HEPPNER GAZETTE TIMES, HEPPNgR, OREGON, THURSDAY, NOV. 5, 1925.
PAGE THREE
"Oliver October"
(Continued from Firit Page)
brother-in-law, her husband, alio of
liopmnsville."
Everybody bowed. i
"How ia your dear brother, Mr
ooocn, inquired Mr. Sage.
"I didn't know there waa anything
We matter with Oliver.
"There isn't anything the matter
with him," aaid Mri. gage, "that a
good, stiff drink of whiskey won't
cure."
"Ahem I" coughed her husband. He
had the worried manner of one who
never knew what is coming next.
His wife looked up into hit face
and smiled a lovely, good-humored
smile that waa slowly transformed
Into a mischievous grimace.
"I'm always making breaks, am I
not, Herby dear? It's a terrible
strain, Mr. Gooch, being a parson's
wire."
"Umph!" grunted Mr. Gooch.
At this juncture the sitting room
aoor opened and the proud father.
followed by Serepta Grimes, entered
the room. Beaming, he surveyed the
assembled gathering.
"He's got the finest head you ever
saw," he announced. "Got a head like
a statesman."
Reverend Sage had moved over to
one of the windows, while the other
occupants of the room surrounded
Baxter, and waa gaiing out between
the curtains across the gale-swept
porch Into the blackness beyond. He
shivered a little, poor chap, at the
thought of going out again into the
bitter, unbelievable night at the
thought of his cold little home at the
farther end of the village.
He was thinking, too, of his wife
and the mile walk she would have to
take with him into the very teeth of
the buffeting gale when this visit was
over. She had come to this wretched
little town from a great city, where
houses and flats were warm and snug.
He thought of the warm little room
on the third floor of the boarding
house, where he had lived and studied
for two full years. It was in this
house that he had met Josephine
Judge. She was the daughter of the
kindly widow who conducted the
boarding house a tall, slim girl who
used slang and was gay and blithe
some, and had ambitions! Ambitions?
She wanted to become an actress. She
was stage-struck.
He was not a theater-going youth
He had been brought up with an ab
horrence of the stage and all its in
iquities. So he devoted himself, heart
and soul, to the saving of the mis
guided maiden, with astonishing re
sults. They fell in love with each
other and were married.
He pressed his face against the
cold pane, striving to rid hia mind
of the doubts and worries that beset
It.
Suddenly he drew back with an ex
clamation. The light fell full upon
a face close to the window pane, a
face so startling and so vivid that it
did not appear to be real. A pair
of dark, gleaming eyes met his for a
few seconds; then swiftly the face
was withdrawn. He leaned forward
and peered intently. Two indistinct
figures took shape in the unreliable
darkness at the corner of the porch
two women, he made out.
"Joseph," he called, "there are two
strange women on the porch. Per
haps you "
"Go see who, it is, Joe," command
ed Mrs, Grimes crisply.
Sikes hasetned to obey, and re
turned presently in great excitement.
"Say, Ollie," he burst out, "there's
a couple of women out here from
that gypsy camp. They claim to be
fortune tellers. One of 'em wants to
tell the baby's fortune. She says she
knowed a couple of weeks ago that he
was going to be born today, that's
what she says."
"Well, I'm not going to allow any
gypsy women to get nigh that in
fant," cried Mrs. Grimes.
"She says it ain't necessary to even
see the baby. She says the only re
liable and genuine way to tell a ba
by's fortune Is to read the father's
hnnd."
Mr. Baxter arose. "Bring Her in,
Joe. Now, don't kick, Sercpty. My
mind's made up, I'm going to know
my son's future."
' Mr. Sikes rushed from the room.
A moment later, he returned, follow
ed by two shivering women who step
ped Just inside the door.
The host, with a nervous sort of
geniality, beckoned to the strangers.
"Better come down to the fire,
Queen," he said.
The elder woman fixed an anxious
look upon Mr. Baxter.
"I am the queen of the gypsies,
mister, but how come you to know
it?" she asked in a hoarse, not un
musical voice.
"Always best to be on the safe
side," said Baxter. "But look here,
do you mean to say, Queen, that you
can look into my hand and tell what's
ahead of my boy upstairs?"
"First, you must cross my palm
with silver."
The company drew their chairs
close as Baxter dropped some coins
into the gypsy's palm. Silence per
vaded the room. Every eye was on
the dark, impressive face of the fortune-teller,
as she seized Ollie's hand
and began:
"I see a wonderful child. He is
strong and sturdy. I can see this aon
of yours, mister, as a great leader
of men. Great honor is in store for
him, and great wealth. I see men In
uniform following your son many
men, mister, and all of them armed.
I see him as a successful man, as the
head of great undertakings, He has
been out of college but a few years."
"That will please his mother," said
Baxter, snifllling.
"Shi" put in Mr. Sikes, testily.
"I see him," continued the for
tune teller, "as he is noarlng thirty.
Rich, respected and admired. He
will hnve many affairs of the heart.
I see two dark women and one, two
yes, three fair women," ,
"That would seem to show that
he's going to be a purty good-looking
sort of a feller, wouldn't It?" said
Baxter proudly.
"He will grow up the imago of his
father, mister."
The gypsy leaned back In her chair,
sproudlng hor hands In a gestura of
finality.
"I see no more,'' aha aaid.
"Is that all?" Mr. Baxter sniffed.
"Well, Queen, I guesa you took u
ail In purty neatly."
Outraged royalty turned on him.
"You scoff at ma. For that you
shall have the truth. All that I have
told you will come true. But I did
not tell you the end that I saw for
him. Hark ye! This son of yours
will go to the gallows. He will swing
from the end of a rope for a crime
of which he is not guilty." She was
now speaking in a high, shrill voice
her hearers tat open-mouthed, as if
under a spell that could not be shaken
off. "It is all at plain at the noon
day sun. He will never reach the age
of thirty. That is all. That is the
end. I have spoken the truth. You
forced me to do it. I go."
CHAPTER II
Ten Years Later.
rT,EN years passed, years of change
and growth. Rumley had not
stood still during the decade. It
was the proud boast of its most en
terprising citizen, Silas Link, that it
had done a great deal better than
Chicago; it had tripled its popula
tion.
Oliver Baxter, Sr., owned one of
the new business "blocks" on Clay
street. It was known as the Baxter
block, erected in 1896.
Mary Baxter died of typhoid fever
when young Oliver was nearinjr sev
en. Her untimely demise revived the
half-forgotten prophecy of the gypsy
fortune-teller. People looked se
verely at each other, and in hushed
tones discussed the inexorable ways
of fate. It was the first "sign" that
young Oliver's fortune was coming
true.
Of an entirely different nature was
the agitation created by the unright
eous behavior of Josephine Sage, who
had finally succumbed to the lure of
the stage, leaving her husband and
child, in order to gratify her life's
ambition. Half the women in town
on learning that she was going to
Chicago for a brief visit with her
folks, went around to the parsonage
to kiss her good-by. Excoriation and
a stream of "I told you ao s ' were
bestowed upon the pretty young wife
and mother when it became known
that she was not coming back.
Herbert Sage was stunned, bewil
dered. . . . She wrote him from
Chicago at the end of the first week
of what was to have been a fort
night's visit with her mother. She
was leaving at once for New York,
where she had been promised a trial
by one of the greatest American pro
ducers. A month later came a tele
gram from her saying she was re
hearsing a part in a new piece that
was sure to be the "hit of the season."
"You will be proud of me, Herby,1
she wrote, "because I will take mighty
good care that you never have any
reason to be ashamed of me or for
me to be ashamed of myself. You
know what I mean. I don't suppose
I will say my prayers as often as I
did when you were around to remind
me of them, but I will be a good girl
just the same."
That was four years ago. Her con
fidence In herself had been justified,
and, for all we know, the same may
be said of Herbert Sage s confidence
in her. She had the talent, the voice,
the beauty, and above all, the mag
netism, and so there was no holding
her back.
For two successive seasons she ap
peared in a Chicago theater, follow
ing New York runs of the pieces in
which she was playing.
Finally, in one of her letters an
nouncing a prospective engagement
in London, she put the question to
him: "Do you want a' divorce from
me, Herby?" His reply was terse
and brought from her the following
undignified but manifestly sincere tel
egram: "Neither do I, so we'll stick
till the cows come home. Sailing
Friday. Will cable. Much love."
She made a "hit" in London In the
big musical success of that season.
They liked her so well over there
that they wouldn't let her come back
to the States.
She was greatly missed by little
Oliver October. For some reason
perhaps she did not explain it her
self at any rate, she did not go to
the trouble of speculating; she had
token a tremendous fancy to the
child. This small boy of five or six
was the only being in town with
whom she could play to her heart's
content, and she made the most of
him. Her own tiny baby, Jane, Inter
ested but did not amuse her.
Oliver was always to have a warm
corner In his heart for the gay Aunt
Josephine, but new diverting games
reduced his passionate loneing for
her to a mild but pleasant memory.
remaps, too, her own daughter had
something to do with Josephine's fad-
ng from Oliver's mind.
For Janle Sage, at the age of six.
was by far the prettiest and the
most-8ught-after young lady in Rum-
ley. Oliver was her chosen swain,
and many were the battles he fought
in her defense.
The time came when Oliver Oc
tober Baxter, age ten, had to be told
what was In Btore for him if he did
not mend his ways. For, be it here
recorded, Oliver not only possessed a
quick temper, but a surprisingly san
guinary way of making it felt.
He was a rugged, freckle-faced
youngster with curly brown hair, a
pair of stout legs, and a couple of
hard fists, with which he made his
temper felt.
It was after witnessing a particu
larly ferocious battle between Oliver
and Sammy Parr, that Joseph Sikes
and Silas Link decided that the boy
must be warned of the fate that
awaited him if his awful temper was
not curbed.
And so it came to pass that vonnn-
Oliver October learned what was in
store for him If his "fortune" came
true. In the presence of his fa
ther, his good friend, Mr, Sage, who
had opposed tolling the boy, and the
Messrs. Link and Sikes, ho was made
to realize the vastnesa of the dark
and terrifying shadow that hung over
him.
When they had finished, he cleared
his throat, "I wish my ma was
here," he said, his lip trembling.
"Amen to that," snid Mr, Saee; fer
vently.
"Amonl" repented Mr. Link In his
most professional voice.
Mr. Sage laid a hand on the boy's
shoulder, "Do you say your prayers
every night, Oliver?"
"Yes, sir I do."
"Well er If Brother Baxter doet-
n't mind, and if you gentlemen will
excuse me, I think I will go upstairs
with Oliver and and listen to his
prayer."
A little later on, the tall, spare pas
tor sat on the side of young Oliver's
trundle bed and talked in a confi
dential whisper.
"I am going to tell you something,
Oliver, and I want you to believe it,
Nobody on this earth can fortell the
future. All that talk about your be
ing hung tome day is poppycock
pure poppycock. Don't you belive a
word of it. I came upstairs with you
just for the purpose of telling you
this not really to hear your pray
ers. Now don't you feel better?"
"Yes, tir," taid Oliver. "I do."
"What I want you to do, Oliver, is
to go on leading a er regular boy's
life. Do the things that are right
and square, be honest and fearless
and no harm will ever come to you.
Now, turn over and go to aleep, there't
a good boy."
And the kind-hearted minister went
downstairs feeling that he had given
the poor lad something besdies the
gallows to think biut.
It is not the purpose of the narra
tor of this story to deal at length
with the deeds, exploits, mishaps and
sensations of Oliver as a child. He
was seventeen when he left Rumley
high school and became a freshman
at the state university. The last of
the three decades allotted to him by
the gypsy was shorn of its first
twelve months when he received his
degree. As Mr. Sikes announced to
Reverend Sage at the conclusion of
the commencement exercises, he had
less than nine more years to live at
the very outside a gloomy state
ment that drew from the proud and
happy minister an unusually harsh
rejoinder.
You ought to be kicked all the
way home for saying such a thing as
that, Joe Sikes." Turning to the
slim, pretty girl who walked beside
him across the June-warmed campus,
he said comfortingly: "Don't mind
this old croaker, Jane, dear."
A word in passing about Jane Sage.
Slender, graceful, slightly above me
dium height, just turning into young
womanhood, she was an extremely
pretty girl.
She adored Oliver October. There
had been a time when the was his
sweetheart, but that was aget ago
when both of them were young! Now
he was supposed to be engaged to a
girl in the graduating class and
Jane was going to be an old maid
to tbe childish romance was over.
Late in the fall of 1911 young Ol
iver, having passed the age of twenty-one,
packed hia bag and trunk,
shook the dust of Rumley from his
feet, and accepted a position in the
construction department of a Chi
cago engineering and investment con
cern.
Early in 1913 he was tent to China
by his company on, a mission that
kept him in the Orient for nearly a
year and a half. A week before
Christmas, 1914, the Rumley Dispatch
came out with the announcement
under a double, head that Oliver Oc
tober Baxter was returning from the
Far East, where he had been engaged
in the most stupendous enterprise ev
er undertaken by American capital.
When he arrived he was met at the
depot by a delegation.
"I can't believe my eyes no, tir,
I can't,'! cried old Oliver, quaveringly,
as she wrung his son's hand. "You're
back again, alive and sound."
You bet I'm alive," answered Oli
ver October, laying his arm over the
old man's shoulder and patitng his
back. "It's mighty good to see you,
and it's wonderful to be back In the
old town again. Hello, Uncle Joe!
Well, you see they haven't hung me
yet."
And they ain't going to if I csn
help it," roared Mr. Sikes, pumping
Oliver s arm vigorously. "Not on
your life! It's all fixed, Oliver. Wa
ve got you the appointment of city
civil engineer of Rumley."
You needn t worry about that.
father. I'll not accept the position."
Mr. Baxter brightened. "You won't?
Good for you! That'll show Joe
Sikes and Silas Link that they can't
run everything."
Presently they drew up in front
of the Baxter residence, and as they
did so an uncommonly pretty girl
opened the front door.
Hello, Oliver!" she cried.
Hello, Jane!" he shouted back, as
he ran up the steps. "Geel It's great
to see you. And, my goodness, what
a big girl you are."
He was holding her warm, strong
hands in his own; they wore looking
straight into each other's eyes.
"You haven't grown much." she
said slowly, "Except that you are a
man and not a boy."
That's it," he cried. "The differ
ence in you is that you're a woman
and not a girl."
"Come in," she said, with a queer
dignity that she herself did not understand.
When he came downstairs after hav
ing unpacked his bags and scattered
the contents all over the room, he
found the "company" already assem
bled. As might have been expected,
the guests including Rev. Mr. Sage,
Mr. Sikes and Mr. Link, and one out-
lder, the mayor of Rumley, Mr. Sam
uel Belding.
"What's this I hear?" demanded
the latter sternly, as he shook hands
with the young man. "Your father's
ust been telling us you won't accent
tho distinguished honor of the city of
Bum ley has conferred upon you.
What's the matter with it."
The truth of the matter is." Oliver
nswered seriously, "I have other
plans. I'm going Over There in Feb
ruary with the Canadians. It's all
settled, I'm to have my aid job back
when the war is over."
"But it's not our war!" cried Mr.
Sikes.
"It's everybody's war," spoke youni
Oliver out of the very depths of hit
soul. "Wt will be in it tome day.
Oh, I'll come back, never fear. You
see, Undo Joe, I've just got to pull
through allvo and well, to that I can
bo hung when my time comes."
(Continued next week)
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