CHAPTER III—Mud* mat Ii*l«n go oat apon th« brldr* in tba nooolltht u>4 H*l*i narrowly ncama a tall to th« rtror t«low. Itoade t«ll» hU tor* and they (o to Um colonel, who approrw their marHaca when the brtd*e U finished. CHAPTER IV—Abbott the construction erflneer. tells Resde there Is a deflection In member C-W-R, but makes ll*ht of it. Hsade. after ralnly trylnc to stop the

aster, but younc Meade only reaches Colonel ll Ur.fworth as a msessri cornea that the brldce, with UO men. Is In the rtrer. CHAPTER VI—Abbott fioes on with the work. Imorinc Meade's protests, but While uneasily Inspecting C-fc-R the lacln** deetST^andh. ro-^to^.

his objections have been

CHAPTER Vm-Tonn* Meade, on hU r^tirn. meets 'Rodney, an old collece friend, and other reporters at ths door of KL - He finds his father

o has not obeyed orders, but

concealed the [

CHAPTER IX—In her father's and over her protest Meade breaks ms encasement with Helen. Mend? was not left alone. Beyond the hillside where his father had been burled rose a damp of trees. Bushes grew at their feet A woman—should msn.be bailed without woman's tears! —bed stood concealed there waiting, ileleti Illingworth had wept over tha drearlncrx. the ro<ntrnfnlne«s of It all. ghe-hud hojied that Meade might stay after' the other went and now that ha was 1 *lone she came to him. Khe laid her luu.d upon his arm. Ur tarned and looked at her. “1 knew that yon would be here," ha aalth “Did yon s.e meT" "1 felt your presence." “Ijsten," said the woman. “Ton are wrecking your life for jbvr father's fame. A man has a ri hi perhaps to do wlth'hls own life whs. ne will, bat, when he loves a woman and when ha haa told her so and she has given him her heart, did it ever occur to yon that when he wrecks his life he wreela hers, end baa he a right to wreck hei life for anyone else?" "Oh. my God." said Meade, “this La znort; than 1 can bear." "1 don't want to force yon to do anything yon don't want to do and yon arc not In any mood to discuss these things,” she said In quick compassion. “Some day you will come back to me." He stretched out his hands toward her over the grave. “I don't know." he cried. “I dart not tappe” "With lov' like ours." she answered, "all thln>.'( are possible." “1 cant bind yon. Von most be free." be said slowly, turning hla head. “You are breaking my heart, but 1 shall live and fight on for love and you." **Ood Ness yen." "Ton are going away!” she asked at last. “I must break with everything. 1 must give you your chance of freedom." “Very well." said the woman. “Now hear me. Yon can't go so far on this earth or hide yourself away so cunningly but that I can find yon and BMjfoa follow you. And I wil.. Nvw, 1 must go. 1 left my car down the road yonder. Will yon go with atT' The man sbi-ok his head and knelt down before her suddenly and caught her skirt In hla grasp. HI# arms swept Ground her ktu-es. She yielded one hand to the pressure o< his Ups and laid the other upon his head. “Go nca-.'' he whispered, "for God's aake. If I look at you 1 must follow." CHAPTER A. The New Redman. There are no more beautiful valleys enywhere than those cut by the iters of primeval Hoods through the foothills of the great snow-covered Rocky moontains. The erosions and washings of untold centuries have flung ot.4 tn fron' ■ft the granite tampans of aucceosloa o! lower eler-iMods Mke the bastions .f

■ overlooked by the greet peaks

The monotony of tbeae plnedad, wind-swept slopes la broken even In the low hills by ont-thrustlngs of stone, oesaetimes the hard Igneous rode, the granite of the mountains, more frequently the softer red sandstone of a period later, yet Ineffably old. These cliffs, buttes, hills and mesas have been weathered Into strange and fantastic shapes which diversify the landscape and add charm to the country. The narrow canons In which the now-bed streams take their rise grad-, nally widen as the water follows Its tortuous course down the mountains through the subsiding ranges and out among the foothills to the sandy, arid, windy plains beyond. At the entrance of one of the loveliest of these broad and verdant valleys, a abort distance above Its confluence with a narrower, more rugged ravine through the hills, lay the thriving little town of Ooro-

k

me twooty miles back from the town at a place where the valley was narrowed to a quarter of a mile, and separating It from the paralleling rsnoe, roa.- a huge sandstone rock called Ush Mesa. Its top. some hundreds of feet higher than the tree-dad base Of the hills, was mainly level. From its high elevation the roun'ry could be for many miles, mountains on one hand, plains on the other. It stood like an Island In a sea of verdure. Little spurs and ridges run from It Toward the range It descended and contracted Into a narrow saddle, vulgarly known os a "bog-beck.” where the granite of the mountains was hidden under a deep covering of grass-grown e*rth. which formed the only division between the valley and the gorge or ravine, before the .aod, widening, roee Into the next hill. The people came from miles away i see that Interesting and cartons less, much more striking lu Us appearance than Baldwin's knob, the last foothill below It. Transcontinental travelers even broke Journey to visit it The town prospered accordingly, especially as It was admirably situated as a place of departure for hunters, explorers. prospectors and adventurers, who sought what they craved In the wild hills. There were one or two good hotels for tonrlata, unusually extensive general stores of the better class, where hunting and prospecting parties conld be outfitted, and the high-11 vlrg. extravagant cattle ranchers conld get what they demanded. Besides all these there were the modest homes of the lovers of the rough bnt exhilarating and health-giving life of the Rocky monntalns. Of course there were numerous saloons and gambling hallo, and the town was the haont of cowboys. hunters, miners. Indians—the old frontier with a few touches of civilisation added! What was left of the river, which had made the valley—and during the Infrequent periods of rain too brief to h* known as the rainy season, it really lived up to the name of river—flowed merrily through the town, when It flowed at all, under the name of Picket Wire. When the railroad came the Picket Wire had been first studied In the hope of finding a practicable way over the mountains, bnt the ravine on the other side of the mesa had been found to offer a shorter and more practicable route. And. by the way. this ravine, taking Its name from the little brook far down In Its narrows was known as the “Kicking Horae.” So the railroad ran up the ravine and the Picket Wire was left still virgin to the assaults of man. Bnt the day came when It waa despoiled of Its hitherto long Blending, unravlshed In nocence. Shouts of men. cracking of whips, trampling of boraeu, groaning of wheels, wordless bat vocal protests of beasts of burden mingled with the ringing of axes, the detonations of dy-nani-.i. TK> whistle »f engines and the r at * *<ram filled the valley. Under the direction of engineer*, a huge mound oi earth arose acrooa Its narro«i«t part. Dearest a shoulder, or spur, of the mesa reaching westward. No more should the silver Picket Wire flow unvexed on Its way to the sea. It was to be dammed. AH that the huge, hot Inferno of baked plain, where saga brush and buffalo grass alone grow, needed to make It burgeon with wheat and oorn waa water. The little licket Wire, which had meandered and sparkled and chattered on at Its owi. sweet will was now to be held until It filled a great iakellke reeervol' In the hlils back of the new earth dam. Then through skillfully located Irrigation ditches the water was to be given to the mllUoos of hungry Uttie whaatlet* and cornlots. which would clamor for a drink. The fierce sun was no longar to work Its unthwarud will In burning up the prairie. With the promise of water on the plain beyond, Curoeado sprang Into newer and more rtguruu* life. In th* language of the West It “boomed" The railroad had been a forlorn hraurli running up Into the luountains and ending nowhere. Ita first build, r* hud been daunted by difficulties aud lark of money, but a* soon ss the great dam was projected, which would open several hundred thousand acres fur cultivation and serve as an Ineplrsitos In Its practical result* to cth-v stniilnr attempt*, people came r warning Into the country buying up 'be laud the price for acreage steadily mounilng. The railroad accordingly found It worth while to Mke up the lung-aban-doned coo*;ruction work of mounting •he range aud musing It. Men suddenly observed that It was the aborte*; distance between two cardinal

. The long vwnodec trestle which •Tossed the broad, sandy depression In front of the town, the bed of the ancient river, through which the Picket Wire and further down Its affluent, the Kicking Horse, flowed humbly and modestly, waa being replaced by a great viaduct of steel. Far up the gorge past the other ride of the Spanish Mesa another higher trestle had already been replaced by a splendid Reel arch. A siding had been built near the ravine, a path made to the foot of the mesa, and arrangements were being made to run a local train up from the town when all waa completed to give the people an opportunity to ride up the gorge and see the great pile of rock, on which enterprise v.os already planning the desecration of a summer hotel, the blasphemy of an amusement park! Up the valley of the Picket Wire one morniug in early fall came a young man roughly dressed like the average

h* gradual slopes l&w the dUMut j

A Young Man Roughly edw-puncher from the ran chi** further north. He rode well, yet with a certain attention to detail and a niccness that betrayed him to the real roughrider of the range. Just as the clothes he wore, although they were the ordinary cattleman’s outfit, were worn In a Uttie different way that again betrayed him. One look Into the face of the man, albeit hla mustache and beard hid the revealing outlines of mouth and chin, sufficed to show that here was no ordinary cow-puncher. He rode boldly enough among the rocks of the trail and along the rough road, which had been made by the wheels of the wagon* and hoofs of the horses. There was about him some of the quiet confidence begot of achievement some of the power which knowledge brings and which success emphasises, yet there wer? uncertainty and hesitation, too, at If all had not been plain Bailing on

hla course.

To be the resident engineer charged with the construction of a great eurth dam like that across the licket Wire, requires knowledge of a great many thing* beside the technicalities of the profession, chief among them being a knowledge of men. Aa the newcomer threw his leg over the saddle-horn, stepped lightly to the ground, dropping the reins of his pony to the soil at the same time. Vender enter, the engineer lu question, looked at him with approval. Some subtle recognition of the man's quality came Into his mind. Her* waa one who seemed distinctly worth while, one who Rood ont above the ordinary appUcant for Job* who came in contort with Vandeventer. aa the big mesa rose above the foothill. However, the chief kept these thing* to himself as ho Rood looking and waiting for the other man to begin: "Are you -he resident engineer?" asked the newcomer quietly, yet there was a certain nervous note In Ns voice. | which tbs alert and observant Rlfinnar found himself wondering at. such a ! strain a- might come when a man Is ; about to enter upon a course of action. to take a strange or perilous step, such ; a little sNver in N* speech a* a naked i man might feel In his body before be ; plunged into the Icy waters of the

| wintry sea.

"I am."

"I'd like a Job." “We have no use for cow-punchers on this dam." “I'm not exactly a cow-puncher, sir." “What are you?" !■ “Look here." said the man, smiling a little. “I've been out la this country long enough to learn that all that It I* necessary to know about c man la ‘Will he make good?" Let u* say that I am nothing aud let It go at that.” “Out of nothing, nothing cornea.” laughed the cnglnaer, genalnelj

amused.

Some men would have been angry, but Vandeventer rather enjoyed this. “I didn't *ay I was good for nothing." answered the other man, smiling In turn, though he waa evidently aertuu* enough In hla application. “Well, what era yon do? Are yen an engineer?" "Weil peas over th* last question, too. If you plea**. 1 think I could carry a rod If I had a chance and there was a vacancy.” “I'inph,” said V»ndev«uter. “you think you could?* "Yea. sir. Give me a trial." “All light, lake that rod over there aud go out on the edge of the dam where that Rake show*, and I’ll Jake a right on IL" Now there are two ways—a hundred perhaps of holding a rod; one right way and all the others wrong. A newcomer Invariably groapa It Ugbtir In j Us fiat and Jama It down, ronrafvlag iLat the only way to get U plttofc find |

hold ft Ready. The experienced man strives to balance It erect on It* own ba*e and hold* It with the tips of Ns finger* on either side In an upright position, swaying It very slightly backward and forward. He does It unconsdoualy, too. Vandeventer had liecn rtandlng by a level already set up when the newcomer arrived and the rod was lying on the ground beside IL The latter picked It up without a wqjd. walked rapidly to the stoke, loosened the target and balanced the rod upon the stake. As soon as Vandeventer observed that Ns new seeker after work held the rod in the right way. he did not trouble to take the Bight. He threw his bead backward and raised his hand, beckoning) r. “It so happens.” he began, “that I can give you a job. The rod man next In lire of promotion 1ms been given the level. One of the men went East last night You can have the Job. wNch Is—" , “I don’t core anything about the detail*.” said the man quickly and gladly. "It's the work I want" "Well, you'll get what the rest do," said Vandeventer. “Now, as you Justly remarked. I have found that K la not polite out hen- to Inquire too closely Into a man's antecedents and I have learned to respect local customs, but we must have some name by wNch to Identify you, make out your pay check, and—" “Do yon pay In checks?” “No. but you have to sign a check." “Well, call me Smith." Vandeventer threw back Ns head and laughed. The other man turned a little red. The chief engineer observed the glint In bis new friend's eye. “Pm not exactly laughing at you.” he explained, “but at the singular lack of Inventiveness of the American. We have at least thirty Smiths out of two hundred men on our pay roll, and It Is a bit confusing. Would you mind selecting some other name?" “If it’s all the same to yon." announced the newcomer amusedly—the chief* laughter was Infection*—Tm agreeable to Jones, or Brown, or—” “We have numbers of all of thoae,

too."

•'Really," said the man hesitatingly. “I haven't given the Sibject any thought." "What about some of your family names?" “That gives me an Idea," said the newcomer, who decided to use Ns mother's rame, “you can call me Rob-

away at one and the sumo moment! A weaker man might have sent life to follow. In the troubled days after the fall of the bridge, hla father's death, the Inquests, Ns testimony and evidence freely given, and that parting, _

something like .despair had filled the seemed the only thing he cared

«nd stone. Reel and concrete, deRgnfi and plans and undertaking and aceoropllghment in the world? Became It waa the thing that he must shudSR end put out of his mind, englnesRad

id foeJ

young engineers heart. Life held noth There would be no engineering on that Ing. He debated with Nmse'.f whether ranch on the slopes of the range. Hai U would not be better to end It than conld settle the question there, to live IL He envied his father Ns , Winters was glad to see Nm. Ee sad broken heart Singularly enough, the Rodney and Meade had been the warm-

est of friends. Of course \ not tell Rodney the truth on a

pf hla newspaper connections, but 1

“And I suppose John for the prefix?" “John will do aa well as any, I am

sure."

“We have about fifty Johns. Every Smith appears to have been born • John." | “How did you arrange It?” asked the j other with daring freedom, for a rodj man does not enter conversation on terms of equality with the cNef en-

gineer.

“I got a little pocket dictionary down at the town with n list of names and I went through that U« with tbq Smiths, dealing them out In order. Well, that will do for your name," he said, making a memorandum In the little book he pulled out of Ns flannel sNrt pocket. He turned to a man who had come up to the level. “Smith.” he said—“by the j v.-ay this Is Mr. Claude Smith. Mr. RobI erts—here’s your new rodman. You i know your Job, Roberts. Get to work." | And that la how Bertram Meade, a few months after the failure- of the great bridge, once again entered the ranks of engineers, beginning, as was ueci-Riary and Inevitable, very low down In the scale. CHAPTER XI. Tha Valley of Decision. Much water hart run under tha bridges of the world and Incidentally over the wreck of the International,

thing that made life at least value was the thing that kept Nm from

throwing It away—the x

Striving to analyse the complex emotions that centered about hla loose* tell Winters under assurance of a he was forced to admlL although It Jute secrecy. For one tNng the MgJ seemed a sign of weakness, that love cattleman had bluntly refused to credit! of woman was greeter than love of Ns friend's first statements; and, wbM, fame, that In the balance one girl ont-! he at last heard the truth, he blamed weighed bridge and father. That the ! him roandly wNle he appreciated fuUyt romance was ended waa what made the nobleness of Ht* self-sacrifice. The life Insupportable. Yet the fainL vague ' clear-headed, practical Winters put It possibility that It might be resumed If 'this way: Meade waa capable of dohe could find some way to show Ns i DR splendid service to humanity aa an worthiness waa what made him ding engineer and bade fair to bo evaS to IL greater than Nl father, yet for the Of course he could have showed sake of the fame of a dead man. to without much difficulty and beyond whouj after all It would matter little, peradventure at the Inquest over Ab- he bad thrown away that splendid opbott and the Investigation Into the j>ortunity! cause of the failure of the bridge—un-, This was a new thought to Meedq fortunate but too obvious—that the 1 and B disturbing one. Upforturntaiy, frightful and fatal error In the design as even Winters was forced to ao was not Ns and that he had protested knowledge, the suggestion cam# tod against the accepted plan, if only he late. The course had been entered UPhad found the letter addressed to Ns on. It would be cowardly to try to father. But that he would never do change it now. Indeed it would have and the letter had not been discovered been Impossible with the dlsappesranyway. He did not even regret the ance of the written protests and notes, bold falsehood he had uttered or the Even If Shurtllff bad been willing, aaj practical subornation of perjury of one would have believed a delayed rewhich he had, been guilty In drawing traction and explanation, and ShortUffl out end accenting and emphasizing would not have been willing Meade ShurtllfTa testimony. , well knew. Neither for that matter There had been no Inquest over N* was Meade himself. He was glad thalj father’s death. The autopsy had the affair had been settled and would showed clearly heart failure. He had not change It even now though Wtonot been competed to go on the witness ten' rough-and-ready presentation of! atond and undefe* oath as to thaL Al- the sitnatlon disquieted him. though, if that had been demanded, he Winters, who saw how greatly overs must needs have gone through with IL wrought and unstrung Ns friend v Indeed so prompt and public had been contented himself with the aa ““ Ns avowals of responsibility that he He did not press the point or a had not been seriously questioned with Nm. He rested quietly c thereon. He had left nothing uncer- that matters would right thet tain There was nothing concealed. some way In the long run. He treated! He had Inherited a competence from Meade exactly rigbL He left him to hla father. It was Indeed much more his own devices. Ho did not force hlfi than he or anyone had expected. He company upon him. Sometimes the eohad realized enough ready money from glneer would mount a horse—and an the r-le of certain securities for Ns nt the ranch were at Ns disposal—and present needs. The remainder he would ride away Into the woods and placed In ShurtllfTs care and a few mountains with a camping ontflL Soma^ days after the funeral, bavin* nettled times he would be gone for several everything possible, he took a train for da.v*. coming back wNte and haggard the WesL anil exhausted hut victor In soma hard Tl. -hale —rid ™ brtor, blm. ^ •nd b. W.. measurably Ui»W«r -lib On. d« there reus, to th. reach • sreuy porttod. ot It. He could hov !Mt«r to winter, from Bodnar. Ml o< burled hlnsselt In out-of-tbo-war eor triradly coat and pleasant rr.rt.al* nera of far countries, in strange contl ficence. .,, ^i, — - - -• nento. These possibilities did not attract Nm. He wanted to get away , from, ont of touch with, the life ho had t led. He wished to go to aom* place London's “Savon Dials." -where he conld be practically alone. | ytie Seven Dim* In l.omlon Is a place where he could have time to recover * here seven t-iroet* branch off—vis: Ns poise, to tNnk things ouL to plan i. Great Ear! afreet: 2. Little Eeri Ns future, to try to devise a means for otrect; 3. Great St. Andrew's street;

rehabilitation. If It were possible. He could do that Just aa well, perhaps better, In America than In any place else. And there was another reason that held him to hla native land. Ha would still tread the same soil, breathe tho Game air, with tha woman. He did not desire to put sen* between them. He swore to himself that the freedom he had offered her, that he had Indeed forced upon her unwilling and rejecting IL ahonld b? no empty thing so far aa be was concerned. He would leave her absolutely un trammeled. He would not write to her or communicate with her In any way. He would not even »eek her to hear about her and of coarse as she would not know wNther he had gone or where he was she could not communicate with Nm. The silence that had fallen between them should not bo broken even forever unless and until— Ah, yea, he could imt see any way to complete that “unless and until" at first. Uut perhaps

after a while he mlgbL

He knew exactly w here he would go. Dick Winters, another classmate and devoted friend at Cambridge, had gone

4. Uttie St. Andrew'* street; 5. Gr« Whit* Lion street: tl Uttie WNte Lion street; 7. Queen street. Jbe long croaa ■tone which stood lu the middle canter wa* seven uquure at ttie top, with

a dial on each square-

It Dims Happen. "I don't think the truth of that Cinderella storj- ever came ouL" “No?" “I think she took off her slipper bs cause It hurt her. Uve seen ladle* do thst lu restaurants many a time."— Kan*a- City Journal.

Sometimes The/ Are. “Are women funny?" asks an exchange. Well, w-c know one about fifty year* of age who trie* to look aa though she were about eighteen.—Macon Telegraph. Motorcar Tire Casings. Before putting on a tire easing wipe It out carefully with e moist rag. to Insure Hint the Inner tube will not be damaged by dirt or sand lodged In tba

ont reortlr .ner nrebretion. U.| „ b „ a „ k „

bnd . b , retu. nreeb miles Horn . ; railroad In a young southwestern state.

Winter*, like the other member of tho The straight and narrow path jm t youthful triumvirate, Rodney, waa a wide enough for some veople. bachelor. He could be absolutely do-1 Remade, pended upon. He had often begged ; --He used to ciuiiu that be was a sail

Meade to visit Nm. The engineer: „*„ • would do It now. He knew Wlnten ! ..y eK ..

would respect hla moods, that he would , huv ,. ll , hlls rater to

let him severely alone, that he could

get on a horse and ride Into the hills ’ l “ at f:lct ln!, ‘ •'

and do what he pleased, think out Ns " Nl '- l " , ‘ Ja "< b,w * k 1 *" - ■i thoughts undisturbed. I they've will: -'. remade him. The Jos To Winters, therefore, he had gone, j he did « «« far from mtlsfai-tory to the He had an Idea that hla future would i expert* Detroit Free I'reas. be outside of engineering. Indeed he Tide and Time, hod put all thought ot Ns choser pro- Contrary perhaps t., ibe Idea cotnfendon out of Ns mind and heart ot BOO ]j i u .'id, t| u . • u.l. h; • • lirisunaaleaat *o be fancied. Yet spending an tklF' and ' Yuletid.- ' ha* no allusion

Idle forenoon In Chicago waiting for whatevr

He Debated With Himself Whether It Would Not Be Bette* to End It Than to Live. Kluee that bitter farewell between Bertram Meade and Helen llllnjrworth over the grave of the old engineer. Uf« had s-fined to hold absolutely nothing for Meude as he knelt by that low im-und and wotchnl the woman walk slowly away with many a hark ward glance, with many n pn'ue. obviously reluctant. He r.-aliR'd that the lifting Of a hand would have called her buck. Hon hard It was for Nm to remain qul< !; and. Dually, before she disappeared “nd before she t sik her tort look »t him. to turn hi* lack resolutely *a If to mark the termination of the situation. Fkihgi. fame, reputation, 1ot«, taken

the departure of the western train, he found himself irresistibly drawn to the great ateel-framed structure*, the skyscraper* lining gaunt and rigid above the other building* ot the city. Again the train was delayed and held up for halt an hour Just aa It nached the Mississippi river. He left hla acat lu the dining car. Ns dinner nnraten on tbe table, to go out and Inspect the bridge during tha half-hour that the “limited" lay Idle. The next day oome enormous irrigation works In western Nebraska so engrossed N* attention aud arouM-J hla Interest that In spite of himself he stopped over between trains to aee them. And these

actions were typical.

Yet after every one of thee excursion* back Into hla own field. Ns conscience smote him. Was he never to get away from this engineering 1 IVar Hum nothing «lae for him bat brick

period \

synonym ft familiar old wait for no

«*• merely a Thus in th* “Tline and tide tint two noun* •me idea. They

tor emphasis, as <1 fa«hloned alUt-

EBge." "kith ami kin." “rack aud ruin." -Youth's Companion. "The Cape May County Time*" is n *ale each i'ri lay at the following laces: Office oi publication, 104 West Jerry avenue. Sea Isle City. Louis lira-a. Ocean avenue. Sea Isle

Sty.

Sea Isle Pharmacy. Landis and West

Sea Isle City.

Jersey avei SabecriU

for the Gap* May Uonh-