HEPPNER GAZETTE TIMES, HEPPNER, OREGON, THURSDAY, JULY 5, 1928.
PAGE THREE
r j 2 Edison Aiarsjiall
WHAT HAPPENED BEFORE
Dr. Long Is visiting Southley Downs,
to which he Is conducted by Ahmad
Das. an Oriental. There he meets Mr.
Southley, whom a detective friend, Al
exander Pierce, had told him to watch,
and his son Ernest Southley, Mr, Hay-
ward and his Bon Vilas, and then Jose-
phine Southley, whom he had Been faint
on me irain. josepmne lens mm me
story of Southley Downs and Its ghost,
which is not the ghost of a human Delng
but of a tiger.
Dr. Long has a quarrrel with Vilas
Hayward over Josephine, and finds that
the Haywards have a strange authority
over the Southleys. He Is ordered to
leave Southley Dewns. The rain pre
vents him leaving at once. Dr. Long
and Ernest go out on the road in the
rain looking for the tracks of a tiger
that Ernest says are there.
They find the tracks. Later Ernest
and Dr. Long see a prowling creature
In the hall of Southley Downs. This
frightens the elder Hayward, who also
sees It. Erneat begins to feel that Ah
mad Das Is perpetrating some deviltry.
The elder Hayward Is later found
dead, his neck broken as If by a giant's
blow.
The coroner and police arrive in or
der to investigate.
Because of the murder, Dr. Long must
remain at Southley Downs. All the
persons there are questioned by Inspec
tor Freeman.
NOW GO ON WITH THE STORY.
"Yet you knew of this Influence.
The fact that Southley let his guest
strike you before his face."
"It seemed to me that they were
the closest of friends."
"And where were you just before
the bell rang, when Southley told
you to get out the car?"
"In the kitchen."
"How long?"
"At least an hour before."
And he told him what ha was
doing to prove it.
Ernest corroborated my story
perfectly.
"And what did you think of the
elder Hayward?" he was asked.
"I didn't like him."
"And why not?"
. "I didn't like his attitude with my
father. He was too arrogant, and
demanded more than a guest
should. His manners were often
boorish. Nor did I like the way he
threw his son with my sister."
"I believe that was your sister's
part to object not yours."
"Perhaps it Is."
"And she made no objection?"
"Never. Of course I don't know
sis very well."
The detective and I looked at him
in amazement
"And what do you mean by that
unusual speech?" the former asked.
"That you don't know your sister
very well."
"Because we went to different
schools. Both of us are compara
tive strangers to Southley Downs."
The detective turned to Josephine.
"And what light have you to
throw on this matter, Miss South
ley?" he asked.
"None at all," the girl replied.
"And where were you, after the
scene in the den?"
"I went straight to bed. My
maid helped me undress."
"And the Haywards must not
have been so unpopular with you as
with your brother and Ahmad?"
' I was with both of them a great
deal."
"And I think you took Vilas's part
against Dr. Long."
Her voice lowered.
"Yes."
"Any why did you do that?"
"Because I couldn't do anything
else under the circumstances."
"You evidently didn't like Dr.
Long?"
"I did like Dr. Long. But his re
lation with me was greatly different
from that of Vilas."
She looked squarely into his eyes
as she talked. The room faded ex
cept for her. The faces of the
watching circle became a mist. I
don't know why each answer she
made seemed to go so deep into me
each word each Inflection of
voice an indelible Imprint In my
memory. I couldn't turn my eyes
from her white face. I hardly heard
the detective's questions when he
turned to Southley They came
from somewhere far off.
"Please tell me Southley, Just
what were the relations between
you and the Haywards."
"The elder Hayward and I were
the oldest friends," the old man an
swered. He spoke falterlngly, in
the hesitant way of age.
"They had been here almost a
month?"
"Yes."
"How long did you ask them
for?"
His voice changed ever so slightly-
"As long as they would remain."
"You were In the den, In the
scene between Dr. Long and the
younger Hayward?"
"Yes."
"You sided In with Vilas Hay
ward?" "Yes."
"Did you think he was In the
right?"
"I -I didn't know for sure."
"Then why did you take the stand
you did?"
His answer called me from my
preoccupation. It rang In the quiet
room. He spoke It softly, hesi
tantly; yet all other sounds became
as nothing.
"Because, Inspector Freeman," he
snld simply, "I couldn't do any other
thing with wisdom. Because Vilas
Hayward Is going to marry my
daughter, Josephine."
After dinner , I met Inspector
Freeman In the hall. He called me
to ohe side. Perhaps he was a little
more Intent, a little more nervous
and quick of motion than in the
afternoon.
"I'm In need of your help," he
told me.
"And I'm ready to give It."
"Look In the kitchen and see
where Ahmad Dag Is, and what he
is doing."
I obeyed, on a plausible excuse.
Ahmad Das was polishing the sil
ver. I came back to report.
"The coast Is clear, then," the In
spector exulted. "Long, I want you
to come with me and search Ah
mad's rooms. I can trust you, I
think, when I say that I haven't any
further question but that the Hindu
Is the murderer."
"Then you must have discovered
something new."
"No; but he was the one man who
went out of the house with Hay
ward the one man In striking
range. I don't believe the South
leys were implicated; and knowing
you as I do by reputation, it is ab
surd to think that you were. That
leaves Ahmad. We know that he
hated him, so we have a motive.
But the Hindu's a funny duck, isn't
he?
"Did you ever see a man cross
the room with such a funny, catlike
stride? He walks as if he had
cushions on his feet"
We mounted to the third flight;
then turned into Ahmad's room.
My admiration for Freeman in
creased mightily when I saw him
in action. It was impossible to im
agine a more complete search.
"If there's murder, there's bound
to be blood," he said. "Nothing Is
so convincing to a court as a gar
ment with blood on It He's been
kept pretty busy since the murder,
and I don't believe he'd have time
to dispose of all his things. That's
the chance I'm playing for."
Eut evidently Ahmad Das had
forseen this contingency. The de
tective searched swiftly for twenty
minutes; then paused to wipe the
little beads of perspiration from his
lean face.
"It's no use," he said. "No clews
worth finding."
He turned toward the door.
"There's one place you haven't
searched at all," I told him.
"Where?" He turned in amaze
ment
"That drawer full of linen." I
pointed to a drawer in the dresses.
"I glanced Into It He wouldn't
put It in such an obvious place as
that Even Ahmad Das wouldn't
be that much of a fool."
"Perhaps, Inspector Freeman,
you have never heard of M. Dupin?"
inspector Freeman stopped to
consider.
'His name's slipped my mind," he
confessed.
"M. Dupin was a very famous de
tective a Frenchman. A very
great American wrote about him
long ago."
"Oh, you mean a story-book de
tective," Freeman scorned. "I'm
glad to say I've never wasted my
time reading such truck. None of
'em were ever practical. Practical
men are the go nowadays. The time
they wasted In theories and talk"
'Yet sometimes their theories
came out right. Mr. Dupin would
have been the first to tell you that
for the very reason that you would
tnlnK that drawer too obvious a
place for a man to hide a garment
It would be the very place an astute
criminal would hide it He would
know In advance that you wouldn't
look there, and therefore it would
be a good place. He proved it with
the story of a stolen letter, hidden
among a packet of other letters, in
plain sight.
"It's all right in books; but It
don't work out in life," Freeman
commented.
Of course I knew that as a whole
he spoke the truth. But it had be
gun to dawn on me that Freeman
was not the highest type of official
detective. If he had been, I would
never have asked the question about
Dupin; and I would not have had
the cold courage to lecture to him
now.
"Then there was a later detective
a little, fat, Catholic priest" I
went on. "He asked his friend
where a wise man would hide a
pebble."
"And his friend, If he had any
sense, would have said to bury it
six feet under the ground and
smooth off the top."
"His friend told him to hide it on
the beach. Then the detective ask
ed where a wise man would hide a
leaf. And the answer was In the
forest I don't say that Ahmad Das
would have chosen this drawer if
he had time to choose a better
place. But It is certuinly the most
likely place In this room."
I went to the drawer and hunted
among the garments. And I'm
afraid the color came to my face.
Evidently my theories were to go
unsupported by facts.
"I guess Ahmad Das didn't hide
his pebble on the beach," the dotcc
tlve exulted.
Then I looked twice at a newly
laundered shirt that I had picked
up and laid down before. It struck
me as being an unusually heavy
garment Some inspiration made
me unpin it. And folded within It
was another shirt, covered with
great splotches of dark brown stain.
Freeman leaped toward me and
took the garment In his hands.
Just for an Instant he examined It
"Good Lord!" he exclaimed.
"You've found It after all. Do you
know what those spots are?"
"No."
"They're blood. It's convincing
proof. And It's Ahmad' shirt, too."
Swiftly he compared the laundry
mark on It with the mark of the
other garments in the drawer. I
didn't dream that this austere man
was capable of such exultation. His
eyes actually seemed to glisten;
and a high color suffused his lean,
dark race. 1 thought of a hound
hot upon the trail.
"It's the final proof!" he cried.
ukstutbis purw
"We'll get him now. I'll wring a
confession out of him.
Then both of us drew up sharply.
"Ahmad is coming Into his room,"
I whispered. For I was sure that
the faint sound I had heard had
been the fall of Ahmad's light feet
in the corridor.
Both of us Instinctively braced
ourselves. We didn't know what
frenzy of desperation we would
have to face if Ahmad saw us with
that, condemning evidence in our
hands. A long moment dragged
away.
Then Freeman stole to the door.
He looked up and down the cor
ridor. "Must have been a rat," he ex
claimed.
"Rather noisy for a rat"
"Maybe the wind. But we'd bel
ter get out of here. He'll come back
any moment"
I started to pin the dinner shirt
into even folds, just as I had found
it
"M. Dupin did the same with the
envelope of the letter," I explained.
"Then the criminal didn't know it
had been found."
"I do believe you've got the mak
ings of a detective!" Freeman told
me with a little amazement
Then we crept down the stairs.
He took the shirt Into the room
that had been given him for his
use; and rejoined me In the library.
"I've got a hunch," he said..
His face was clouded. Little
wrinkles were flickering between
his eyes. I waited for him to ex
plain. "I've got an Idea that some one's
been following me this last three
minutes. I'm not an imaginative
man, Long, but I've had that hunch
before. I never believed it; but
once I woke up in the hospital with
a bump as big as an egg over one
eye where a billy had hit me and
knew that it had been so. It's a
queer thing; yet I felt that way
when I was going to my room just
now. The noise we heard in the
corridor seemed to bear It out But
it Isn't Ahmad. I stole out and
took a look at him. His hands are
buried in flour. There is no one In
the servant's quarters but a colored
man or two, and that long-legged
whiskered bird that brought out
the rowboat. Robin, I believe you
call him."
There was no answer worth mak
ing. So we sat and watched the
darkness steal over the marshes. It
seemed to me that the waters had
already begun to recede. The flood
had been the sole result of the ten
Inches of rain; now It was done,
and the river was quickly falling.
The Florida darkness is always
worth watching. It comes so gently,
so like a dark mist that the wind
blows up. The color of the water
changed and deepened. The shad
ows that were the Jungle grew
black. Again we heard the sounds
of wild life that the storm of the
previous night had stilled.
We smoked cigars and talked.
And after a while one of the colored
men came to tell us of a discovery.
A flat rock Jutted from the hill
side about fifty yards from the
scene of the murder, he said. Just
at twilight he had walked near it,
and had noticed a queer discolora
tion on the stone. It was evidently
clotted blood, he thought and what
looked like fragments of flesh.
"iou don't mean human flesh?"
Freeman asked.
His eyes narrowed, ever so slight
ly. It was evident that the colored
man was terrified almost beyond
the power of speech.
"Yes, suh. I couldn't tell fo' sho'.
But It was some kind of flesh, suh."
We dldn t waste any more time.
We hastened down the footpath.
Although the night had fallen, the
darkness was nothing of the inten
sity of the night before. I was able
to discern the outline of his fleure
as he walked ten paces in front of
me. I could detect the shadows that
were the stables and garages, and
the nearer of the cottages of the
colored farmhands. And then, at
the same instant, both of us saw an
other shadow.
Some one was standing perfectly
still on the hillside. Of course we
couldn't see plain. He was pos
sibly fifty feet distant; and If we
had not possessed such an accurate
knowledge of the geography of the
hill he might have easily been mis
taken for a shrub or stump. He
was doing that which all hunters
learn to do, standing perfectly still
to avoid detection. He was trust
ing to the shadows to obscure him.
We both stopped on the trail.
"Who's there?" the detective de
manded. The shadow did not wa
ver. "Who's there? Answer, or I'll
shoot," Freeman Insisted. He start
ed across the turf toward him. And
as a deer springs, the other sped
down the hill in flight.
There was something startling In
the speed with which he ran. We
flung out in pursuit, Freeman firing
his pistol in the air. But even If he
had wished, It would have been im
possible, except by tho blindest
luck, for the detective to have hit
the fugitive. A pistol is never ac
curate at long range; and few
marksmen can shoot at all In the
darkness. In an Instant our quarry
faded, slipped away and melted In
the shadows.
We ran and cried out and hunted
over the hill In vain. And after a
while we met again, on the path.
"If that doesn't beat the devil!"
tho detective greeted me. He was
panting, and he swore softly be
tween his gasps. "Long, there's
plenty of things yet, about this case
that I don't know."
"Do you think that was Ahmad?"
"Couldn't have been. The Hindu
was in the house when we left But
there isn't any doubt but that he
committed the crime. I'm Bure of
that much, anyway. And now
there's nothing to do but go down
and find that stone that the colored
man told us about"
We found the place where the
body had been found, and struck
off fifty yards directly to the left
The detective flashed his light
about He called out when he saw
the stone. It was the only white
rock In the vicinity, and it could
not be mistaken. He knelt quickly
beside It
Then he got up with a little snort
or disgust That colored man was
crazy. Nothing here but by the
Lord!" He scarcely breathed as he
rubbed his hand over the surface
of the rock. He bent until his eyes
were within a few inches of Its
rough face.
"What now?" I asked.
"Somebody's beat us to it, that's
all. This rock has Just been washed
off, "with water. Either there's an
other amateur detective around this
place cleaned off the clots to make
blood-tests or else the walls of that
old house have ears!"
"What' do you think?"
"What is there else to think but
that some one came down here and
destroyed the evidence?"
Freeman made a close examina
tion of the soil about the rock. The
man who had preceded us had left
one clew at least There was a
bare bit of soil just beside the stone
where no grass had grown, and in
it we found the clear, sharp imprint
of a man's heel.
'But it might be the track of the
colored man that told us about It,"
I suggested.
'And it might not be, too. If I
don't do anything else I ought to,
at least, observe who I'm talking
to, and all about him. That darky
was barefoot"
"Then it's the track of the man
we chased a moment ago?"
Of course. He d come up here,
just before we did. He either col
lected the evidence for some ama
teur experiments of his own, or,
what's more likely, destroyed it to
protect the murderer. But there's
something funny about this print"
He bent over it with his light "You
see it's perfectly clear a perfect
imprint Never saw a better.
Ground happens to be particularly
sticky, and there are no grass roots
to interfere. Probably the water
drained off the stone and softened
it in yesterday's rain. And the odd
thing about it is that the heel hasn't
any nails in it"
'A rubber heel, then?"
'Evidently but not the kind of
rubber heel you wear. Most of them
have some kind of non-skid devices.
This heel Is solid rubber."
He took a long-bladed hunting
knife from his pocket and with
Infinite care, cut the earth around
the imprint, and lifted It from the
ground. I thought It would crumble
at first But the soil itself had a
sticky quality, and some of the
grass roots around it helped to hold
the little cube of earth together.
' It isn t safe to leave It here," he
explained. "But I'll be lucky if I
get it to the house. And this, Dr.
Long, gives us something else to
think about"
We thought about It as we walk
ed back toward the house. And I
thought of many things else, par
ticularly those never-to-be-forgotten
words of the elder Southley:
'My daughter Is going to marry
Vilas Hayward," the old man had
said.
Her face had given no sign
whether or not he had spoken the
truth. In the seconds that followed,
It might have been that she glanced
at me. But she didn't hold the
glance long enough for me to tell
for sure. Her face as It had been
was still before my eyes; soft-lined,
shadow-eyed. And I was scornful
at my senseless optimism that I
even presumed to doubt but that her
father had spoken the truth that. I
was even fool enough to hope other
wise.
Of course she had loved Vilas
from the first. Nothing else mat
tered. She was the kind of woman,
whose love subjugated all other
things. Her kindness to me, the
gentleness with which she looked
and smiled, might have been simply
the expression of a sweet girlish
ness such as most men, some time
in their lives, are fortunate enough
to know. And again it might have
been contrivance, design, the pur
pose of which was hidden in the
Intricate web of the mystery. Per
haps unconsciously I was playing a
part In the drama of the old house,
and her relations with me were In
some mysterious way Involved.
Yet I couldn't bring myself to
question her motives. It was sim
ply impossible for me to accuse her
of actual craft
But in the test her true feelings
had stood forth. She had shown
where she really stood. The fact
that I was to leave the house In dis
grace meant nothing to her. Her
love had spread its wings above all
such things as tins. I had not mat
tered a grain of dust on the wln-
dowsill. Of course, I hadn't forgot
ten her hesitancy. Perhaps there
had been regrets Indecision but
the truth had come out in the end.
And it had come out again In the
little scene beside the marsh, when
I had been ready to leave the estate
with the coroner. It was not to be
forgotten that her Hps had told the
detective of my dispute with the
Haywards, bringing down upon me
a certain measure or suspicion.
I remembered how she and Vilas
Hayward had always been together.
And It only cost a laugh to remem
ber that I had attributed this fact
to the mysterious forces that were
at play in the old mansion, rather
than to her own wish. Her love
for him was evidently the most
passionate, intense kind, hardly to
be expected In the slender, appeal
ing girl. She showed this fact in
her willingness to sacrifice for him.
But why had she been ready to
kill him that night in the den? The
look in her eye as she leaned across
the table could not be mistaken.
Yet many times before, in the long
years of the world, women have
killed the men they loved. Condi
tions have arisen in which love It-
self was the power that pressed
back the finger against the pistol
trigger. It was not for any man to
say. The question went deep into
the mystery of a woman's heart
She had tried to kill him, and yet
she loved him. He brought sorrow
to her eyes; and yet it had made no
difference. It was seemingly a love
not to be measured. And I wished
that I could go beyond the dull,
strange reaches of the swamps, and
never return to Southley Downs
again.
"After all," I heard Inspector
Freeman saying, "I don't see why
I should worry about these things.
Such things as the tracks that the
niggers tell about in the road and
that chap who ran away from us
on the hill and all the rest of this
funny business. I've got my man,
and that's the only thing that mat
ters." I don't know how much he had
said that I had not heard. My
thoughts had been too busy.
"So you're sure of it, are you?"
"It's a clear case. Blood-stained
shirt ancient enmity above all
things, the fact that he's the one
man, except of course Hayward's
own son, that hasn't an alibi. He
went outdoors with him. Nothing
to it at all, Long."
We climbed the steps of the great
house, and parted in the hall. The
detective took the clod that held
the imprint up to his room to de
posit with the shirt He was to
meet me in the library immediately
after.
I waited a long time for him to
come. And when at last I heard
him on the stair, he walked as
slowly as a pall-bearer with a bier.
Every step was distinct and slow,
instead of the usual tap-tap of his
quick motions.
Then I saw him in the candle
light at the door of the library. And
never have I seen such bewilder
ment upon the face of a human
being.
'This is the damnedest house I
ever saw!" he cried.
He stalked into the room with
eyes wide and staring from sheer
amazement He sat down in a great
chair, and rocked himself back and
forth. And now and then he swore
gently, dazedly. I have seen the
same look, in my professional ex
perience, in the faces of men just
picked up alive after startling auto
mobile accidents.
"You look a trifle upset, inspec
tor," I said. "What's the matter
now?"
He turned slowly, still numbed
and dazed. "I say the damnedest!
No case I was ever in had quite
the devilish, upsetting, aggravating
features that this one has. When
I started to put away that clod that
held the footprint, I opened the
drawer where I had put the stained
shirt"
"Yes."
"Somebody had unlocked the
drawer with a screw-driver."
'And the shirt was gone?"
'Gone nothing! Some one had
just torn a solid square foot out of
the front part of the shirt-tail. And
it dazed me so that I dropped the
clod."
The moon that night cast eery
squares of light on the floors. The
orchestra of the marshes started up
again the call of birds, the noise
of insects, the rustling of branches,
all deeply remote and hushed. In
the daytime the occupants of the
manor-house had all been ordinary,
sensible Aryans, not afraid to look
in a dark corner. In the night you
could see a different expression on
their faces.
I kept remembering the strange
legend of the tiger. Then I thought
of Ahmad Das, and the theory of
reincarnation; and finally came
around to the memory of those two
curious scratches on the face of the
dead man. Again and again I had
that same cycle of thought
I had the drawing-room to my
self, except for the younger South-
ley. The detective was at work in
his room. Southley himself had
gone Into the den: whether he had
come out again I did not know.
The negroes had retired to their
cabins, as usual in the latter part
of the evening. Vilas was in the
library, trying to read.
I don't think he was having any
too good success. The last two days
had made stupendous changes in
Vilas. He had picked up two or
three little nervous habits, too, that
were particularly distressing to
watch. The mysterious death of his
father was of course the greatest
influence; and the ever-present
menace, the shadow and the dark
ness, had stretched his nerves al
most to the breaking point
I had noticed a curious thing, as
evening drew on. It seemed to me
that the other occupants of the
house were avoiding Vilas. Per
haps it was just a coincidence; yet
the thing had happened three or
four times. From eight to ten he
had spent most of his time roving
from one room to another. Who
ever was in the room when he came
greeted him courteously enough,
but soon had business elsewhere. I
saw It work out with not only
Southley, but his daughter as well.
Of course there were reasons; but
I couldn't even get a glimpse at
thorn. I imagined that Vilas would
not have cared to be alone in the
library at that moment, If there had
been any other choice. From time
to time he summoned the servants,
seemingly for the most trivial serv
ices. About cloven I walked out onto
the grounds, mostly because the at
mosphere of the house had begun
to strangle me. I wanted fresh air,
the wind blowing off the water, the
light of a friendly moon In the sky.
Of course the tragedy of the night
before had occurred outside the
house, on the very hill on which I
stood, but there remained the feel
ing that the crime had its root and
source and causes in the house It
self. But the moonlit hillside was
n't much of a relief. What wind
there was brought curious smells
from the marsh. The moon looked
wan and pale and strange.
There was a light In the power
housea little building at the rear
of the manor-house that contained
the engine that had previously gen
erated electric light for the house.
Hoping for a friendly word from
some mellow, African voice, I
walked around to It The workmen
were busy at the plant trying to re
pair tne break.
But the workmen weren't colored
people after all. They were bend
ing over the engine when I first
approached the door, and I couldn't
see their faces. They didn't hear
me coming in the soft grass, and
they seemed very intent Then
they started up as my foot grated
on the threshold.
One of them was the elder South
ley. The other was the lean, be-
whiskered old man who had brought
the boat Robin, he called himself.
I noticed just one impressive thing
about him. He wore rubber boots.
He was the only man on the plan
tation, as far as I knew, that did.
They were little, ankle-length,
quaint affairs; and I was amazed
at my own stupidity that I had not
remembered the fact before. I had
noticed the boots the minute he had
stepped from the motor boat They
had plain rubber heels, such as had
made the track we had found on the
hillside, beside the white stone. Be
yond all doubt or question; he had
been the man we had chased just
after nightfall.
My eyes leaped over him. He
had long legs--the kind that could
stride swiftly. He was agile, too.
"Howdy, sir," he greeted me.
"Would you like a job?"
Southley looked up with a smile.
"We're trying to get these lights
so they'll work," he explained. "I'm
getting tired of candle-light I don't
suppose you know anything about
electric generators."
"I knew quite a bit about them
when I had the engineering bug
in college," I confessed. "I might
be able to help you."
Then I had a curious impression.
It seemed to me that a swift ex
pression of apprehension and dis
may flashed ocross my host's face.
It wasn't in the least distinct And
it was so senseless a thing I con
cluded I had been mistaken. Robin
looked up, too, somewhat quizzi
cally. "I can fix the thing," he said hur
riedly, "and, besides, I need the
job."
'I guess he can do well enough,"
Southley agreed.
When you build, we are
ready to serve you
WEN you build It is always a comforting
W thing to know that the building materials
you buy are going to be up to specifications.
Cheap, flimsy construction usually goes
hand in hand with poor quality materials.
Safeguard your building by letting us know
what you require and we will work with you
to see that your interests are well protected.
We are headquarters for all dependable
building materials and can also help you select
a good, reliable contractor;
Tell us what you plan to do-we can and
will give you helpful advice. .:C-".:
TUM-A-LUM LUMBER
COMPANY
Yards at Heppner, Lexington and lone
Saving Doesn't Mean
Being "Tight"
Nor does saving mean niggardliness about money matters.
Saving simply means that you are buying success on the
time payment plan. It simply means that you are planning
intelligently to get the things you want, when yuo want
them and as you want them.
That answers the question of "Why save, after all?" But
here are further answers to that question. A cash reserve .
gives you greater resourcefulness. It gives you the advant
age of being able to purchase wisely. The opportunity to
make valuable strategic moves in business in making In
vestments. The feeling of greater confidence in every
thing you do that puts new power Into your efforts.
Come In and talk it over. We'll be glad to have you and
you'll find the visit profitable.
Farmers & Stockgrowers National
Heppner $ailk Oregon
But I couldn't resist the Impulse
to make a cursory examination of
the generator. Perhaps it was love
of the engine. Perhaps it was that
Irresistible human Impulse to tin
kerand more than that to exhibit
knowledge. At first I found It diffi
cult to believe that the plant was
really severely damaged. It looked
in the most perfect condition. But
Southley called me away In a mo
ment and invited me to walk back
with him to the manor-house.
Inspector Freeman would have
been dismayed If he had known my
thoughts as Southley and I went
back to the drawing-room. For be
fore another hour had passed, there
was to be further amateur Inter
ference in the working out of the
Southley mystery. Even while I
chatted with my host, I was plan
ning the best means to get back to
the power-house. I was going to
keep a close watch on that garru
lous, long - legged longshoreman,
Robin.
(Continued Next Week.)
WHEAT YIELDING HELL.
Harvest Is now getting quite gen
erally under way In the Lexington
section, and from early reports
coming in the yield in many fields
will be good. On Saturday, Earl
Warner made a run with a station
eary, threshing out 500 sacks. This
is in his field of fortyfold, and the
estimate now made is that the run
for the field will be 35 bushels to
the acre. Other fields adjoining Mr.
Warner will also yield heavily, and
the grain is of excellent quality.
In the lone country many machines
are now In the fields and the har
vest will be on there quite gener
ally this week. Similar reports of
good yields for that part of the
county are coming in, and yet it
would seem that the estimates giv
en in this paper a few weeks ago
will be fully realized, if not exceed
ed. It is safe to say, at any rate,
that Morrow county will have bet
ter than an average yield of wheat
this season.
Peerless Feed Grinder
No Burrs or Knives to give trou
ble. Will grind anything you
can crack with a hammer. Will
elevate its proddct 25 feet
A number of G'lliam and Morrow
county farmers have invested in
this efficient farm feed grinder.
It's the machine for you.
See or Write for Demonstration
R, E. DUNCAN
CECIL, OREGOK