0. R. & N. CO
E. McNEILL, Receiver.
TO THE
EAST
GIVES THE CHOICE OF
TWO TRANSCONTINENTAL
ROUTES
wrwiior " the maa T in SLAcn.“
“ a gentleman
of fiance
CUPYSiaHT 1895 BY CASSEtLPuBUSHINC CO.. AIX RlSHTi RESERVE!)
We are likely to pay dearly for that, so
we may think tbe more of it. We have
been tbe means of punishing a villain.”
"Yes,” I said, ‘ that is true. It was a
strange meeting aud a etrange recognition.
Strangest of all that I should be called
DENVER up to swear with him.”
SPOKANE
“Not strange,” Master Bertie answered
OMAHA gravely.
I would rather call It provi­
Minneapolis
dential. Let us think of that and be of
AND
ANO
better courage, friend. We have been
ST. PAUL KANSAS CY used; we shall not be cast away before our
time.”
1 looked back. For some minutes I had
LOW 3ATES TO ALL
thought I heard behind us a light footstep
EASTERN CITIE8.
more like the pattering of a dog than any­
thing else. I could see nothing, but that
‘
OCEAN STEAMERS
was not wonderful, for the moon was
Leave Portland Every 3 Days young and the sky overcast. “Do you
hear some one following us?” I said.
• • FOR • •
Master Bertie drew rein suddenly, and
turning in the saddlo wo listened, For a
second I thought I still heard the sound.
The next it ceased and only tbe wind toy­
For fbll details call on
ing with tho November leaves and sigh­
ing away in the distance came to our ears
C. A. WALLACE, McMinnville, Or.
“No,” he said, “I think it must have been
Or Address:
your fancy. I hear nothing.”
W. II llrRl.BIKT,
But when we rode on the sound began
Gen. Pass Agt.
again, though at first more faintly, as it
POHTL 15I>, OK.
our follower had learned prudence aud
fallen farther behind. ‘ Do not stop, but
EAST AND SOUTH listen!” I said softly. “Cannot you bear
the pattering of a naked foot now?”
VIA
"I hear something,” be answered, “I
am afraid you are right and that we are
followed. ”
“What is to be done?” I said, my
OF THE
thoughts busy.
“There is Caen wood in front,” be an­
swered, “with a little open ground on
lUBitii 3 anVMiV I »MUS
this Bide of it. We will ride under tbe
Express frame Leave Portland Daily
trees and then stop suddenly. Perhaps
we shall be able to distinguish him as be
crosses the open behind us.” We made
LEAVE
ARRIVE
Portland....... .850 P M | San Francisco .10:45 A M the exporiment, but as if our follower had
6cn Franclsco.fioO P M I Portland ........ 8:lu AM divined tbe plan his footstep ceased to
sound before we bad stopped our horses.
Above trains stop at Fast Portland, Oregon City, He had fallen farther behind. "Wemight
Woodburn, Salem. Turner. Marion. Jefferson,
Albany.Albauyjunetlon Tangent.Shedds, Halsey, ride quickly back,” I suggested, "and sur­
Harrisburg. Junction City. Irving, Eugene, Cres­ prise him.”
well, Drains and all stations from Roseburg to
“It would be useless,” Bertie answered.
Ashland inclusive.
“There is too much cover close to tho road.
Hoseburg Jlail Daily.
Let us rather trot on and outstrip him.”
LEAVE
ARRIVE:
We did trot on, and what with the
Portland........ 8:80 A M I Roseburg
.5 20 PM
Roseburg....... 8:00 AM I Portland....... 4 40 PM
tramp of our horses as they swung along
the read and the sharp passage of the
Salem Passenger Dally.
wind by our ears we heard no more of the
LEAVE
ARRIVE
footstep behind. But when we presently
Portland
4.00P M I Salem. .......... 6.15 P
Salem.............. 8 00 A M I Portland
10:15 A M pulled up to breathe our horses—or rather
within a few minutes of our doing so—
there it was behind us nearer and louder
DINING GARS ON OGDEN ROUTE.
than before. I shivered as I listened, and
presently, acting on a sudden impulse,
PULLMHN* BUFFET
I wheeled my horse round and spurred
him back a dozen paces along the road.
SLEEPERS
I pulled up.
«NO
There was a movement in tbe shadow
SECOND CLASS SLEEPING CARS of the trees on my right, and I leaned for­
ward, peering in that direction. Gradual­
Attached to all Through Trains.
ly I made out the lines of a figure stand­
.West Side Division.
ing still, as though gazing at me—a
BETWEEN PORTLAND AND CORVALLIS strange, distorted figure, crooked, short
Mail Train Daily, (Except Sunday.) and in some way, though no lineament of
tbe face was visible, expressive of a
1tl> A M ' Lv
Portland
Ar I 5:40 P M strange and weird malevolence. It was tbe
10:15 A X Lv
McMinnville
Lv I 3:01 P M
12,15 P M , Ar
Co. valli»
Lv | 1:00 P M witch! Tbe witch whom I had seen in
the kitchen at the gatehouse. Hew, then,
At Albany and Corvallis connect with had she come hither? How had she, old,
trains of Or. Centra! A Eastern Ry
lame, decrepit, kept up with us?
I trembled as she raised her band, and
Express Train Daily, (Except Sunday.)
standing otherwise motionless pointed at
Portland
Ar s , 25 A M me out of the gloom. The horse under
üï YF m Lv
Lv 5 58 A M
7 5PM Lv
St. Joseph
7:.5 P M Ar
Lv 5 5J A M me was trembling, too—trembling violent­
McMinnville
ly, with its ears laid back, and as she
Through Tickets to all points in Eastern moved its terror increased, it plunged
States, Canada and Europe can be obtained a: wildly. I had to give for a moment all
lowest rates from G. A. Wilcox. Agent, McMinn­ my attention to it, and though I tried in
ville.
E. P. ROGERS,
mere revolt against the fear'which I felt
Asst. G. F. &P. A., Portland, Or.
was overcoming me to urge it nearer my
R KOEHLER, Manager.
efforts were vain. After neatly unseating
me tbe beast whirled round, aud getting
the better of me galloped down tho road
toward London.
CHURCHES
“What is it?” cried Master Bertie as I
B aptist —Services Sunday 11 a.
_ m. and came speedily up with him. He had rid­
7:30p. m ; Sunday school9:50 a m.; thv den slowly on. “What is the matter?”
Prayer
young people’s sooiety 6:15 p m
“Something in tbe hedge startled it,” I
______
a Thursday
________ 7
___
meeting
:30 ,,
p. __
m. Covenam explained, trying to soothe the horse, “I
meeting first Sat each month 2:00 p. m.
oould not clearly see what It was.”
E. B. P ace , Pastor.
“A rabbit, I dare say,” he remarked,
M ethodist E piscopal —Services every deceived by my manner.
“Perhaps It was," I answered. 8ome
Sabbath 11:00 a. m. and 7:30 p. m. Sunday
school 9:30 a m. Prayer meeting 7:00 p Impulse, not unnatural, led me to say
m. Thursday.
J ohx U se t re, Pastor,
nothing about what I had seen. I was
C cmb . P resbyterian —Services every Sab­ not quite sure that my eyes had not de­
ridicule, too,
bath 11 .00 a m and 7:3C p. m. Sunday ceived me. I feared
school 9:30 a. m. Y. P. C.
Sunday 6:30 I though he was not very prone to ridicule.
p. m. Prayer meeting Thursday, 7:30 p. m. 1 And above all I shrank from explaining
E E. T hompson , Pastor.
the medley of superstitious tear, distrust
C hristian —Preaching at 11 a. m. and at and abhorrence in which I held the crea­
7 30 p. m on the first and third Sundays; ture who had shown so strange a knowl­
on the second and fourth Sundays at 7:30 edge of my life.
until further notice At Carlton on sec­
We were already near Holborn, and
ond and fourth Sundays at 11 a. in., and reaching without further adventure a
Saturday evening before at 7:30. At No. 8
at 3 p. in on se ond and fourth Sundays. modest Inn near tho Bars we retired to a
room we had engaged and lay down with
J ames C ampbell , V. D. JI.. Pastor
S t . J ames E piscopal C hurch —Lay-Ser­ none of tbo gallant hopes which had last
night formed the subject of our talk. Yet
vices every Sunday at 11 o’clock a. m.
S t . J ames C atholic —First st., between we slept well, for depression goes better
G and H. Sunday school 2:30 p. tn. Ves­ with sleep than does tbe tumult of antici­
pation, and I was up early and down In
pers 7:30. Services once a month.
the yard looking to the horses before Lon­
T. B riopt , Pastor
don was well awake. As I entered tbe
SECRET ORDERS.
stable a man lying curled up in the straw
K nowles C hapter No, 12, O. E. S—Meets a rolled lazily over, and shading his eyes
Masonic ball the first and third Monday evening glanced up. Apparently ho recognized
tn each month Visiting members cordially in­
me, for he got slowly to bis feet. “Morn­
vited.
C. H MCKINNEY, Sec.
MRS C. W. TALMAGE. W. M.
ing!” he said gruffly.
I stood staring at him, wondering if i
A. O. U. W.—Charity Lodge No. 7 meets first and
third Fridays of each month, 7:S0 p. m. Lodge had made a mistake.
room in Union block.
“What are you doing here, my man?” I
H. C. BURNS. M. W.
said sharply when I had made certain I
J. D BAKER, Becorder.
10
Yamhill Lodge No. 10 D. of H. meets in Union knew him, and that he was really the
ball second and fourth Friday evenings of each surly hostler from the Gatehouse tavern
month.
at Highgate. “Why did you come here?
C uster P ost N o . 9—Meets the second and fourth Why have you followed us?"
Saturday of each month in Union hall at 7:30
“Come about your business,” he an
p m. on second Saturday and at 10:30 a. m. on
4th Saturday. All members of the order are swered. “To give you that."
cordially Invited to attend our meetings.
I took the note be held out to me.
J. B. S tilwell , Commander.
"From whom?” I said. “Who sent it by
B. F C lcbini . Adjt.
you?”
W. C T. U.—Meets on every Fri­
"Cannot tell, ” he replied, shaking his
day at 3 p. m. in reading room, Union
bead.
block
C lara G E s son , Pres.
“Cannot or will not?” I retorted.
Jixxir G allixtixb , Sec’y
“Both,” he said doggedly. “But there!
If you want to know what sort of a kernel
is In a nut, you don’t shake the tree, mas­
ter—you crack the nut.”
I looked at the note he had given me.
It was but a slip of paper folded thrice.
The sender had not addressed or sealed or
fastened it In any way, bad taken no care
YAQUINA BAY ROUTE
either to insure its reaching its destination
Connecting at Taquina Bay with the San or to prevent prying eyes seeing the con­
Francisco and Yaquina Bay Steam­
tents. If one of our associates had sent it,
ship Company.
he had been guilty of the grossest careless­
ness. “You are sure it is for me?” I said.
“As sure as mortal can be,” he an­
STEAMSHIP “FARALLON”
swered. “Only that it was given me for a
Al, and first-class in every respect. man, and not a mouse! You are not
Sails from Yaquina for San Francisco afraid, master?”
I was not, but he edged away as he
about every eight days. Passenger ac­
commodations unsurpassed
Shortest spoke and looked with so much alarm at
route between the Willamette valley and the scrap of paper that it was abundantly
clear he was very much afraid himself,
California.
Fare from Albany or points west to even while he derided me. I saw that if I
had offered to return the note be would
San Francisco:
have backed out of the stable and gone off
Cabin. .................................... 112.00
there and then as fast as bis lame foot
Steerage.................................. 8.00
would let him. This puzzled me. How­
ever, I read the note. There was nothing
Cabin, round trip, good 60 days 18.00
in it to frighten me. Yet, as I read, the
For sailing dates apply to,
color came into my face, for it contained
H. L. WALDEN.
one name to which I had long been a stran­
Agent, Albany, Or. ger.
EDWIN STONE, Manager,
“To Francis Cludde,” It ran. “If yod
Corvallis, Or.
would not do a thing of which you will
CHAS. CLARK, Sunt.. Corvallis, Or. miserably repent all your life, and which
will stain you in the eyes of all Christian
“It is the beet patent medicine in the men, meet me two hours before noon at
world” is what Mr. E. M. Hartman, ci the cross street by St. Botolph’s, where
Marquam, Oregon, says of Chamberlain’s you first saw Mistress Bertram. And tell
no one. Fail not to come. In heaven’s
Colic. Cholera and Diarrhoea Remedy.
name, fail not!".
"What leads me to make this assertion
The note had nothing to do with the
is from the fact dysentery in its worst conspiracy, then, on the face of it, mys­
form was prevalent around here last terious as it was and mysteriously as it
came. "Look here!” I said to the man.
summer and it never took over two or “Tell me who sent it, and I will give you
three doses of that remedy to effect a a crown.”
•
“I would not tell you,” he answered
complete cure.” For sale by S. Ho worth
stubbornly, “if you could make me king
& Co., druggists.
at England! No, nor king of Spain too!
SAN
FRANCISCO
The Shasta Route
LOCAL DIRECTORY
Oregon Central & Eastern
R. R. Co.
You might rack me, and you would not
get it from me!”
His one eye glowed with so obstinate a
resolve that I gave up the attempt to per­
suade aDd turned to examine the message
itself. But here I fared no better. I did
not know the handwriting, and there was
no peculiarity in the paper. I was no wis­
er than before. ‘ Are you to take back
any answer?” I said.
“No,” he replied, "the saints be thanked
for the same! But you will bear me wit­
ness, ” he went on anxiously, ‘ that I gave
you the letter. You will not forget that
or say that you have not had It? But
there!” he added to himself as he turned
away, speaking in a low voice, so that I
barely caught the sense of the words,
“what is the use? She will know!”
She will know! It had something to
do with a woman, then, even if a woman
were not the writer. I went in to break­
fast in two minds about going. I longed
to tell Master Bertie and take his advice,
though the unknown had enjoined me not
to do so. But for the time I refrained,
and explaining my absence of mind as
well as I could I presently stole away on
some excuse or other and started In good
time and on foot Into the city. I reached
the rendezvous a quarter of an hour before
the time named, and strolling between the
church and tbe baker’s shop tried to look
as much like a chance passerby as I could,
keeping the while a wary lookout for any
who might turn out to be my correspond­
ent.
The morning was cold and gray. A
drizzling rain was falling. The passers
were few, and the appearance of the streets
dirty and, with littered kennels, was
dreary Indeed. I found it bard at once to
keep myself warm and to avoid observa­
tion as I hung about. Ten o’clock had
rung from more than one steeple, and I
was beginning to think myself a fool for
my pains when a woman of middle
height, slender and young in figure, but
wearing a shabby brown cloak, and with
her head muffled in a hood, as though she
bad the toothache or dreaded the weather
more than ordinary, turned tbe corner of
the belfry and made straight toward me.
She drew near and seemed about to pass
me without notice. But when abreast of
mo she glanced up suddenly, her eyes the
only features I could see.
“Follow me to the church!” she mur­
mured gently, aud she swept on to the
porch.
I obeyed reluctantly—very reluctantly,
my feet seeming like lead, for I knew who
she was. Though I had only 6een her eyes,
I had recognized them and guessed already
what her business with me was. She led
the way resolutely to a quiet corner. The
church was empty and still, with only tbe
scent of incense in the air to tell of a re­
cent service. It was no surprise to me
when she turned abruptly, and removing
hor hood looked me in the face.
“What have you done with him?” sho
panted, laying her hand on my arm.
“Speak! Tell me what you have done
with him?”
The question, the very question I had
foreseen! Yet I tried to fence with her.
I said, “With whom?”
“With whom?” »he repeated bitterly.
“You know me! I am not so changed In
three years that you do not recognize me?”
“No; I know you,” I said.
There was a hectic flush on her cheeks,
and it seemed to me that tbe dark hair
was thinner on her thin temple» than
when I had seen her last, but her eyes
were the same.
“Then why ask with whom?” she cried
passionately. “What havo you done with
tbe man you oalled Clarence?”
“Done with him?” I said feebly.
“Aye, done with him? Come, speak and
tell me!” she repeated in fierce accents,
her hand clutching my wrist, her eyes
probing my face with merciless glances.
“Have you killed him? Tell me?”
“Killed him, Mistress Anne?” I said
sullenly. “No; I have not killed him.”
“He is alive?” she cried.
“For all I know, he is alive.”
She glared at me for some seconds to as­
sure herself that I was telling the truth.
Then she heaved a great sigh, her hands
fell from my wrists, the color faded out of
her face, and she lowered her eyes. I
glanced round with a momentary Idea of
escape, I so shrank from that which was
to come. But before I had well enter­
tained tbe notion she looked up, her face
grow,, calm.
“Then wbat have you done with him?”
she asked.
“I have done nothing with him,” I an-
»wered.
She laughed—a mirthless laugh. “Bah, ”
she said, “do not tell me lies! That is
your honor, I suppose—your honor to your
friends down in the cellar there! Do >eu
think that I do not know all about them?
Shall I give you the list? He is a very
dangerous conspirator, is Sir Thomas Pen-
ruddooke, is be not? And that scented
dandy Master Kingston! Or Master Crewd­
son—tell me of him! Tell me of him, I
say!” she exclaimed, with a sudden return
from Irony to a fierce eagerness, a breath­
less impatience. “Why did he not come
up last night? What have you done with
him?”
I shook my head, sick and trembling.
How could I tell her?
“I 6ee,” she said. “You will not tell
me. But you swear he is yet alive, Mas­
ter Cludde? Good. Then you are holding
him for a hostage? Is that it?” with a
piercing glance at my face, “or you have
condemned him, but for some reason the
I sentence lias not been executed?” She
drew a long, deep breath, for I fear my
face betrayed me. “That is It, is It? Then
there is »till time.”
She turned from me and looked toward
the end of the aisle, where a dull red lamp
hanging before the altar glowed feebly in
the warm, scented air. She seemed so to
turn and so to look in thankfulness as if
the news »he had learned were good in­
stead of what it was. “What is the hour
fixed?” she asked suddenly.
I shook my head.
“You will not tell me? Well, it mat­
tersnot,” she answered briskly. “He must
be saved. Do you bear? He must be saved,
Master Cludde. That is your business. ”
I shook my bead.
“You think it is not?" shesaid. “Well,
I can show you it is! Listen!”
She raised herself on a step of the fount
■nd looked me harshly In the faoe. “If he
be not given up to me safe and sound by
sunset this evening, I will betray you all!
All! I have the list here,” she muttered
sternly, touching her bosom. “You, Mas­
ter Bertie, Penruddocke, Fleming, Barnes
—all. All! Do you hear? Give him up,
or you shall hang!”
“You would not do it!” I cried aghast,
peering into her burning eyes.
“Would not do it? Fool!” she hissed.
“If all the world but he had one head, I
would cut it off to save his! He is my
husband! Do you hear? He is my hus­
band—my all! Do you think I have given
up everything, friend» and honor and
safety, for him to lose him now? No! You
say I would not do it? Do you know what
I have done? You have a scar there. ”
She touched me lightly on tbe breast.
“I did it,” sie
“You?” I muttered.
“Yes, L you blind fool! I did it,” she
answered. “You escaped then, and I wag
glad of it, since the wound answered my
“I can do nothing without the others,”
I said.
“But the others know nothing,” she
answered. They do not know their own
danger Where will you find them?”
I shall find them,” I replied resolute­
ly. And in any case I must consult Mas­
ter Bertie. . Will you come and see him?”
"And be locked up, too?” she said stern­
ly and in a different tone. "No; it is
you must do this, and you must answer
for it, Francis Cludde—you, and no one
else. ”
"I can do nothing by mysolf,” I re­
peated.
"Aye, but you can—you must!” she re­
torted, “or heaven’s curse will be upon
you! You think mo mad to say that Lis­
ten! Listen, fool! The man whom you
have condemned, whom you have left to
die, is not only my busband, wedded to
me these three years, but your father—
your father, Ferdinand Cludde!”
CHAPTER XX.
I stood glaring at her.
"You were a blind bat, or you would
have found it out for youtself,” 6he con­
tinued scornfully. “A babe would have
guessed it, knowing as much of your fa­
ther as you did.”
' Does he know himself?” I muttered
hoarsely, looking anywhere but at her
now. The shock had left me dull and con­
fused. I did not doubt her word, rather
I wondered with her that I had not found
this out for myself. But the possibility of
meeting my father in that wide world
into which I had plunged to escape from
the knowledge of his existence had never
occurred to me. Had I thought of it, It
would have seemed too unlikely, and
though I might have seen in Gardiner a
link between us,and so have identified him,
the greatness of the chancellor’s transac­
tions, and certain things about Clarence
which had seemed, or would have seemed
had I ever taken the point into considera­
tion, at variance with uiy ideas of my fa­
ther, had prevented me getting upon the
track.
“Does he know that you are his son, do
you mean?” shesaid. “No; hedoes not.”
"You have not told him?”
"No,” sho answered, with a slight
shiver.
I understood. I comprehended that even
to her the eagerness with which, being fa­
ther and son, we had sought one another’s
lives during those days on the Rhine had
seemed so dreadful that she bad concealed
the truth from him.
“When did you learn It?” I asked,
trembling too.
"I knew his right name before I ever
saw you,” she answered. “Yours I learned
on the day I left you at Santon.” Looking
baok, I remembered the strange horror,
then inexplicable, which sho had betrayed,
and I understood it. So it was that knowl­
edge which had driven her from us! “What
will you do now?” she said. “You will
eave him? You muse ear«« him! He is your
father. ”
Save him? I shuddered at the thought
that I had destroyed him; that I, his son,
had denounced him! Save him! The per­
spiration sprang out in beads on my fore­
head. If I could not save him, I should
live pitied by my friends and loathed by
my enemiesl
"If it be possible,” I muttered, “I will
6ave him. ”
“You swear it?” sho cried. Before I
could answer she seized my arm and drag­
ged me up the dim aisle until we stood to­
gether before the figure and the cross. The
chimes above us rang 11. A shaft of cold
sunshine pierced a dusty window and, full
of dancing motes, shot athwart the pillars.
"Swear,” she repeated, with trembling
eagerness, turning her eyes on mine and
raising her hand solemnly toward the fig­
ure. “Swear by the cross!”
“I swear, ” I said.
She dropped her hand. Her form seemed
to shrink and grow less. Making a sign
to me to go, she fell on her knees on the
step and drew her hood over her face. I
walked away on tiptoe down the aisle;
but, glancing back from the door of the
church, I saw the small, solitary figure
still kneeling in prayer. The sunshine
had died away. The dusty window was
colorless. Only tbo red lamp glowed dully
above her head. I seemed to see what the
end would be. Then I pushed aside the
curtain and slipped out into the keen air.
It was hers to pray. It was mine to act.
I lost no time, but on my return I could
not find Master Bertie either in the public
room or in the inn yard, so I sought him
in his bedroom, where I found him placid­
ly reading a book, his patient waiting in
striking contrast with the feverish anxiety
which had taken hold of me. “What is
it, lad?” he said, closing the volume and
laying it down on my entrance, “You
look disturbed. ”
“I have seen Mistress Anne,” I an-
swered. He whistled softly, staring at
me without a word, “She knows all,” I
continued.
“How much is all?” he asked after a
pause.
“Our names—all our numes—Penrud-
docko’s, Kingston's, the others—our meet­
ing place, and that we hold Clarence a
prisoner. She was that old woman whom
we saw at the Gatehouse tavern last
night.”
Ho nodded, appearing neither greatly
surprised nor greatly alarmed. “Does she
intend to use her knowledge?” he said. “I
suppose sho does.”
"Unless we let him go safe and unhurt
before sunset. ”
“They will never consent to it,” he an­
swered, shaking his head.
“Then they will hang!” I cried.
Ho looked hard at me a moment, dis­
cerning something strange in the bitter­
ness of my last words. “Come, lad,” he
said, “you have not told me all. Wbat
else have you learned?”
“How can I tell you?” I cried wildly,
waving him off and going to the lattice
that my face might be hidden from him.
“Heaven has cursed mel” I added, my
voico breaking.
He came and laid his hand on my shoul­
der. “Heaven curses no one,” he said.
“Most of our curses we make for our­
selves. Wbat is it, lad?”
I covered my face with my hands. “He
—ho is my father,” I muttered. “Do you
understand? Do you see what I have done?
He is my father!”
“Ha!” Master Bertie uttered that one
exclamation in intense astonishment.
Then he said no more. But the pressure
of his band told me that he understood;
that he felt with me; that he would help
me. And that silent comprehension, that
silent assuranoe, gave the sweetest com­
fort. “He must be allowed to go, then,
for this time,” he resumed gravely, after
a pause, in which I had had time to re­
cover myself. "We will see to it. But
there will be difficulties. You must be
strong and brave. The truth must be
told. It is the only way.”
I saw that it was, though I shrank ex­
ceedingly from the ordeal before me.
Master Bertie advised, when I grew more
calm, that wo should be the first at the
rendezvous, lest by some chance Penrud-
docke’s orders should be anticipated, and
accordingly, soon after 2 o’clock, we
mounted and set forth. I remarked that
my companion looked very carefully to his
arms, and taking the bint I followed his
example.
It was a silent, melancholy, anxious
ride. However successful we might be in
rescuing my father—alas, that I should
have today and always to call that man
father!—I could not escape the future be­
fore me. I had felt shame while he was
but a name to me. How could I endure to
live, with his infamy always before my
eyes? Petronilla, of whom I had been
thinking so much since I returned to Eng­
land, whose knot of velvet had never left
my breast nor her gentle face my heart—
how could I go back to her now? I had
thought my father dead and bis name and
fame old tales. But the years of foreign
life which yesterday had seemed a suffi­
cient barrier between his pa6t and myself
—of what use were they now, or the for­
eign service I had fondly regarded as a
purpose. But you will not escape again. kind of purification?
Maste» Bertie broke in on my reverie
The cord is surer.”
Something in her last words crossed my much as if he had followed its course.
“Understand one thing, lad,” he said, lay­
memory and enlightened me.
"You were the woman I saw last ing his hand on the withers of my horse.
night," I said- “You followed u» from “Yours must not be the hand to punish
your father. But after today you will owe
Highgate.”
"What matter? What matter?” »he ex­ him no duty. You will part from him to­
claimed impatiently. “Better be footsore day, and be will be a stranger to you. He
than heartsore. Will you do now what I deserted you when you were a child, and
If you owe reverence to any one It is to
want? Will you answer for his life?”
your uncle and not to him. He has him­
self severed the ties between you.”
“Yes,” I said “I will go abroad. I
will go back to Wilna. ”
“If ill comes of our enterprise, as I fear
ill will come, we will both go back, if we
can,” he answered. “If good by any
chance should come of it, then you shall
be my brother, our family shall be your
family. The duchess is rich enough,” he
added, with a smile, “to allow
younger brother’s portion.
"They are Spaniards, I fancy."
I could not answer him as I desired, for
wo passed at that moment under the arch­
way and became instantly involved in the
bustle going forward in the courtyard.
Near the principal door of the inn stood
eight or nine horses gayly caparisoned and
in the chargo of three foreign looking
men, who, lounging in their saddles, were
passing a jug from hand to hand. They
turned as we rode in and looked at us
curiously, but not with any impertinence.
Apparently they were waiting for the rest
of their party, who were inside the house.
Civilly disposed as they 6eemed, the fact
that they were armed and wore rich liv­
eries of black and gold caused me, and I
think both of us, a momentary alarm.
"Who are they?” Master Bertie asked in
a low voice a3 he rode to the opposite door
and dismounted with his back to thorn.
“They are Spaniards, I fancy,” I said,
scanning them over the shoulders of my
horse as I, too, got off. “Old friends, so
to speak.”
“They seem wonderfully subdued for
them,” he answered, "and on their best
behavior. If half tbe tales we heard this
morning be true, they are not wont to
carry themselves like this.”
Yet they certainly were Spanish, for I
overheard them speaking to one another
in that language, and before we had well
dismounted their leader—whom they re­
ceived with great respect, one of them
jumping down to hold his stirrup—came
out with three or four more and got to
horso again. Turning his rein to lead the
way out through the north gate, he passed
near us, and as ho settled himself in his
saddle took a good look at us. The look
passed harmlessly over me, but reaching
Master Bertie became concentrated. The
rider started and smiled faintly. He
seemed to pause. Then he raised his
plumed cap and bowed low, covered him­
self again and rode on. His train all fol­
lowed his example and saluted us as they
passed. Master Bertie’s face, which had
flushed a fiery red under the other's gaze,
grew pale again. He looked at me, when
they had gone by, with startled eyes.
“Do you know who that was?” he said,
speaking like one who bad received a blow
and did not yet know how much he was
hurt.
“No,” I said.
“It was tbe Count do Feria, the Span­
ish embassador,” he answered. “And he
recognized me. I met him often years ago.
I knew him again as soon as he came out,
but I did not think he would by any
chance recognize me in this dress.”
"Are you sure,” I asked in amazement,
“that it was he?”
“Quite sure,” he answered.
“But why did he not have you arrested
or at least detained? The warrants are still
out against you.”
Master Bertie shook his head. “I can­
not tell,” he said darkly. “He is a Span­
iard. But come, wo bare the less time to
lose. We must join our friends and tako
their advice. We seem to be surrounded
by pitfalls.”
At this moment tho lamo hostler came
up, and grumbliDg at U6 as if he had
never seen us in his life before, and never
wished to see us again, took our horses.
We went into tbe kitchen, and taking the
first chance of slipping up stairs to No. 15
we were admitted with the same precau­
tions as before, aDd descending the shaft
gained the cellar.
Here we were not, as we had looked to
be, the first on the scene. I suppose a
sense of the insecurity of our meeting
place had led every one to come early, so
as to be gone early. Penruddocke Indeed
was not here yet, but Kingston and half a
score of others were sitting about convers­
ing in low tones. It was plain that the
distrust and suspicion which we had re­
marked on the previous day had not been
allayed by tbe discovery of Clarence's
treachery.
Indeed It was clear that the distrust and
dospondency bad today become a panic.
Men glared at odo another and at tbe door
and talked In whispers and started at tbe
slightest sound. I glanced round. Tbe
one I sought for with eager yet shrinking
eyes was not to be seen. I turned to Mas­
ter Bertie, my face mutely calling on him
to ask the question. “W’here is the pris­
oner?” be said sharply.
A moment I hung in suspense. Then
one of the men said: “He Is in there. He
is safe enough!" He painted as he spoke
to a door which seemed to lead to an inner
cellar.
“Right,"said Master Bertie, still stand­
ing. “I have two pieces of bad news for
you nevertheless. Firstly, I have just been
recognized by the Spanish embassador,
whom I met in tbe courtyard ubove. ”
Half the men rose to their feet. "What
is he doing here?” they cried, one boldly,
the others with the quaver very plain in
their voices.
"I do not know, but be recognized me.
Why he took no steps to detain or arrest
me I cannot tell. He rode away by the
north road.”
They gazed at one another and we at
them. The wolfish look which fear brings
into some faces grew stronger in theirs.
“What is your other bad news?” said
Kingston, with an oath.
“A person outside, a friend of the pris­
oner, has a list of our names and knows
our meeting place and our plans. She
threatens to use tbe knowledge unless tbe
man Clarence or Crewdson be set free.”
There was a loud murmur of wrath and
dismay, amid which Kingston alone pre­
served his composure. "We might have
been prepared for that,” he said quietly.
"It is an old precaution of 6uch folk. But
bow did you come to hear of it?”
“My friend here saw the messenger and
heard tho terms. Tho man must be 6et
free by sunset.”
“And what warranty have we that he
will not go straight with his plans and his
list to the council?”
Master Bertie could not answer that,
neither could I. We had no surety, and
if we set him free could take none save
his word. His word! Could even I ask
them to accept that? To stake the life of
the meanest of them on it?
I saw the difficulties of tbe position, and
when Master Kingston pronounced coolly
that this was a waste of time, and that
the only wise course was to dispose of the
principal witness, both in the interests of
justice and our own safety, and then 6hift
ourselves before the storm broke, I ac­
knowledged in my heart tbe wisdom of
tbo course and felt that yesterday it would
have received my assent.
"The risk Is about the same either
way,” Master Bertie said.
"Not at all," Kingston objected, a spar­
kle of malice in his eye. Last night we
had thwarted him. Tonight it was bls
turn, and the dark, lowering looks of those
round him showed that numbers were
with him- "This fellow can hang us all.
His accomplice who escapes enn know
nothing save through him and could glvq
only vague and uncertain evidence. No,
no. Let us cast lots who shall do it, get
it done quickly and be gone.”
"We must wait at least,” Bertie urged,
"until Sir Thomas comes.”
“No!” retorted Kingston, with heat.
“We are all equal here. Besides the man
was condemned yesterday with tbe full
z
assent of alL It only remains to carry out
the sentence. Surely this gentleman,” he
continued, turning suddenly upon mo,
“who was so ready to accuse him yester­
day, does not wish him spared today.”
“I do wish it,” I said in a low tone.
"Ho! ho!” he cried, folding his arms
and throwing back his head, astonished at
the success of his own question. “Then
may we ask for your reasons, sir? Last
night you could not lay your tongue to
words too bad for him. Tonight you wish
to spare him and let him go.”
“I do," I said. I lelt that every eye was
upon me aud that, Master Bertie except­
ed, not one there would feel sympathy
with mo in my humiliation. They were
driven to tho wall. They had no time for
fine feeling, for sympathy, for apprecia­
tion of tho tragic, unless it touched them­
selves. Wbat chanco had I with them,
though I was a son pleading for a father?
Nay, what argument had I save that I
was his son, and that I had brought him
to this? No argument. Only the appeal
to them that they would not make me a
parricide! And I felt that at this they
would mock.
Aud so, in view of those stern, curious
faces, a new temptation seized me—tbe
temptation to be silent. Why should I
not stand by and let things tako their
course? Why should I not spare myself
the shame which I already saw would be
fruitless? When Master Kingston with a
cynical bow, said, “Your reasons, sir,” I
stood mute and trembling. If I kept si­
lence, if I refused to give my reasons. If
I did not acknowledge the prisoner, but
merely begged bis life, ho would die, and
tbo connection between us would bo
known only to one or two. I should bo
freed from him aDd might go my own
way. The sins of Ferdinand Cludde were
well nigh forgotten. Why take to myself
the sins of Clarence, which would other­
wise nover stain my name, would nover
be associated with my father or myself?
Why, Indeed? It was a great and sore
temptation as I stood there before all
those eyes. Ho bad deserved death. I had
given him up in perfect innocence. Had I
any right to call on them to risk their
lives that I might go harmless in con­
science, and ho in person? Had I—
What! Was there, after all, some taint
in my blood? Was I going to become like
him—to take to myself a sbamoof my own
earning in the effort to escapo from the
burden of his ill fame? I remembered in
time the oath I had sworn, and when
Kingston repeated bis question I answered
him quickly. “I did not know yesterday
who he was,” I said. “I have discovered
since that he is my father. I ask nothing
on his account. Were he only my father I
would not plead for him. I plead for my­
self, ” I murmured. “If you show no pity,
you make mo a parricide.”
I had done them wrong. There was
something In my voice, I suppose, as I
said the words which cost me so much,
which wrought with almost all of them in
a degree. They gazed at me with awed,
wondering faces and murmured, “His fa­
ther!” in low tones. They were recalling
tbe scone of last night, the moment when
I had denounced him, the curse he had
hurled at me, the half told story of which
that had seemed tbe climax. I had
wronged them. They did see tho tragedy
of it.
“Yos; they pitied me, but they showed
plainly that they would still do what per­
haps I should have done in their place—
justice. “He knows too much!” said one.
“Our lives are as good as his,” muttered
another, tbe first to become thoroughly
himself again. “Why should we all die
for him?” The wolfish glare came back
fast to their eyes. They handled their
weapons impatiently. They were longing
to be away. At this moment, when I saw
I had indeed made my confession in vain,
Master Bertie struck in. “What,” he
said, “if Master Carey and I take charge
of him, and, escorting him to his agent
without, be answerable for both of them?”
“You would be only putting your necks
into tho noose!” said Kingston.
We will risk that!” replied my friend,
and what a friend and wbat a man he
seemed amid that ignoble crew! “I will
myaelf premise you that if he refuse to re­
main with us until midnight or tries
wherever we are to raise an alarm or com­
municate with any one I will run him
through with my own hand. Will not
that satisfy you?”
“No,” Master Kingston retorted; “it
will not! A bird in the hand is worth
two in the bush!”
“But the woman outside?” said one
timidly.
"We must run that risk,” quoth he.
“In an hour or two we shall be in hiding.
Come, the lot must be drawn. For this
gentleman, let him stand aside.”
1 leaned against the wall, dazed and
horror stricken. Now that I hud identi­
fied myself with him I felt a great long­
ing to save him. I scarcely noticed the
group drawing pieces of paper at tbo ta­
ble. My every thought was taken up with
the low door over there and the wretched
man lying bouud in the darkness behind
it. What must be the horror, the black
despair, the bate aud defiance of his mind
as he lay there, trapped at last like any
beast of prey? It was horrible! horrible!
horrible!
I covered my face and could not restrain
tbe cry of unutterable distress which rose
to my lips. They looked round, two or
three of them, from the table. But the
impression my appeal had made upon
them had faded away already, and they
only shrugged their shoulders and turned
again to their task. Master Bertie alone
stood apart, his arms folded, his face grave
and dark. He, too, had abandoned hope.
There seemed no hope, when suddenly
there came a knocking at the door. The
papers were dropped, and while some stood
as if stiffened into stone others turned and
gazed at their neighbors. It was a knock­
ing more hasty and imperative than thv
usual summons, though given in tho same
fashion. At last a man found tongue. “It
is Sir Thomas,” he suggested, with a sigh
of relief. “He is in a hurry and brings
news. I know his knock. ”
“Then open tbo door, fool,"cried King­
ston. “If you can see through a two Inch
plank, why do you stand there like a
gaby?”
Master Bertie anticipated the man and
bimsolf opened the door and admitted the
knocker. Penruddocke it was. He came
id , still drumming on tbe door with his
fist, his eyes sparkling, bis ruddy cheeks
aglow. He crossed the threshold with a
swagger, and looking at us all burst into
a strange pea) of laughter. “Yoicks! Gono
to earth!” be shouted, waving his hand as
if he had a whip in it. ’♦Gone to earth—
gone forever! Did you think it was the
lords of the council, my lads?”
He had left the door wide open behind
him, and we now saw in the doorway the
seafaring man who usually guarded the
room abovo. “What does this mean, Sir
Thomas?” Kingston said sternly. He
thought, I fancy, as many of us did, that
the knight was drunk. "Have you given
that man permission to leave his post?”
“Post? There are no more posts,” cried
Sir Thomas, with a strango jollity. He
certainly was drunk, but perhaps not with
liquor. “Except good fat posts,” he con­
tinued, smacking Master Bertie on the
shoulder, “for loyal men who have done
tho state service and risked their lives in
evil times! Posts? I shall get so drunk
tonight that the stoutest post on Ludgate
will not hold me up!”
“You seem to have gone far that way
already,” my friend said coldly.
“So will you when you hear the news!”
Penruddocke replied, more soberly. "Lads,
the queen is dying!”
In the vaulted room his statement was
received in silence, a silence dictated by
no feeling for the woman going before her
Maker—bow should we who were plotting
against her feel for her, we who were for
tbo most part homeless and proscribed
through her?—but the silence of men in
doubt, in doubt whether this might mean
all that from Sir Thomas’ aspect It seemed
to mean.
“She cannot live aweek!” Penruddocke
continued. “The doctors have given up
hope, and at the palace all is in confusion.
She has named tbe Princess Elizabeth her
successor, and even now Cecil is drawing
up the proclamations. To show that the
game is really up the Count de Feria, the
Spanish embassador, has gone this very
day to Hatfield to pay his respects to the
coming queen.”
Then indeed tho vaulted roof did ring­
ring and ring again with shouts of “the
coming queen!” Men over whom the
wings cf death had seemed a minuto ago
to be hovering, darkening all thing: to
them, looked up and saw the sun. "The
coming queen!” they cried.
“You need fear nothing!” continued
Penruddocke wildly. “No one will dare
to execute the warrants. Tbe bishops are
shaking in their miters. Polo is said to
be dying. Bonner is more likely to hang
hiluself than burn others. Up and out
and play the man! Away to your counties
aud get ready your tar barrels! Now we
will give them a tasto of thoCujus Regio!
Ho, drawer, there! A cup of ale!”
He turned, and shouting a scrap of a
song swaggered back into the shaft and
bogan to ascend. They all trooped after
him, talking and laughing, a recklass,
good natured crew, looking to a man as if
they bad never known fear or selfishness
—as if distrust were a thing impossible to
them. Master Kingston alone, whom his
losses had soured and who still brooded
over his revenge, went off moodily.
I was for stopping one of them, but
Master Bertie directed my eyes by a ges­
ture of his hand to the door at the far end
of the cellar, and I saw that the key was
in the lock. Ho wrung my hand hard.
"Tell him all,” he muttered. "I will
wait above.”
Mexican
Mustang
Liniment
for
Burns,
Caked & Inflamed Udders.
Piles,
Rheumatic Pains,
Bruises and ¿trains,
Running Sores,
Inflammations,
Stiff joints,
Harness & Saddle Sores,
Sciatica,
Lumbago,
Scalds,
Blisters,
Insect Bites,
All Cattle Ailments,
Ail Horse Ailments,
Ail Sheep Ailments,
CHAPTER XXI.
Tell him all? I stood thinking, my hand
on the key. The voices of the rearmost of
the conspirators sounded more and more
faintly as they passed up the shaft, until
their last accents died in the room above,
and silence followed—a silence in strange
contrast with the bright glare of the
torches which burned round mo and lit
up the empty cellar as for a feast I was
wondering what he would say when I told
him all, when I said: “lam your son! I.
whom Providence has used to thwart your
plans, whose life you sought, whom, with­
out a thought of pity, you left to perish!
I am your son!”
Infinitely I dreaded the moment when I
should tell him this and hear bis answer,
and I lingered with my hand on the key
until an abrupt knocking on the othei
side of the door brought the blood to my
face. Before I could turn tho key the hasty
summons was repeated and grew to a
frantic, hurried drumming on tho boards
—a sound which plainly told of terror
suddenly conceived and In an instant full
grown A hoarse cry followed, coming
dully to my ears through the thickness of
the door, and the next moment the stout
planks shook as a heavy weight fell against
them.
I turned the key and the door was flung
open from within. My father stumbled
Mustang Liniment conquers
out.
Pain,
Tbe strong light for an instant blinded
Makes .Tan or Beast well
him, and be blinked as an owl does
again
brought to tbe sunshine. Even in him
the long hours passed in solitude and the
blackness of despair bad worked changes
His hair was grayer; in patches it was al
most white, and then again dark. He had
gnawed his lower lip, and there were
bloodstains on it. His mustache, too, was
ragged and torn, as if he had gnawed that
also. His eyes were bloodshot, his lean Thos. F. Oakes, Henry C. Payne, Henry C.
face was white and haggard and fierce.
Rouse, Receiver«;.
“Ha!” be cried, trembling as he peered
round, “I thought they had left me to
starve! There were rat9 in there! I
thought”—
He stopped. He saw me standing hold­
ing the edge of the door. He saw that
otherwise tho room was empty, the farther
door loading to the shaft open. An open
door! To him doubtless it seemed of all
sights the most wonderful, the most heav­
enly! His knees began to shake under
him.
"What is it?” he muttered. “Wbat
were they shouting about? I beard them
shouting.”
“The queen is dying,” I answered sim­
ply, “or dead, and you can do us no more
harm. You are free. ”
“Free?” He repeated the word, leaning
against the wall, his eyes wild and glar­
ing, his lips parted.
"Yes; free, ” I answered in a lower voice
—“free to go out into the air of heaven a
living man!” I paused. For a moment I
could not continue. Then I added sol­
emnly, “Sir, Providence has saved you
from death and me from a crime.”
He leaned still against the wall, dazed,
ST. PAUL
thunderstruck, almost incredulous, and
MINNEAPOLIS
looked from me to the open door and back
again as if without this constant testi­
DULUTH
mony of his eyes he could not believe in
FARGO
bis escape.
“It was not Anne?” he murmured
GRAND FORKS
TO
“She did not”—
CROOKSTON~
“She tried to save your life,” I an­
swered, “but they would not listen to
WINNIPEG
her.' ’
HELLEN A and
“Did she come here?”
As he speke he straightened himself
BUTTE
with an effort and stood up. He was
growing more like himself.
“No,” Ianswercd. “She sent for me and
told me her terms. But Kingston and the CHICAGO
others would not listen to them. You
would have been dead now, though I did | WASHINGTON
all I could to save you, if Peuruddocko PHILADELPHIA
bad not brought this news of tbe queen.” NEW YORK
“She is dead?”
BOSTON AND ALL
“She is dying. Tbe Spanish embassa­
POINTS
EAST and SOUTH
dor, ” I added to clinch tho matter, for I
saw he doubted, “redo through here this
For information, time card«, maps or
afternoon to pay his court to the Princess | tickets, call on or write
Elizabeth at Hatfield.”
Ho looked dowu at the ground, think­ I C. H. FLEMING, Agent.
MCMINNVILLE.
ing deeply. Most men would have been
unable to think at all, unable to concen­
A.D.CHARLTON,
Asst.Gen.Pas.Agt.
trate their thoughts on anything save
266 MORRISON S t .. COR. 30.
their escape from death. But a life of
daily risk and hazard had so hardened
PORTLAND, ORECON.
this man that I was certain, as I watched I
him, that he was not praying nor giving
thanks. He was already pondering bow
>a
he might make tbe most out of the change;
TAVERN OF
how be might to the best advantage sell
his knowledge of the government whose
hours were numbered to the government
which soon would be. The life of Intrigue
had become second nature to him.
Ho looked up, and our eyes met We
Opens June 1,1895
gazed at one another.
"Why are you bore?” he said curiously.
Gao. bchonewalil, Manager.
“Why did they leave you? Why were you
tbe one to stop to set me free, Master
Carey?”
Luxury, Good Cheer, Hospitality,
“My name is not Carey,” I answered.
Delightful and Healthful Pastimes,
“What is it, then?” he asked carelessly.
Matchless Mountain Scenery.
“Cludde,” I answered softly.
“Cludde!” He called it out Even his
self mastery could not cope with this sur­
SWEET BRIER CAMP.
prise. “Cludde,” he said again—said it
twice in a lower voice.
Established last year in a romantic dell
of the Sacramento Canyon, lust below and
“Yes, Cludde,” I answered, meeting
in full view ot grand old febasla It was
and yet shrinking from his questioning
a great hit, and promises even more en
eyes, “my name is Cludde. So is yours. I
«■ouraglng results for the present year
T. J. Lorres, at Castilla, is still in charge
tried to save your life, because I learned
and will answer all inquiries.
from Mistress Anne”—
I paused. I shrank from telling him
A new candidate for public favor this
year is
that which, as it seemed to me, would
strike him to the ground In shame and
SHASTA VICINO CAMP
horror. But he had no fear.
Also in the Shasta region about a mile and
"What?” he cried. “What did you
a half from Dunsmuir It is a genuine
learn?”
paradise for hunters, iishen and seekers
of
health Mild pleasure. Easy to reach
“That you are my father,” I answered
(near the railroad), sightly, and all the
slowly. “I am Francis Cludde, the sou
necessities of canrn life easily procurable
whom you deserted many years ago and to
All inquiries about Shasta Vicino Camp,
whom Sir Anthony gave a home at Co­
if addressed to W. C. Gray, box 4, Duns
muir,
Cal., will receive prompt attention
ton.”
I expected him to do anything except
CAMPING IN THE
what he did. He stared at me with as­
SANTA
CRUZ MOUNTAINS
tonished eyes for a minute, and then a
Alm». Wrights, Laurel, Glenwood. Felton
low whistle issued from his lips.
Ben Lomond, Boulder Creek
“My son, are you? My son!” he said
coolly. “And how long have you known
REDUCED RATES
this, young sir?”
During the Camping season will be
"Since yesterday,” I murmured. Tbe
made by tbe
words he bad used on that morning at
SOUTHERN PACIFIC CO.
Santon when he had bidden me die and
For full particulars address
rot were fresh in my memory—in my
£. P. ROGERS, Asst .Gen Pass. Agent
memory, not in his. I recalled bis treach­
Portland, Oregon.
ery to the duchess, his pursuit of us, his
departure with Anne, the words in which
be had cursed me. He remembered appar­
ently none of these things, but simply
With one eye on the clock, and the
gazed at me with a thoughtful smile.
other on your plate, you cannot enjoy a
“Iwish Ihad known it before,” he said
at last. "Things might have been differ­ meal. When traveling east, you should
ent. A pretty dutiful 6on you have been!” take the Northern Pacific, the only din
Tbe sneer did me good.’ It recalled to ing car line from Portland ; meals 75
my mind what Master Bertie had said.
“There can be no question of duty be­ cents. You don’t have to get up in the
tween us,” I answered firmly. “What morning at 6 o’clock, rush to breakfast
duty I owe to any one of my family I owe and gulp it down in fifteen or twenty
to my uncle."
minutes, and then have to wait until 2
“Then why have you told me this?”
“Because I thought it right you should or three o’clock for lunch or dinner. To
know It,” I answered, "were it only that, avoid this, take the Northern Pacific;
knowing it, we may go different ways. the only dining car route, the only line
We have nearly done one another a mis­ to the Yellowstone Park and the only
chief more than once,” I added gravely.
line running Pullman Tourist Sleepers
be Continued.
Penetrates Muscle,
Membrane and Tissue
Quickly to the Very
Seat of Pain and
Ousts it in a Jiffy.
Rub in Vigorously.
NORTHERN
PACIFIC
s
X
X
Pullman
Sleeping Cars
Elegant
Dining Cars
Tourist
Sleeping Cars
THROUGH TICKETS TO
(/)
0
Z
I-
□
0
Castle Crags
tn
0
z
h
D
0
without from 12 to 16 hours delay.
For full information, time cards, maps,
Blank Deeds, Chattel Mortgages, Real etc., call on or address,
C. H. F leming , Agent,
Estate Mortgages, etc., always on sale at
this office,
.
tf
McMinnville, Ore,