THE GIRL WITH
A MILLION
By D. C Murray
CHAPTER XX. (Continued.)
The widow with her tear-stained face
.tnd crumpled dress, and her hair wildly
disarranged, ran out of the room, skim
med downstairs like a swallow, opened
the street door with her own hands, and
left it wide behind her. The coachman
jumped down, but she was at the carriage
door before him, and he stared at the
wild disorder In which she appeared.
"The Palace Hotel," she said. "Quick
ly. Go as Quickly as you can."
She was taken at once to Angela's
apartments.
"Oh, Julia," Angela began, "how kind
of you to come so soon. We only reach
d town yesterday."
"Read that !" said Julia, In a voice so
lharsh and strange that It surprised her
self. Angela took the -wet and twisted letter
frora her outstretched hand.
"Julia ! You are ill. You are in trou
ble. You are crying. What is, the mat
ter?'; She hastened toward her friend, who
repulsed her and said: "Read that!"
again in the same strange voice.
Angela skimmed the letter as a bird
skims water, and arose to her feet.
"Angela Butler," said the little widow,
"did you have that sent to me?"
"No," said Angel "How dare you
think such a thing of me? How could
jou think it?"
"Who sent It?" she sobbed. "Who
dared to send it?" Angela's mind was
darting this way and that in swift in
quiry ; but she knew too little of the pat
riot and his affairs to find the faintest
clew to an answer. , . Who could have
indwn enough to write the letter? Lucy
Parley, Maskelyne and O'Rourke himself
-these were all. It flashed across her
suddenly that O'Rourke had possibly
boasted of his own insolence. Men, did
uch things she had read of them. Even
to the confused mind of the sufferer An
gela's passionate start at this fancy
meant no less than discovery. ,
"He is a wretch !" cried Angela.
"Who? Who is a wretch?" demanded
the little' widow, with appealing hands.
Angela began to cry with her friend, and
fell to kissing and mourning over her.
"Qh," cried Mrs. Spry, wringing her
hands and weeping all the more -for these
demonstrations of sympathy, "who who
Is a wretch?"
"He Is a wicked, bad, unprincipled
man," said Angela. "Oh, my dear ; I am
so sorry. I saw that you were beginning
. MnA tn- him hut- T nniiM not- WArn
you. Why are we so tongue-tied when
we see things going wrong?"
"Angela," said Mrs. Spry, gulplngly,
"how dare you say so? I'm sure he's
the best and noblest of men."
"He's the basest and most dishonorable
of men !" cried Angela, stung by her new
suspicion of him,1 which, following on her
-old certainties, made her feel altogether
.merciless.
"Angela," said the widow, clinging to
Tier and looking at her imploringly, "did
lie make love to you before he met me?"
""Only a few days before," Angela an
swered. "And he knew then that George
- that Mr. Maskelyne He professed
to be Mr. Maskelyne's dearest friend. I
fcated him from the first-
"I don't believe it!" said Mrs. Spry,
withdrawing her clinging hands and be
taking herself to walking up and down
the room. "You wanted him for your
self. You know you did."
3 "You are very grieved, I know, dear,"
said Angela, "or you would' never think
or say such things. I did not want him
for myself. You know that Mr. Maske
lyne and I are going to be married? I
loved him long before he came over to
Belgium to visit us. I should never have
married another man if he had never
spoken to me. But Mr. O'Rourke heard
that I had money- and he tried to come
between us and to separate us. If he had
not done that, I might have liked him
very well. But he succeeded for awhile,
and made us both very unhappy. Then
, he met you, dear, and found that you
bad more money than L and soh pre
tended to fall in love with you the mer
cenary wretch !, Then he boasted I can
see it all to some man friend ,of Hhis
about his impertinence to me, and I am
made to seem as If he had thrown me
away like an old glove. He is a base,
unworthy creature, Julia. Throw him
way. Be brave and, forget him."
This was one of those thigs which are
much easier to advise than to do. But
.Angela since her engagement had learned
from her lover most that was ,to be
Inown from him, and she tried to
strengthen her friend's mind with it to
such effect that at length she drew frora
'her a declaration that she would see
O'Rourke no more. When she had
achieved this triumph, she took pen, ink
. and paper andwrote this" note, whilst
Mrs. Spry still lay dissolved In grief on
the sofa.
"Sir Oblige me by reading the Inclos-
d. Should you desire to answer It you
may do so In person. I am staying with
Miss Butler, and you may meet us to-
. gether at any time it may suit you to
:Rtrooint." f
After a prolonged effort she succeeded
1 , m i rwl I ii i nrAnm frt tnrtv thta anil
AU ftisuautu)i Hi VJ ntuun kw vftV V"" uui
to address it to O'Rourke, accompanied
bv the Fraser letter. This feat accom
plished, the poor thing was got to bed.
and after a weary while to sleep. An
gela rejoiced In this victory for Mrs.
Spry', own sake, and held her saved from
cut most isrnoie oi
CHAPTER XXI.
Mrs. Spry and Angela were sitting to
gether when O'Rourke's hastily penciled
card arrk-ed. Mrs. Spry tore open the
envelope and uttered a little cry.
He is here," she said, tremulously.
He Is waiting." Her shaking hand
pressed the card upon Angela.
"I will wait until you are ready to
see me, she tead. i nave a rignt to
clear myself. It will be best to speak in
Miss Butler's presence.
"Oh, he is innocent !" cried the widow.
"Julia," said Angela, with tender anx
iety, "he Is not innocent. He has come
to take advantage of your weakness. We
will admit him, and hear what he has to
say.
O'Rourke was shown Into the room, ne
as pale, but his manner was under
perfect, control. He made no attempt
to approach Mrs. Spry, but, having closed
the door, bowed, and, advancing to the
center of the room, laid both hands on
the rail of a chair, which he held fllmly.
He looked then at Angela, and his brows
contracted ever so little as if in inquiry.
He was playing to look as if he asked
himself what had Induced her to adopt
role so extraordinary as the one she
had taken up, and his trained sense of
humbug came so to his aid that he asked
himself that question unfalteringly. Next
he looked at the widow, and his glance
was full of appeal. Neither of the women
spoke a word, but Angela, with her eyes
fixed upon O'Rourke, reached out a hand
sideways, and took her friend by the
wrist, sliding her hand downward until
the fingers of both were Interlaced. '
"I have received a letter from you,
Julia," O'Rourke began, "containing an
inclosure in the handwriting of a bitter
enemy of mine, a political rival, who is
enraged at his own want of success. I
am here to tell you that that letter con
tains one innuendo which is based on
truth, and only one. I am Indebted
to your friend, Mr. Maskelyne. Apart
from that one truth I deny every state
ment the letter contains."
Then he paused, looking from one to
the other of his auditors. Mrs. Spry
drew her hand from her companion's, and
half arose, but Angela checked her.
"I begin to see, sir, that I have made
mistake," she' said. "I fancied 1 you
would not dare to come here. I have
read the letter you speak of." She could
go no further.
I supposed," returned O'Rourke,
from the note which accompanied it
that you had dqne so. I supposed, also,
that you support its statements. I do
not know how you have,allowed yourself
to be persuaded of the truth of those
statements, but I declare them, on the
faith of an honest man, to be without
foundation."
"Angela!" cried Mrs. Spry, "I knew
it. I was sure of it. It's all a mis
take!"
"Thank you, Julia !" cried the patriot ;
thank you."
At this Angela took unexpected Are,
and rising to her feet in sudden self-
possession, faced the patriot with flushed
cheeks and glittering eyes.
"I do not rely upon much from you,
Mr. O'Rourke, upon which I might count
with safety from most men. But I will
ask you a question or two, if yon will be
so kind as to answer them."
I will answer any question you may
ask me, Miss Butler," he answered, in
clinlng his head with grave courtesy, ,
"Forgive me if I hurt you, dear," said
Angela, swiftly turning to her friend.
"You did not know, Mr. O'Rourke, that
my friend Mrs. Spry was wealthy until
she herself told you so?" " t
"I knew that she was well-to-do," re
turned O'Rourke, "but I did not know
that she was wealthy. You will remem
ber, Julia, that your statement took me
by surprise."
"You did not suppose her fortune to
be greater than-it reajly is?"
"I certainly did not," said 0 Rourke,
Ho actually smiled at-this, as if the
thought amused him. .
Angela tang the bell and sent for Mas
kelyne, who was In the hotel. When he
came Angelo told him of what had occur
red, and he at once told of his conversa
tion with O'Rourke about Mrs. Spry's
riches.
"It's a He," said O'Rourke, "Fraser
and I have quarreled, and he has Invent
ed this story to damage me with you and
with my friends." ,
The widow suddenly fell on her knees
and threw up her bead with shriek on
shriek of laughter. Maskelyne raised
her, and rang the bell for assistance.
O'Rourke stood staring at the pair, as
much lost for .the moment as if the whole
world had tumbled in ruins about bis
ears. A waiter knocked at the door and
entered. 1
"Send a female servant here, and run
for a doctor," Angela called to him. Mrs.
Spry's wild laughter ran through the
house. A chambermaid looked in at the
open door and ran to her assistance. A
dozen people were In the corridor, star
ing with frightened faces. ,
O'Rourke still retained a grain of his
customary self-governmefct. He walked
down the corridor and out of the hotel,
Ills cabman hailed him, and he threw him
half a crown and strode toward his cham
bers, desperate, and half beside himself
with rage. His chambers reached, he
entered his bedroom without a word, and,
locking the door, sat down to think. His
thoughts were too terrible to be endured
without motion, and In a little time ha
began to pace wildly up and down. Now
and then he groaned aloud.
It was dark, and O'Rourke was sun
raging up and down his bedroom, when
the maid brought up a note and knocked
at the door.
What's the matter?" he asked, un
locking the door and thrusting a pale
face into the light of the adjoining room.
A note, sir," suid the girl, "inarkea
Immediate.' "
He took it and tore It opon with a pas
sionate eagerness. It was from Dob
roskl, and askod hlra to call upon the
morrow. He cursed Dobroskl, for his
usual suavity and solf-coutrol had alto
gether deserted him. Then, clinching
the note In his band, he slammed the
door and locked it, and fell to pacing up
and down again.
CHAPTER XXII.
At first he had resolved that he would
not take any notice of Dobroski's invi
tation. Nothing seemed to matter any
longer. Things were going to the bad all
round, and he was In a mood to welcome
and even to hasten the final crash. But
in a little time his desperation took an
other turn, and he felt fit to join in the
maddest enterprise the old anarchist might
unfold before him. In this mood he set
out, and In this mood he reached Dob
roskl, who welcomed him with an air
and manner of almost fatherly affection.
"I have asked you to call this morn
ing," he said, "for an important reason.
I have received an offer of a hundred
thousand stand of arms on terms which
are not likely to be secured again. The
present political lull deceives the vend
ers, who think that no chance of sale Is
likely to occur to them for some time.
The arms are stored in New York, and
can be delivered at any time in Ireland.
We are not fit to use them yet, but tho
opportunity is one that may never occur
again. This," he went on, taking op a
leather case and unstrapping It as he
talked, "is a specimen. The rifle Is the
Berdan, and was made for the use of the
Russian troops during the Russo-Turklsh
war. An admirable weapon, little iiaoie
to get out of order, even with unskillful
usage. There are two million cartridges
to be bad also. I will, show you the
contract, and you will see how very easy
the terms are made. It may be a year or
two before We can venture to strike It
may be even three or four years but It
will be well to be In readiness.
Don't bid for the ammunition," said
O'Rourke. "For my own part I never
shoot With last year's,, cartridges ; and to
take stuff for war that one wouldn't use
even in sport is the sort of thing that
only governments are guilty of. Let the
enemy do that, but let us have our am
munition new. We can order It when we
want 1 it And that," he added to him
self, "won't be In your lifetime, or mine,
old gentleman."
"That is wise," said DobroskL march
ing up and down the room with his hands
behind him. "That is sensible and prac
tical. We, want practical hands for this
kind of work. A valuable suggestion."
He smiled upon O'Rourke like a father
commanding a son. The smile was so
soft, benevolent and gentle that the pat
riot wondered at it a little.
"Let us understand each other com
pletely," said O'Rourke, who, desperate
as he had felt' himself to be an hour ago,
began to grow cautious again now that
he came face to face with an actual en
terprise. "These- arms whep purchased
must on no account be introduced into
Ireland until they are actually, to be
used. The stroke, when It comes, must
be bold, swift and unexpected. There
must be no sparring beforehand, to put
the enemy upon his guard.
"We are as one about that matter,"
returned Dobroskl. "You are a little
earlier than I expected you. I named
an hour for you, but in a note which I
dispatched later I suggested an hour be
fore noon to my good friend Wroblew
skoff, and to Mr. Frost, who will ac
company him. When they arrive we can
discuss business formally., . They will be
here almost directly." y
Almost as he spoke there came a knock
at the door, and a minute later the maid
of the house brought in a card.
"Show the gentleman this way," said
Dobroskl, when be had glanced at it "I
have a call from your old friend Mr,
Farley. It will be but an affair of a few
minutes." He rose to meet his visitor,
and received him cordially. "You had my
note? That is well. I have your old
friend Mr. O'Rourke here." The old
friends bowed like old enemies, and Dob
roskl looked from one to the other in
some confusion. "Ha I" he said, to cover
his momentary awkwardness. "The child
How do you do, little sir? .We are oia
acauaint&nces. you and 1. Will you
shake hands? The brave little man. Sit
here a while, dear little one."
O'Rourke bad turned his back upon
host and guest, and was staring out of the
window. Farley was pulling at his mus
tache and holding himself with unusual
erectness. Dobroskl looked uneasily at
either of them.
"Will vou walk this way, sir?" he said,
addressing Farley. The novelist bowed
somewhat stiffly and followed him to the
next room, which was evidently the old
man's workshop.
Having reclosed the door, and taking
a heap of manuscripts from one of the
drawers of the table, he sat down and be
gan to talk In so picturesque and animat
ed 4 fashion that Farley forgot all about
the treacherous old friend and new ene-
mv In the next room. Neither noticed
new summons at the street door, or heard
voices in the next room. , .
"Mr. Dobroskl is engaged for the mo
ment," said, O'Rourke, when Frost and
the good WrebiewsKOK came m logewier.
' (To be continued, i
"Motoring Is now so popular iri tho
British "navy that some officers carry
their cars afloat with them. 4 The Auto
car says Lcw,d Charles Beresford la one
of them.
RE810..KING THE RANUtS.
8erloui Problem at Viewed by State
Veterinarian of Washington.
Poring the I'HBt lew weeks Dr. S. B.
elson. state Veterinarian of Washing
ton has awnt eonHiilorable time in
Walla Walla, Columbia, Unrlield ana
Asotin counties, examining many
bands of sheep that are kept in those
counties, as to their general health,
1th particular reference to ".scab."
Recently, in discussing things of in
terest he had observed in going from
one sheep camp to another, Dr. Nelson
came to the problem of "restocking
the ranges," which Is now bo absorb
ing to stockmen.
'One of the serious problems now
confronting the stockmen of tbia state
is the question of restocking the ranges
with the original bunch grass," he
said. "Old settlers tell ua that when
they came here forty years ago, the
bunch grass was frora two to three feet
ta!!. and very heavy. Tho promiscu
ous grazing of the stock over the ranges
has put them in their present bare, or
semi-bare, condition The reclaiming
of these vast tracts of grazing land is a
problem to which the agricultural de
partments of various institutions nave
given a great deal of attention,
"Some seven or eight years ago i
ode over these same ranges and found
the bunch graes practically all gone in
many places. This condition could
be observed for miles and miles as the
ranges were . ridden over. Recently I
was very much astonished is passing
through these same regions to find that
thousands of acres had been fenced,
while equally laige tracts were not
fenced, but were held as summer range
by sheepmen who practically controlled
them. I observed that those ranges,
bate several years ago, were, at the
time of my visit, covered with a luxur
iant growth of bunch grass, standing
frora eighteen to thirty inches high. In
places the grass was bo heavy that it
could not be mowed for hay. I was
also much surprised to see that In
flaoe that had been protected for a
ess number of years, the heavy bunches
of grass were scattered, and between
the big bunches, bunches from two to
three years old were well started. It
was very easy to pick out a bunch of
two-year-old grass from among a num
ber of the older bunches. In looking
into theis question I discovered how it
was that these ranges had been re
stocked. The sheep are kept on these winter
ranges from the time they come out of
the mountains in the fall, during Sep
tember and early October, until after
lambing, and a short time the follow
icg spring. Early in the spring the
sheep eat the young, tender bunch
grass, but the sheep are well scattered
a good herder nearly always keeps his
sheep scattered) the bunch grass as it
gets older becomes tougher, and the
sheep do not like it so well. By the
latter pan of April and early in May,
the sheep prefer the many weeds, espe
cially sunflowers, never touching bunch
grass at all. Many, many times dur
ing my trips through these counties, I
saw bands of from fifteen to twenty-
five hundred sheep grazing In bunch
grass from one foot to eighteen inches
high and never touching it. They were
picking out the little weeds in between
the bunches of grass, and wherever
there were areas of sunflowers, they
would eat the flowers perfectly clean
wherever they went.
"From the first to the fifteenth of
June the sheep are taken into the
mountains and kept until the latter
Dart of September. Now when the
sheen are brought back in September,
the buncb grass has seeded, tne seed
being scattered over the ground. ,The
fall rains seem to soften the bunch
grass, making it tender so that the
sheep eat it greedily. In this way, by
eating tne eariy snoots ueiure me giaou
.. ... , ' i i j i. i
goes to seed, and then eating una ma
ture, semi-cured grass after it has gone
to seed, the seed is saved on the ground
and resown, and the stand of bunch
grass is continually increased.
"Ihls has demonstrated to me very
strongly, that if men owning large
areas of grazing land' expect to keep
their ranges up to the present stand
ard, or even increase the stand of
bunch grass, that they must of neces
slty protect the bunch grass at least
every other year during its seeding
time; that is, from the time the seed
begins to form until the mature seeds
are shattered on the ground. I am
convinced that the problem of restock
ing the ranges may to a very large ex
tent be solved by fencing the grazing
lands, and; at intervals, resting them.'
WRITES OF OREGON.
Sidelights on Beaver State by Pro
feasor of Cornell.
In his recent book on "How to
ChooBe a Farm, With a Discussion of
American Lands," Profeesor Thomas F
Hunt, of Cornell university, devotes
several complimentary paragraphs t to
farming conditions of the Pacifio North
west and to the resoviercs Of Oregon in
particular. Professor Hunt accompa
nies his descriptions with tables of sta
tistics which throw several interesting
sidelights on the conditions existing in
the Beaver State.
"This region is characterized by its
immense forest resources, its fishing
industries, and the high production of
wheat by dry farming in the eastern
part of Washington and along the Co-
lumbiu river in Oregon," writes fro
fessor Hunt of Oregon, Washington
and Idaho. "One-third of the area is
covered by forests of immense oommer-
lal value, while at least one-fifth more
la covered by trees of less Importance.
In Western Oregon and Washington ,
are to be found millions of acres of the
densest forests, with ooniforous trees of
great height, and large diameters, of
hich the Douglas nr and the rod cedar
are perhaps the most important, it
not uncommon for five acres of land .
to cut a million feet of lumber. .
"Wheat and hay constitute about
one-third the value of all crops. While
general farming Is somewhat more de
veloped than In the Rocky Mountain
states, the grazing of livestock is still
one of the principal industries. Cer
tain areas In Oregon, Washington and
California furnish Ideal conditions of
soil and climate for tho production of
hops. These three states produce two
thirds of the product of the United
States. .
"The Cascade mountains divide this
region, climatically and agriculturally,
into two parts. Between the Cascade
mountains and the Coast range are fer
tile, well-watered valleys, already
thickly populated. Upon the western
coast, owing to the Japan current, the
temperature is the most equable in
North America. The olimate is more
ke England than that of any other
part of the United States.
The soils are mostly of a volcanlo
origin and are unusually fertile and en
during. The prairies consist of an ex
panse of rolling hills. The layout of
the farms and genera) aspect ol the
improvements are similar to those in
the newer portions of the North Cen
tral states. The people are mostly
ative-born Americans from the older
settled states. There is a general air
of hopefulness and prosperity among;
them.
"There are still 30,000,000 acres of
unappropriated and unreserved public.
lands ready for entry In this region.
While some of this Is forest land and
some is arid, this region probably con
tains tne Dean large Doay oi puonc yet
open for settlement in tne united
States."'
Oregon. Washington and Idaho are
credited with about 90,000 farms. The
area in farms Is about 25,000,000
acres, the improved area being about
9,000,000 acres for the three states.
The average size of the farms is a trifle
over 250 acres, and the average size of
improved farms is nearly 100 acres.
The state of Oregon alone has about
11,000,000 acres of land in farms and
ranches, which is estimated to be worth
about f 15 per acre.
EXPERIMENTS WITH HYBRIDS,
Pullman Station Develops New Vari
eties of Wheat.
The Washington State college exper
iment station at Pullman has brought.
line of experiments with Little Club
and White Track wheat to a point
where definite statements concerning
results can be given. ' These hybridiza
tion experiments were begun in 1899
by Professor E, E. Elliott. One long
headed variety which Is now growing
in the eighth generation produces more
straw than any ether hybrid heretofore
grown on the station farm. Because of
this and that it will withstand cold
nearly as well as Jones' Fife, the sta
tion staff bblieves it will be well adapt
ed to the dry section included in the
greater portion of the Big Bend country.
A length of six inches and 100 grains
to the bead is not unusual in this
variety.
Another hybrid is remarkable for the
stiffness of the straw. On the farm a
plot of Red Russian and Arcadian were
cut to the ground by squirrels, while
the hybrid variety was left uninjured.
The stem grows too short to be suitable
for dry land, but it is the most stable
variety yet produced and in several in
stances produced 00 bushels per acre.
A Ions stem hvbrld has the necull-
arity of growing with surprising uni
formity of height, and the staff say this
wheat should be well adapted to thresh
ing with a combined harvester. The
evenness in length, and' the fact that
it shatters but little, makes it one of
the most desirable hybrids brought out
on the college farm,.
EXCELLENT COAL PROSPECTS.
Much Interest Aroused In Deposits
s Around Ashland.
The recent work in developing the
various coal prospects found in the vi
cinity of Ashland, Oregon, has met
with so much success and has attracted
such widespread attention that it prom
ises to insure sufficient perseverance in
work along this line to determine the
real extent of the coal deposits which,
beyond doubt, exist in this section.
There is no question about the coal be
ing found and the quality of it, but
there are skeptics as to the extent of
the deposits. The scarcity and high
prioe of wood for fuel has prompted and
encouraged the coal , prospecting to a
large extent, and the opening .up of
coal beds of ample extent would be a
welcome solution of the fuel problem,
which is a serious one and promises to
be more serious before another winter
is over. The inability to secure wood
choppers during the past year or two
has greatly curtailed the wood output
and has resuited in soaring prices.
I 1
The British soldier Is 'now to possess
three shirts' Instead of two.