mourning garb, while the English did not. Again it w’ould seem as if the entire question was one of a personal, or, if you will, national view point. During the president’s absence in Europe the White House offices were kept open, but only for the transactipn cf necessary business. The usual gatherings of senators and representa tives on business bent were no more In evidence. Now all Is changed, and changed for the better, for the atmosphere about the great house on Pennsylvania ave nue for the last five years has been de pressing. It was the center of al) things and suddenly It seemed to be, except for the presence of one man, the center of nothing. The daljy pil grimages of senators, representatlvet and cabinet officers have started again. It la believed that before long the great East room will witness once more the lighting of Its great chande Hera, and that the Marine band once inore will play In the great corridor • bile the preaideat and Mrs. Wltam more the etectai ■n<t > pne mai friends bidden ta tbe rnrrpiltet What the Children Wear Very simple frocks of fine cotton goods in gay -colors or of handkerchief linen, and all made by hand, are pro vided our little girls to w’ear when they are all dressed up. Cotton crepe, -batiste, lawn and organdie usually fur nish the material, and embroidered batiste or val lace or fancy needle work the trimming for these fine af fairs, and hand work puts the hall mark of elegance on them. And when the little hoy of three or more must be dressed up to match the splendor of his sister he Is likely to appear In knickers of pongee or other strong silk, with batiste blouse to match It in color. But of course his life Is spent in much more sturdy clothes made of strong cottons, like cotton poplin and pique, while these and ginghams or chambrays serve for th# dally wear of little girls. Between the two extremes of very dainty and sheer things, for special oc casions, and heavy cottons, come the durable printed voiles. They make very practical frocks that are more* dressy than ginghams. A good many of thene Imitate ginghams In plaids and croee-bara that are very pretty in this sheer material, and a greater num- j her have small flower design# scat- 1 teeed thickly over their surface; ofh-J ere are terloed. to that there le The little girl out la Arisons baa tha same chance as the little girl la New York to wear frocks that are up ta date. •The dress shown In the picture te of printed voile, machine made, with ot> gandie collar and cuffs aad facing oa the pocket. The sash 1s also of or gandie and there te a* little spray of embroidery on all these organdie ac cessories. Narrow organdie frills bor dering neck and sleeves and sashea prove as pretty a trimming feature aa the season has to offer. On summer dresses sleeves are short, either el bow or three-quarter length, and skirts tfsually about knee length. Designers of children’s clothes have not, Ignored georgette crepe and crepe de chine for the most pretentious sf dainty frocks. The georgette te often figured ^nd has the appearance of very fine lawn. Oay ribbons and scalloped edges on sleeves and skirt, bound wife the ribbon or silk to match It, finish op these airy creations. Many frocks are made with coatee snd Jacket la the small bodices, and bona. Including baby velvet must not be overlooked In them off. These and day peart buttons decide the dans ef a little frock.