Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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v 1 ABNER I DANIEL By ... WILL N. HAR.BEN Author of ••XVtJUrftU" Copyright, 1902, by HAR.PEK « BROS., Who Publiih the Work in Book Form. All Rights Reserved - • CHAPTER XVI. IS Heury, Aunt Maria’s bus- band, who was the chief farmhand, was busy patching fences the next morning. Bishop sent over for Pole Baker to hesitating way and yet with a note of firmness dominating her tone—“I don t see why we have to go through all this trickery to make the trade. Ef the land is good security fer the money, we needn’t be afeerd of what the man drive the spring wagon. Alan sat he- will find out. Ef it ain’t good seeur- Side Pole, and Abner and Bishop and Mrs. Bishop occupied the rear seats. Alan knew he could trust Pole, drunk or sober, and he confided his plans to the flattered fellow’s ears. Pole seem ed to weigh all the chances for and against success in his mind as he sat listening, a most grave and portentous expression on his massive face. “My opinion is the feller ’ll be thar as shore as preachin’,” he said. “But whether you git his wad or not—that’s another question. Miller’s ns sharp as a brier, an’, as he says, if Wilson gits to talkin’ about that land to any o’ these hill Billies they’ll bu'st the trade or die tryin’. Jest let ’em beer money’s about to change hands, an’ it ’ll make ’em so durn Jealous they’ll swear a lie to keep it away from anybody they know. That’s human natur’.” “I believe you are right,” said Alan, pulling a long face, “and I’m afraid Wilson will want to make some in quiries before he closes.” “Like as not,” opined the driver. “Rut what I’d do ef I was a-runnin’ it would be to git some feller to strike up with ’im accidental-like an’ liter’ly ; tiil ’im to the neck with good things about the property without him ever flroamin’ he was bein’ worked.” The two exchanged glances. Alan had never looked at a man so admir ingly,'* At that moment he seemed a giant of shrewdness as well as that of physical strength. “I believe you are right, Pole,” he said thoughtfully. “That’s what I am, an’, what’s more, I’m the one that could do the fillin’ without him ever knowin’ I had a fun nel in his mouth. If I can’t do It, I’ll fill my hat with saft mud an’ put it on.” Alan smiled warmly. “I’ll mention it to Miller,” he said. “Yes, you could do it, Pole, if any man on earth could.” Driving up to Miller’s office, they found the door open, and the owner came out with a warm smile of greet ing and aided Mrs. Bishop to alight. “Well,” he smiled when they had taken seats in the office. “We have gained the first step toward victory. Wilson is at the hotel. 1 saw his name on the register this morning.” The elder Bishops drew a breath of relief. The old man grounded his heavy walking stick suddenly, as if it had slipped through his inert fingers. “I’m trustin’ you boys to pull me 1 through,” he said, with a shaky laugh. : “I hain't never treated Alan right, an’ I’m beer to confess it. I ’lowed I was the only one in our layout with any business sense.” “So you are willing to accept the loan?” said Miller. “Willin’? I reckon I am. I never slept one wink last night fer feer some’n’ ’ll interfere with it.” Miller reflected a moment and then said: “I am afraid of only one thinft and that is this: Not one man in a million will make a trade of this size without corroborating the statements made by the people he is dealing with. Wilson is at breakfast by this time, and after he is through he may decide to nose around a little before coming to me. I’m afraid to go after him; he would think I was overanxious. The trouble Is that he may run upon somebody from out in the mountains—there are a lot in town already—and get to talk ing. Just one word about your biting off more than you can chaw, Mr. Bishop, would make him balk like a mean mule. He thinks I’m favoring him now, but let him gfet the notion that you haven’t been holding that land for at least a hundred thousand and the thing would bu’st like a bub ble.” Alan mentioned Pole Baker’s propo sit ion. Miller thought it over for a moment, his brow wrinkled, and then he said: “Good—a good idea, but you must call Pole in and let me give him a few pointers. By George, he could keep Wilson away from dangerous people anyway.” Alan went after Pole, and Miller took him into his consultation room in the rear, where they remained for about fl fteeu minutes. When they came out, Pole’s face was very grave. “I ity, I don’t want his money, as fer as I’m concerned.” “I was jest thinkin’ that, too,” chimed in her husband, throwing a troubled glance all round. “I want money to help me out o' my scrape, but I don't want to trick no man, Yankee or what not, into totin’ my loads. As Betsy says, it seems to me if the land’s wuth the money we needn’t make such a great to-do. I’m afeerd I won’t feel exactly right about it.” The young men exchanged alarmed glances. “You don’t understand,” said Miller lamely, but he seemed to be unprepared for views so heretical to financial deal ings, and could not finish what be had started to say. “Why,” said Alan testily, “the land is worth all Wilson can make out of it with the aid of his capital and the rail road he proposes to lay here. Father, you have spent several years looking up the best timbered properties and getting good titles to it, and to a big lumber company a body of timber like you hold is no small thing. We don't want to cheat him, but we do want to keep him from trying to cheat us by getting the upper hand. Rayburn thinks if he finds out we are hard up he'll try to squeeze us to the lowest notch.” “Well,” sighed Mrs. Bishop, “I’m shore I never had no idea we’d resort to gittin’ Pole Baker to tote anybody around like a hog after a yeer o’ corn. I Mowed we was goin’ to make a open and shut trade that we could be proud of an’ stop folks’ mouths about Al fred’s foolish dealin’s. But”—she look ed at Abner, who stood in the door way leading to the consultation room - “I’ll do whatever Brother Ab thinks is right. I never kuowed Mm to take undue advantage of anybody.” They all looked at Abner, who was smiling broadly. “Well, I say git his money,” he re plied, with a short, impulsive laugh— “git his money, and then, ef you Lind he’s starvin’, hand Mm back what you feel you don’t need. I look on a thing like this sorter like I did on scramblin’ fer the upper holt In wartimes. I re member I shot straight at a feller that was climbin’ up the enemy’s breast works on his all fours. I said to my- se’f, ‘Ef this ball strikes you right, old chap, ’fore you drap over the bank, yo’re one less agin the Confederacy; ef it don’t, you kin pop away at me.’ I don’t think I give Mm anything but a flesh wound in the back, beca’se he jest sagged down a little an’ crawled on. an’ that’s about the wust you could do fer Wilson. I believe he ort to hold the bag awhile. Alf’s hung on to it till his fingers ache an’ he’s weak at the knees. I never did feel like thar was any harm !n passin’ a counterfeit bill that some other chap passed on me. Ef the government, with all its high paid help, cayn’t keep crooked shin- plasters from slidin’ under our noses. It ortn’t to kick agin our lookin’ out fer ourse’ves.” “You needn’t lose any sleep about the Southern Land and Timber com pany, Mrs. Bishop,” said Miller. “They will take care of themselves. In fact, we’ll have to keep our eyes peeled to watch them even if we get this loan. Wilson didn’t come up here for his health.” “Oh, mother’s all right,” said Alan, “and so is father, but they must not chip in with that sort of talk before Wilson.” “Oh, no, you mustn’t,” said Miller. “In fact, I think you’d better let me and Alan do the talking. You see, if you sit perfectly quiet he’ll think you are reluctant about giving such big security for such a small amount of money, and he will trade faster.” “Oh. I’m j>erfectly willin’ to keep quiet,” agreed the old man, who now seemed better satisfied. Pole Baker left the office with long, swinging strides. There was an en trance to the Johnston House through a long corridor opening on the street, and into this Pole slouched. The hotel office was empty save for the clerk, who stood behind the counter looking I can make what I have last me,” he said, transferring his glance to Pole Baker, who had shambled across the room and leaned heavily over the open register. “Want to buy any chickins— flue fry in’ size?” he asked the clerk. “Well, we are in the market,” was the answer. “Where are they?” “I didn’t fetch ’em in today,” said Pole dryly. “I never do till I know what they are a-bringin’. You’d bet ter make a bid on a dozen of ’em any way. They are the finest ever raised on Upper Holly creek, jest this side o' whar old man Bishop's lumber para- : disc begins.” 1 Pole was looking out of the corner of I bis eye at the stranger and saw his band, which was in the act of striking | a match, suddenly stay itself. “We don’t bid on produce till wc | see it,” said the clerk. “Well. I reckon no harm was done by my axin’,” said Pole, who felt the eyes af the stranger on him. “Do you live near here?” asked Wil son, with a smile half of apology at addressing a stranger, even of Pole’s humble stamp. “No.” Pole laughed and waved his hand toward the mountains in the west, which were plainly discernible In the clear morning light. “No, I’m a mountain shanghai. I reckon it’s fif teen mile on a bee line to my shack.” “Did you say you lived near old Mr. Bishop's place?” asked Wilson, moving toward the open door which led to the veranda. “I don’t know which place o’ his'n you mean,” said Pole when they were alone outside and Wilson had lighted his cigar. “That old scamp owns the whole o’ creation out our way. Well, I’ll take that back, fer lie don't own any land that hain’t loaded down with trees, but he’s got territory enough. Some thinks he’s goin’ to seceed from the United States an’ elect himself president of his own country.” Wilson laughed, and then he said: “Have you got a few minutes to spare?” “I reckon I have,’’ said Pole, “ef you’ve got the mate to That cigar.” Wilson laughed again as he fished the desired article from his pocket and gave it and a match to Pole. Then he leaned against the heavy railing of the banisters. "I may as well tell you,” he said ly, and his mind is not at all disturbed.” Wilson fell into the preliminary trap. “Oh, no; it’s not a binding thing at all,” he said. "The payment of the money back to us releases you—that is, of course,” Wilson recovered himself, “if we make the loan.” Several hearts in the room sank, but Miller's face did not alter in the slight est. “Oh, of course, if the loan is made,” he said. Wilson put his silk hat on the top of Miller’s desk and flicked the ashes from his cigar into a cuspidor. Then he looktKl at Mrs. Bishop suddenly— “Does the lady object to smoking?” "Not at all,” said the old lady; “not at all.” There was a pause as Wilson re lighted his cigar and pulled at it in si lence. A step sounded on the sidewalk and Trabue put his head in at the door. Miller could have sworn at him. but he smiled. “Good morning, squire,” he said. “I see you are busy,” said the in truder hastily. “Just a little, squire. I’ll see you in a few minutes.” . “Oh, all right.” The old lawyer moved on down the sidewalk, his hands in his pockets. Miller brought up the subject again with easy adroitness. “I mentioned your proposition to my clients—the land at $100,000. Now. take my ad- A i a n Bishop a favor, but I’ll be Hanged vice”—Miller was smiling broadly— j ef anybody kin look me over after I’ve “let it stand at that.” done a little one an’ pay me for it In won’t forget a thing,” he said to Miller. * ov<> r th<? letters in the pigeonholed key mtm * , « i « • a i 4- Sk wm 11 FT' Vi m a VvI to •I understand exactly what you want. When 1 git through with Mm he’ll want that land bad enough to pay any thing fer it, an’ he won’t dream I’m in cahoot with you nuther. I can man age that. I ain’t no fool ef 1 do have fits.” “Do you remember my description of him?” asked Miller. “You bet I do—thick set, about fifty, bald, red faced, sharp black eyes, iron gray hair, an’ mighty nigh always with a cigar in his mouth.” “That’s right,” laughed Miller. “Now do your work, and we won’t forget you. By all means keep him away from meddlesome people.” When Pole had left the office and Miller had resumed his revolving chair, Mrs. Bishop addressed him, looking •traight into his eyes. “I don’t see,” she said. Id a timid. rack on the wall. There was a big gong overhead which was rung by pull ing a cord. It was used for announc ing meals and calling the porter. A big china howl on the counter was filled with wooden toothpicks, and there was a showcase containing cigars. Pole glanced about cautiously without be ing noticed by the clerk and then with drew into the corridor, where he stood for several minutes listening. Present ly the dining room door opened, and Wilson strolled out and walked up to the counter. “What sort of cigars have you got?” he said to the clerk. “Nothing better than 10—three for a quarter,” was the respectful reply as the clerk recognized the man who had asked for the best room In the house. Wilson thrust his fingers into bis vest |ockct and drew out a cigar. “I guess “I'm a dealer in lumber ray- self. and I'd like to know what kind of timber you have out there.” Pole pulled at the cigar, thrust it well into the corner of his mouth, with the fire end smoking very near his left eye. and looked thoughtful. “M’o tell you the truth, my friend,” he said, “I railly believe you’d be wastin’ time to go over thar.” “Oh, you think so!” It was a vocal start on the part of Wilson. “Yes, sir; the truth is old man Bishop has simply raked into his dern dutch ever’ acre o’ fine timber out that away. Now, ef you went oast, over t’other side o’ the mountains, you mought pick out some good timber; but, as I said, old man Bishop’s got it all in a bag out our way. Sawmill?” “No, I don’t run a sawmill,” said Wilson, with an avaricious sparkle in his eye. “I sometimes buy timbered lands for a speculation; that’s all.” Pole laughed. “I didn’t see how you could be a sawmill man an’ smoke ci gars like this an’ wear them clothes. I never knowed a sawmill man to make any money.” “I suppose this Mr. Bishop is buying to sell again,” said Wilson tentatively. People generally have some such idea when they put money into such prop erty.” Pole looked wise and thoughtful. “1 don’t know whether he is or not,” he said, “but my opinion is that he’ll hold on to it till he’s in the ground. He evi dently thinks a good time’s a-comin’! Thar was a feller out thar t’other day with money to throw at cats. He’s been tryin’ to honeyfuggle the old man Into a trade, but I don’t think he made a deal with Mm.” “Where was the man from?” Wilson spoke uneasily. “I don’t railly know, but he ain’t a-goin’ to give up. He told Neil Fil- more at his store that he was goin’ home to see his company an’ write the old man a proposition that ud fetch Mm ef thar was any trade in Mm.” Wilson pulled out his watch. “Do you happen to know where Mr. Rayburn Miller’s law office Is?” he asked. “Yes; It’s right round the corner. I know whar all the white men in this town do business, an’ he’s as white as they make ’em an’ as straight as a shingle.” “He’s an acquaintance of mine,” said Wilson. “I thought I’d run In and see him before I leave.” “It’s right round the corner an’ down the fust side street toward the court house. I ’ain’t got nothin’ to do; I’ll p’int It out.” “Thank you,” said Wilson, and they went out of the house and down the street together, Pole puffing vigorously at his cigar In the brisk breeze. “Thar you are,” said Pole, pointing to Miller’s sign. “Good day, sir; much obleeged fer this smoke,” and with his head in the air Pole walked past the office without looking in. “Good morning,” exclaimed Miller as Wilson entered. “You are not an early riser like we are here in the country,” He introduced Wilson all round and then gave him a chair near his desk and facing him rather than the others. “This is the gentleman who owns the property, I believe,” said Wilson suave ly as he indicated Bishop. Miller nodded, and a look of cunning dawned in his clear eye. “Yes. I have Just been explaining to Mr. and Mrs. Bishop that the mere signing of a paper such as will be nee essary to secure the loan will not bind them a* all in the handling of their property. You know how cautious old er people are nowadays in regard to legal matters. Now, Alan here, their son, understands the matter thorough ly / Wilson reflected for a moment, and then he said: “All right. Let that go. The other condition is this—and it need he only a verbal promise—that nothing be said about my company's making this loan nor our securing the refusal of the property.” “That will suit us,” said Miller. “Mr. Bishop doesn’t care to have the public know his business. Of course the mortgage will have to be recorded at the courthouse, but that need not at tract attention. I don’t blame Mr. Bishop,” went on Miller in a half con fidential tone. “These people are the worst gossips you ever saw. If you meet any of them, they will tell you that Mr. Bishop has bu’sted Itself wide open by buying so much timber land, but this loan will make him as solid as the Bank of England. The people don't understand his dealings, and they are trying to take it out on him by blasting his reputation for bo- store clothes, I don’t like that one bit, an’ I ain’t afeerd to say so.” “I didn’t mean any offense, Pole,” apologized Miller most humbly. “Well, you wouldn’t ’a’ said it tc some men,” growled Pole. “I know that. When I want pay fer a thing Jike that, I’ll jest go to that corner o’ the street an’ look down at that rock pile whar Alan found me one day an’ paid me out jest to keep me from bein’ i the laughin’ stock o’ this town.” Alan put his arm over his shoulder. “Rayburn didn’t mean any harm,” he said gently. “You are both my friends, and we’ve had a big victory today. Let’s not have hard feelings.” Pole hung his bead stubbornly and Miller extended his hand. Abner Dan iel was an attentive listener, a half smile on his face. “Say, Pole,” he said, with a little laugh, “you run down to Wimbley's an’ tell Mm not to wrop up that suit. ing one of the solidest men in his coun- i* m a -owin’ him a bill, an’ he kin jest ty.” “Well, that’s all, I believe,” said Wilson, and Miller drew a blank sheet of legal cap paper to him and began to write. Half an hour later the papers were signed, and Miller carelessly handed Wilson’s crisp pink check on a New York bank to Mr. Bishop. “There you are, Mr. Bishop,” he said, with a smile. “You didn’t want any one else to have a finger in that big pie of yours over there, but you needed money, and I’ll tell you as a friend that a hundred thousand cash down will be about as well as you can do with that land. It takes money, and lots of it, to make money, and Mr. Wil son’s company can move the thing faster than you can.” “That’s a fact,” said Wilson in a tone that betrayed self gratification. “Now we must all pull together for the railroad.” He rose and turned to Miller. “Will you come with me to record the paper?” “Certainly,” said Miller, and they both left together. The Bishop family were left alone, and, the strain being lifted, they found themselves almost wholly exhausted. "Is it all over?” gasped the old wo man, standing up and grasping her son’s arm. “We’ve got his money,” Alan told her, with a glad smile, "and a fair chance for more.” The pink check was fluttering in old Bishop’s hand. Already the old self willed look that brooked no interfer ence with his personal affairs was re turning to his wrinkled face. 4 1’11 go over to Craig’s bank an’ de credit the value of it on my account.” Pole laughed heartily and thrust his big hand into Miller’s. “Uncle Ab,” he said, “you’d make a dog laugh.” “I believe yo’re right,” said Abner significantly, and then they all roared at Pole’s expense. The next day Alan received the fol lowing letter from Dolly Barclay: Dear Alan—Rayburn Miller told me in confidence of your wonderful success yes terday, and I simply cried with joy. I knew—I felt that you would win, and this is, as he says, a glorious beginning. I am so proud of you, and I am so full of hope today. All our troubles will come out right some day, and now that I know you love me I can wait. Rayburn would not have confided so much to me, but he said while he would not let me tell father anything about the prospective railroad, | he wanted me to prevent him from selling his tract of land near yours. You know i my father consults me about all his busi ness, and he will not dispose of that ; property without my knowing of it. Oh, I wouldn't it be a fine joke on him to have him profit by your good judgment Alan was at the little postoffice in Filmore’s store when he received the letter, and he folded it and restored it to its envelope with a heart filled with j love and tenderness. As he walked | home through the woods it seemed to J him that everything in nature was ministering to his boundless happiness. He felt as light as air as he strode i along. “God bless her dear, dear little I soul!” he said fervently. “Thar you are,” said Pole. proposition that they allow you the refusal of the laud at one hundred thousand, and they have finally come round to It. As I told them, they could not possibly market a thing like that as easily and for as good a price as a company regularly in the business. I may have been wrong in giving such advice, l as the way I felt about it.” Without realizing it, Wilson tripped in another hole dug by Miller's inven th e mind. “They couldn’t do half as well with it,” the Boston man said. “In fact, no one could, as l told you, pay as much for the property as we can, considering the railroad we have to move some where and our gigantic facilities for handling lumber in America and abroad. Still I think, and our directors think, a hundred thousand is a big price.” Miller laughed as If amused. “That’s five dollars an acre, you know, but I’m not here to boom Mr. Bishop’s timber land. In fact, all this has grown out of my going down to At lanta to borrow twenty-five thousand dollars on the property. I think 1 would have saved time if I hadn’t run on you down there, Mr. Wilson.” Wilson frowned and looked at his cigar. “We are willing,” said he, “to make the loan at 5 per cent per annum on two conditions.” “Well, out with them,” laughed Mil ler. “What are they?” “First,” said Wilson slowly and me thodically, “we want the refusal of the property at one hundred thousand dollars.” Miller’s indifference was surprising. "For what length of time do you want the refusal of the property at that fig ure?” he asked, almost in a tone of contempt. Wilson hung fire, his brow wrinkled thoughtfully. “Till it is decided positively,” he got out finally, “whether we can get a charter and a right of way to the prop erty.” “That’s entirely too indefinite to suit my clients,” said the lawyer. “Do you suppose, Mr. Wilson, that they want to hang their property up on a hook like that? Why, if you didn’t attend to pushing your road through—well, they would simply be in your hands, the Lord only knows how long.” “But we intend to do all we can to shove it through,” said Wilson, with a flush. “You know that is not a businesslike proposition, Mr. Wilson,” said Miller, with a bland smile. “Why, it amounts to an option without any limit at all.” “Oh, I don’t know,” said Wilson lamely. “Mr. Bishop will be interested Just as we are in getting a right of way through. In fact, it would insure us of his help. We can’t buy a right of way; we can’t afford it. The citi zens through whose property the road runs must be persuaded to contribute the land for the purpose, and Mr. Bish op, of course, has Influence up here with his neighbors.” “Still he would be very imprudent,” said Miller, “to option bis property without any limit. Now here’s what we are willing to do. As long as you hold Mr. Bishop’s note for $25,000 un paid you shall have the refusal of the This story will be continued; in next Friday’s issue. Gullied Forty PonndK lit Thirty Days. - , , _ . ,, ..T* mi i For several months our younger posit it, he said to Alan. , ^ | brother had been troubled with indi- a day or two to collec it, u u < c ee8 tion. He tried several remedies me check on it right now for any rea sonablc amount.” “I believe I’d ask him not to mention the deposit,” suggested Alan. “Huh! 1 reckon I’ve got sense enough to do that.” “I thought you intended to pay off the mortgage on our farm the fust gestion. but got no benefit from them. We purchased some of Chamberlain’s Stomach and Liver Tablets and he commenced taking them. Inside of thirty days he had gained forty pounds in flesh. He is now fully re covered. We have a good trade on the Tablets. Holley Bros Merchants, thing,’ ventured Mrs. Liiihop. ^ ' Long Branch, Mo. For sale by Cher- “We can’t do it till the notes due , k D c L D Allfson, Cow- nrv” sn <1 U s inn shortlv. I 6 ’ next January,” said Bishop shortly “I agreed to keep the money a yeer, an' Martin Doe ’ll make me hold to it. But what do you reckon I care as long as I’ve got some’n’ to meet it with?” Mrs. Bishop’s face fell. “I’d feel bet ter about it if it was deer,” she faltered. "But the Lord knows we ort to feel thankful to come out as we have. If it hadn't been fer Alan —Mr. Miller said that Alan”— “Ef you all hadn’t made sech a eter nal row,” broke in Bishop testily, “I’d ’a’ had more timber land than this. Colonel Barclay has as fine a strip as any I got. an’ he's bantered me for a trade time an’ agin.” Abner Daniel seldom sneered at any body, no matter what the provocation was, but it seemed impossible for him to refrain from it now. “You’ve been lookin’ fer the last three months like a man that needed more land.” he said. “Jest no furder back ’an last night you ’lowed ef you could git enough fer yore folly to raise the debt off'n yore farm you’d die hap py, an’ now yo’re a-frettin’ beca’se you didn’t buy up the sides o’ the earth an’ give nobody else a foothold. Le’ me tell you the truth, even ef it does hurt a little. Ef Alan hadn’t thought o’ this heer railroad idea, you’d ’a’ been the biggest human pancake that ever lay flat in its own grease.” “I hain’t said nothin’ to the contra ry,” admitted Bishop, who really took the reproof well. “Alan knows what I think about it. i pens. Because a man can sit for forty seconds without talking at the rate of a steam whistle a woman has an idea that he is brooding over black thoughts. UlntiiiR Invites Disease. To cure Dyspepsia or indigestion it is no longer necessary to live on milk ; and toast. Starvation produces such weakness that the whole system be comes an easy prey to disease. Ko- dol Dyspepsia Cure enables the I stomach and digestive organs to digest and assimilate all of the whole some food that one cares to eat, and i is a never failing cure for indigestion, Dyspepsia and ail stomach troubles. Kodol digests what you eat—makes the stomach sweet. Sold by Chero kee Drug Co. A woman can get as much fun out of writing a letter of condolence as a man can get out of an old pipe with a cracked stem. Hancocks’s Liquor Sulphur will give you immediate relief and per- manetly cure all such diseases as Eczema, Pimples, Tetter, Herpes, Ringworm, Dandruff, Diphtheria, Sore Throat, Cuts, Burns, Open Sores, and all blood and skin troubles. Hun dreds of cases of skin diseases have been permanently cured by the use of Hancock’s Liquid Sulphur after , i v.i Twrir** i other remedies failed. For sale Th,.,i Bishop ami his wife went to Cherokee Drug Co. 3ralg s bank, and a moment later Mil- | J It makes queer sensations run ail up and down a girl’s back to wonder what a man would do if she fainted in his arms. Craig ler returned, rubbing his hands with satisfaction. “We got through, and he’s gone to catch his train.” he said. “It worked as smooth as goose grease. I wonder what Pole Baker said to him, , . , or It be saw him. I have an Idea he .'» “>e one that w.ll eleanae the eys- did. from the way Wilson danced toonr [ tfh> ; the llver to aetlon. remoTe music.” A Perfect Palnlemi PHI “Heer’s Pole now,” said Abner from the door. “Come in beer, you triflin’ loafer, an’ give an account o’ yore- se’f.” “I seed ’im makin’ fer the train.” laughed Pole, “an’ so I sneaked in to see what you uns done. He walked like he owned the town.” the bile clear the complexion, cure headache and leave a good taste in the mouth. The famous little pills for doing such work pleasantly and effectually are DeWitt’s Little Early Risers Bob Moore, of Lafayette, Ind., says: “All other pills I have used gripe and sicken, while De- Witt’s Little Early Risers are simply It went through like llghtnin’, with- perfect.” Sold by Cherokee Drug out a hitch or a bobble,” Abner told Company, him. Nothing makes a woman so proud of her husband as to have him use a Biblical quotation when their minis- “You did noble,” said Miller, while Pole and Alan were silently clasping hands. “Now I told you we wouldn’t | dining with” them forget you. Go down to Wimbley’s and tell him to give you the best suit of , a Domo Time* a Night, clothes he’s got and to charge them to Mr. Owen Dunn, of Benton Ferry, me and Alan.” W. Va.. writes: “I have had kidney Pole drew himself up to his full height and stared at the lawyer with flashing eyes. “Blast yore sonl!” ho said. “Don’t you say a thing like that to me agin. I’ll have you know I’ve got feellu'u ns well as you or anybody else. I’d cut off this right arm an’ never wince to do and bladder trouble for years, and It became so bad that I was obliged to get up at least a dozen times a night. I never received any permanent bene fit from any medicine until I tried Foley’s Kidney Cure. After using two bottles, I am cured.’’aCherokee Drug Co.