THE SUNDAY OREGONIAN, PORTLAND, AUGUST 16, 1914.
6
J
on ornery
lines
CARICATTTRE OF THE AUTHOR AND ARTIST BY HIMSELF.
The Call of the Sex
Here It Is, Hot From the Fountain Pen
of the Grand Past Master of the
United Order of Writers
of Sectional Fiction
THE gripping fiction of
James Mon tgomery
Chambers needs no in
troduction to our 8,427,967
GUARANTEED readers.
Here we have SEX, rampant,
rampageous, quivering, yea,
snorting. Who but this master
of Sectional fiction could have
conceived and executed this stu
pendous Story of Passion,
abysmal, chaotic, typically
American, yet virile? In this
story we have exponents of two
of our leading SEXES the
hairy, primeval Man-in-Khakil
the yielding yet submissive
Woman. Before the reader's
protruding eyes these two
pawns of Destiny are hurtled
pell-mell into a seething mael
strom of pulsing Passion. Go
to it! The Editors.
By JAMES MONTGOMERY CHAMBERS.
Author of "Will She" "Can She?" "Did
She?" "She Did!" and "Then Some."
Illustrated by Howard Chandler Flags.
The ardent Cuban sun shone
down through the pall of
smokeless powder that floated
. over the soldiers of Weyler and
Shafter. From the palm-clad
hills above the stricken valley
sounded the steady rasping
bark of eight thousand merci
less Krag-Jorgensens. Over
head could be heard the pas
sionate shrieks of bullets tear
ing their way through the male
and female eucalyptus trees.
The Americans had been
momentarily repulsed.
Captain Cortlandt Schuyler,
a descendant of a number of
'
New York's most tiresome fam
ilies (called by his regiment
"The-Hairy-One" as a slight
testimonial to his extreme mas
culinity), was poking his sword
impartially into the calves of
the legs of his demoralized boys
and cursing them into condition
for the next attack on the Span
ish blockhouse.
Schuyler needed no orders,
nor did he wait for those he did
not need. He knew all about
War, as he had slept in Brook
lyn for years and had an office
in New York.
Had you asked him what
Fear was he would have looked
at you in a dazed way,
scratched his head and laughed
foolishly, "Damfino."
Taking from his pocket a
massive solid gold cigarette
case it had been a present to
his great-great-grandfather, the
Admiral, from the Maharajah
of Poo he drew out a gold
tipped cigarette, marked only
with his initials and a simple
coronet, and nonchalantly light
ed it. Although a member of
an old New York family,
Schuyler knew instinctively
that that was what a cigarette
was for.
Now, flicking the ashes
from the weed, he gave the or
der to advance on the double
quick through the tangled Per
fecto bushes toward the enemy.
The Intrepid Youngsters Fol
lowed Him Blithely.
The intrepid youngsters fol-
Now that all of our leading
mucs have been thoroughly
raked, one cannot see what will
hold the public, unless it is Sex.
Of course, in a year or two it
may be Humor or Religion, or
Athletics, or Astronomy but
the latest thing is, no doubt,Sex.
History has produced several in
stances where the influence of
Sex might have been distinctly
noticed even prior to that Edenic
affair, but the thing has not had
the popular attention it deserves
until recently.
lowed him as blithely as if
headed toward the Polo
Grounds, instead of possible
annihilation. What was good
enough for The - Hairy - One
was good enough for them.
At the head of his men he
rushed down into the valley,
followed closely by his kins
man, Lieutenant Murray Hill.
But suddenly, as Captain
Schuyler was in the very act of
leaping over some dead Span
iards that had not been cleaned
up after the last battle. Lieu
tenant Hill saw him stop and
stiffen.
"For heaven's sake, Cort, are
you hit?" cried the Lieutenant.
"Hit?" repeated the Cap
tain, with a mysterious laugh.
"Yes, Murray, but not in the
way you mean. I can't go on.
You must take my place, old
t
man.
"What is it? Sunstroke?"
"No, no ! I can't explain. It
is a weird, imperative summons
from over there beyond be
yond" He pointed wav-
eringly in eight or nine direc
tions. Then, as his men swept by
him in a cloud of dust, the Cap
tain wheeled dizzily to the left
and staggered off into the jun
gle. As he disappeared Lieu
tenant Hill, who stood frozen
in amazement and horror,
thought he heard a demoniacal
laugh a laugh such as is sel
dom heard outside the passion
ate pages of a Sex Story. But
was it a laugh, or was it the
cry of the amorous Panatella,
circling high above?
CHAPTER It
In one of the noisome hospi
tal tents Nurse Van Lithe, with
a pan full of sterilized instru
ments, stood at the surgeon's
side. A young trooper was
about to have his leg amputated
at the wrist, and the beautiful
and pure young nurse throbbed
with deep yet perfectly proper
sympathy. (But just you wait!)
She was quite unconscious of
the charms of her voluptuous
figure as revealed by the allur
ing, low-necked, pink chiffon
nurses uniform she wore, as
prescribed by the Army regu
lations. From somewhere out
side on the terrace were wafted
from the muted violins of the
Hungarian orchestra the sensu
ous cadences of "Lion de Bal."
The young but susceptible
surgeon, Catesby Farquhar by
name, was waiting for her to
hand him his instruments. m A
strong sense of the strange fas
cination of this pure though
chase-me-boys girl was upon
him. He did not look at her,
but he knew that her mane was
tawny and curled in little watch
springs at the back of her neck ;
that her eyelashes made a slith
ering sound when she lowered
them, slowly, like Venetian
blinds ; that she looked as if the
blood of her face had all been
squeezed down into her red lips,
moist and luscious those coral
colored invitations to forget
your higher self. He knew but
too well, poor wretch, that she
was anything but helpful in the
fever ward.
But Catesby had work to do
Man's Work. So he gritted
his bridgework and turned
toward her with expectant, out
stretched palm.
As he did so he was horrified
at the girl's expression.
She was standing there in all
her soul-withering voluptuous
ness with uplifted head and a
look in her unseeing eyes of a
blend of primordial passion, far
focused tenderness, unholy
fanaticism with a dash of hyp
notic hysteria! "My word!"
murmured Catesby. "Can this
be she?"
The pan of instruments
dropped from her nerveless
though beautiful fingers.
"Are you sick?" Catesby's
voice was hoarse with emotion.
"Never felt better in my
life," Miss Van 'Lithe smiled
unsteadily at him.
This rather got his goat.
"Then pick up those instru
ments" I wish to remark at this junc- t
In
Words and Pictures
I Should Say So!!
"SHE MADE A CARMEN MOVEMENT AT HIM WITH HER HIPS."
ture that as a surgeon young
Catesby Farquhar was all to
the Adhesive Plaster, but on
the Virile, Red-Blooded, Car
nal Man proposition he left
large wads to be desired. At
this crucial moment he allowed
his professional instincts to dom
inate him and completely for
got the alluring charms of Nurse
Van Lithe. Of course, the girl
didn't know she was seductive
or anything; she was too pure
to notice it anyhow. But there
she stood, with undulating and
creamy skin gleaming wherever
there wasn't any pink chiffon
uniform. Her white rounded
arms with the diamond bracelet
pushed up as far as it would go
on her perfect forearm, with
that gentle heaving of her super
wonderful You see what I
mean he was a boob.
She gave him an enigmatical
look and said, "Pick 'em up
yourself ma Via off!"
"You're off! Where?" The
much-lacking surgeon was dum
founded. "I don't know where I'm go
ing, but I'm on my way some
"IT IS K. WEIRD IMPERATIVE SUMMONS FROM OVER THERE BB
' YOWD HXQJOV ,
thing calls me something from
over there beyond beyond !'
She pointed waveringly in eight
or nine directions. She swayed
a little, still smiling.
"Woman, are you crazy?
Have you been hitting the
wood-alcohol? Don't you know
this poor fellow's life depends
upon us?"
She shrugged her shoulders
prettily and made a Carmen
movement at him with her hips,
and glided from the tent like a
panther.
CHAPTER HI
Stumbling crazily over the
twisted vines and beating aside
the affectionate tropical un
dergrowth, Captain Schuyler
moved toward his unknown
goal, humming, "Love Me and
the World Is Mine!" through
his heavily scented blonde mus
tache. He had forgotten
everything War, the United
States, Duty, his pipe, his solid
gold cigarette case, the mono
grams on his shirt sleeves in
deed everything of any moment,
except that he was a gentleman.
He never could forget that un
der the most trying circum-
stances, thank you.
His only thought was that
something called him. It was a
command.
As he came to the end of the
noxious jungle he spied some
thing through the leaves
something that drew him con
vulsively, in jerks, suffocatingly,
madly, joyously forward. He
instinctively took a perfumed
breath tablet as he galloped per
spiringly toward his magnet.
He paused only a moment, to
Blanco his white buckskin shoes
from the little can he always
carried with him in an em
broidered satin bag. Noblesse
Oblige ! On again, though the
thorns ripped his fair, boyishly
white young flesh. He should
worry !
Rushing bubblingly at him
with a lovely feminine lope, un
mindful of the sad havoc the
briers were playing with her
pink chiffon frock, which had
been almost torn from her back
in her sprint, came Nurse Van
Lithe. It was indeed no other.
In all Cuba there was nothing
like her nay, in all fiction
there was no chicken that had
anything on hef for pippin
esqueness. Oh. Gosh! She
was Ger-and !
He bounded over the last
rubber plant on the edge of the
clearing. She, also, with the
glad sweet cry of the homing
pigeon, bounced steamingly at
him.
"Oh Man - in - Khaki." she
cried.
They met in mid-air. That
was some meeting. The Mer
rimac and the Monitor's was an
anaemic affair alongside of it
They landed on a soft rock,
clasped in each other's arms,
just as if they had been properly
introduced.
And as they sat there, he
holding her by her shell-like
ears, the low, sweet moans of a
Cuban love song wen wafted
toward them from a shepherd's
hut nearby, where some one
played upon the sexaphone.
(To be continued in our next)
(Copyright. SUa T, Wl
THEY IET IN MID-AIR.