CAPE MAY COUNTY 7IMT.C. REA ISLE CITY. V. J.

MowPundier

Disabled Soldiers andj^ DeeoTvsi'ructior

CHAPTER XII.—Continued. —15— -Urn. foon be well, don't jon think. ir.l«terl He «« td ** ^nld be well »h,.n th ’ holiday*—" i;ut rv.vc'a expression stopped the jov. whole own lace went suddenly .lid wilt fear. “He la well now. Charlie," 10 said, as steadily as be rockl. *1: la all holiday* now for ! The ma ch had burned ont and the room ws In utter darkness. Dave hrtird t!.e child drawiny his feet i, n >s ti e floor, then suddenly whlm-p.-rtcy like a thin* that had been mortally hur. He proi«ed toward him. an: at length his finders fou id his shock of hair. He drew the boy •lowly In a hlr arms; then very, very tipht . • • After all, they were or,hans leather. -You .ill come with me," he said at lend!. “I will see that yon are provided for. The doctor will anon hr here, or we will meet him on th* way. am he will make the arracce ir-ii* t—the arranfrements that ha..- .o be made, yen know.” They retraced their steps toward the town, raeetlnp doctor at the broken bridjce. Dave ex chanced a few words with him In low tones, and they passed on. Soon they were swlnylns acslc th-ouph the elty streets. Even with the developmenttof the evening pressing heavily upon his mind Dave could not resist the temptation to atop and listen for a moment to bulletins being read through a megaphone. “The kaiser ha* stripped off hit, British regalia." said the announcer. “He says he will never a*aln wear a British uniform.’ A chuckle of derisl-e largbter ran through the mob; then someone struck up a well-known refrain—“Whet the b do we care'" Up and down the street voices caught np the chorus. . . . Within a year the bones of msny In that houghtleaa crowd, bleaching on the Helds of FTander*. showed bow much they cared. Dave drove direct to the Hardy home. After some delay Irene met him at the door, and Dave cxnlalned the situation In a few words. "We must lake core of Wm. Beetle." he said. “I feel a personal responsibility.” “Of coarse we will take him," she BDMvered. “lie will live here until we have a—some place of our own." Her face was bright with somethin* which must be tenderness. “Bring him upstairs. We will allot him c room and introduce him first to—th-' bathroom. And tomorrow we ahal! have an excursion downtown, and get some new clothes for Charlie—El-, den." As they moved np the stairs Conward. who bad been In another room •n conversation with Mrs. Hardy, followed them unseen. The evening had | been interminable for Conward. For three hours he had awaited word that | hi* victim had been trapped, and for | three Pours no word had come. If i his plans had miscarried, if Dave had . discovered the plot, well— And here at length was Dave, engrossed In a very different matter. Conward followed the.a np the stairs. Irene and Dave chatted wiin the boy for a few moments, then Irene lurried to some arrangements for his comfort and Dave started downstair*. In the puasage he was met by Conward. "What are yon doing here7' Dave demanded, as he felt his head beginning to swim In anger. Conward leeced only the more offensively. and walked down the stairs Ix-side him. At the foot he coolly lit another cigarette. He held the match liefore him and calmly watched It hum out. Then be extended it toward Dave.' “Yon remember our wager, Elden. i present you with—a burned-out match." "You liar!" cried Dave. “You infam'ins llarl" "Ask her." Conward replied. “She will deny It, cf course. All women

do."

Dave felt bis muscles tighien. and knew that In a moment he would tear his victim to piece*. A* hi* clenched fist came to the side of his body a. struck something hard. His revolver! I!- hnd forgotten; he was not in the habit of carrying It. In an Instant he hod Conward covered. Dave did not press the trigger at or.ee. He took a fierce delight In torturing the man who had wrecked hi* hfe—even while he told him*, if he could not believe bis boast. Now be watched the color fade from Conward's cheek; the eyes' stand out lt> bis face; the livid blotches more llvlo ■till; the cigarette drop from his nert.-iess lip*. “You ar» a brave man. Conward." he said, and there was the rasp of hate and contempt In bis voice. “You are a very brave man." Mr*. Hardy, sensing something wrong, came out frost her silting room. With a little cry she swooned away. Conward tried to apeak, but words stuck in hi* thro*t. With a dry

* In »i»ll, Ct nwantj” J way i

Dave continued. Tve always bad some doubt myself, but In thirty sec onda—you'll know." Irene appeared on the stairway For a moment her eyea refused tr grasp the scene before them: Conwnrd -owering terror-stricken; Dav fierce, steely, implacable, with his re volver lined on Conward's brain. Through tome atrauge whim of her mind her thought in that Instant flew back to the bottles on the posts of the Elden ranch, end Dave breaking five out of six on the gallop. Then suddenly she became aware of thing only. A tragedy was being enacted before her eyes. “Oh. don’t. Dave! Don’t, don’t shoot him!” she cried, flying down toe remaining steps. Before Dav cou'.d gnisp her purpose site was upon him. hnd clutched hi* revolver, hnd wrapped her arms about his. “Don't, don't. Dave!" she pleaded. “For my sake don't do—that!" Her word* were tragically unfortunate. For a moment Dove stood as one paralysed; then his heart dried np within him. “So that'* the way of It!" he said, ns he broke her grip, and the horror In hlr own eye* would not let him read the sadden horror in hers, right; take It." and he placed the revolver In her bond. “You should know what to do with It.” And before she could atop him be had walked ont of the hoose. She rushed to the gate, but ready the roar of his motor was lost In the hum of the city'* traffic. CHAPTER XIII. When Dave sprung Into hi* enr he gave the motor a full bead or. i drove through the city streets In a fury of recklessness. HU mind was numbed It was Incapable of assorting thoughts and placing them in proper relationship tc one another. He was soon ont of the city, roaring through the still autumn night with umiitolcished

speed.

Over tortuous country rotds, across sudden bridges, along slippery hlUridcs. through black bluffs of scrub land—in some strange way be tried drown the uproar In hia soul in the frenzy of the steel that qnlvcred be-

Hg Took a Fierce Delight In Torturing the Man Who Had Wrecked 'Us

Life.

neath him. )n and on Into the night. Bright stars gleamed overhead; a soft breeze pressed against his face; It was ruch a night as he had driven, n year ago. with Bert Morrison. Was tba‘ only a year ago? And what had liapp<-ueo? Where had he been? Oh. to bring the bo>—Charlie, the boy. Wb;® was that? Under the calm heaven his mind was already attempting to establish a sequence to set Its outraged home again In order. Suddenly the cor skidded on a slippery hillside, turned from the road, plowed through a dump of scrub, (leocbetted against i. dark obstruction, poised a inom -nt on tw< wheels, turned around, and stopped. The shods Brought Dave to his sense*. He sat on the ironing board and stared for a long while into the darkness. “No use being a d—-d fool, anyway. Dave." be said to himself at length. "I got It—where I didn’t expect It—but I guess that's the way wit*: everyone.” He tried to philosophize; to get a fresh grip on himself. “Where are we. anyway?" he continued. ’This country looks familiar." He got up again and walked about, finding his way back to the rood. He went along it a little way. Vague impressions suggested that be should know the spot, and yet he could not IdeJtlfy 1L Then, with a sudden shock. It came to him. It was the hillside on which Doctor Hardyhad Come to grief; the hillside on which he had first seen her bright

. her

lerful

grief engulfed him. his cheap philosophies. 1. young and clean and -list before him In an he wonderful days of

He started his motor, and even In his despair felt a thrill of pride as tin faithful ge. -a engaged and the ea: climbed back to Its place on the trail. Was nil faithfulness, then. In things ol steel and Iron, and none In flesh and blood? He followed the trail. Why stop now? The long-forgotten ranch buildings lay across the stream and behind the tongue of spruce trees, nn-b-AS some wandering foothill fire had destroyed them. He forded the stream without difficulty. That was where he had ca.-rled her out. ... He felt 1U« way slowly along the old fence. That was where she had set np bottles for hla marksmanship. . . . — stopped where the straggling gate should be and walked carefully Into the yard. That was where she had first called him Dave. . . . Then he found the doorstep and sat down

to wait.

When the sun wa* well np he arose and walked about HI* Ups were parched; be found himself nibbling them with his teeth, so he went to the stream. He was thirsty, but he drank only a mouthful; the water was flat and Insipid. . . . The old cabin was In better repair than he would hav. thought He sprung the door open It was musty and strung with cobweb*. Kc did not go In but sat down and tried to Jilnk. Later b* walked up the canyon. H< mnst have walked swiftly, for the sun was not yet at the meridian when hr found himself at the Uttle nook In the rock where he and Irene had sat that afternoon when they had first laid their heart* open to each other. Suddenly one remark Jtood up In his memory "The day Is eomlng." she had said, “when our country will want men who can shoot and ride.” And be had said. “V.'ell. when It does It can call on roe.' And today the country did want men who could shoot and ride, and he had flown into the foothills to nurse a broken heart. . . . Broken hearts tain fight as well ns whole oner. He could be of some use yet. At any there was a way out Some whim led him through the grove of spre-re trees on his way back to the ranch. Here. In an open space, he looked about, kicking In the dry grass. At length his toe disturbed few bleached bones, and be stood and looked with unseeing eyes far across the shimmering valley. •'Brownie." he said at length. “Brownie.” The whole scene came back upon him—the moonlight, and Irene's distress, and the Uttle bleeding body. And he had said ho didn't know anything about the Justice of God; all be knew was the critter that couldn't run **-rs the one that got caught . . And he had said that was life. ... He bad add It waa only nature. And then they had Mood among the trees and beneath the white moon and pledged their faith. . . . Again his head went an and the old Lght flashed In his eyes. “The first thing is to kill the wolf." he said aloud. “No other innocent shall fall to hla fangs. Then—my couutry. - ’ Darkness had again fallen before Dave found his car threading the streets of the city, still feverish with its newborn excitement of war. He returned his car to the garage; an attendant looked np curiously—It was evident from his glance that Dave had already been missed—but no words were exchanged. He stood for a moment In the street collecting his thoughts end rehearsing his resolves. He was amazed to find that, even In his bitterness, the city reached a thousand hands to him—hands of habit and association and customs of mind—all urging him baca into the old groove; all saying: "The routine la the thing. Be a spoke In the wheel; go round with the rest of ut." he reminded himself. “No. I can't do that 1 have basic era on hand. First—*o kill the wolf" He remembered that he had given hla revolver to Irene. And suddenly sat with him again at the tea table. . . . When: waa ht? Yes, he had given hla revolver to Irene. Well, there was another In bis room*. In the hallway of the block In which he had hi* bachelor apartment* Dave almost collided with n woman. He drew back, and the light fell on hla lace, bnt hers was In the shadow. And then he beard her voice. “Oh. Dave, I'm so glad— Why. what has happened?" The last words ran Into a little treble of pain as she noted his haggard face. “Yon—Edith?" he managed to say. 'Whatever—" She came toward him and placed her hand* on hia. “Fve been acre a hundred times—over since morning— er since Bert Morrison called up to say you had disappeared—thet there vaa some mystery. There isn't. Is there. Dave? You're all right, Dave, aren't you, Dave?' r/O BE CONTINUED.)

(Yltb

e Hardy. There was no

Pacific Coast Line. The United States. wMi its Islands, has n greater Pacific toast Une than my other nation, possibly equal to those of China and Japan combined, says Gas Logic.

yi EBE Is not one of the reI turned disabled who doe* 1 not say all the time be Is | in any one of tbe sixteen I reconstruct I oa hospital* that his discharge I* what ISnHRSn he wants most tmd he will on ••J'UC ** after he * ■' gets it and arrive* home. He means it. of course, but it is after the fashion to say It anyway. Toe array of Inconvenience* that have been looming up ever since he turned from the victorious battlefield remind him that he wants “ouu" These are—sudden transfers from camp to camp, only one shl.n or one pair of sox. long delays In papers being si cued, uncertainty about war risk insurance paper*, uncertainty about physical condition, and all so.-ts of at toyance* In way of sameness in meals, much confinement, and having no way of using one's own Inltlstlve and doing things for one's self. Of course, this array of Inconveniences was as much in sight when he was an active soldier, but he didn't see them. Although these continually tickle the soldier’s desire for discharge, they do not keep him from the larger Influence of reconstruction, which has made such an atmosphere ’.tat he writes back after he’s out and at bor * ihat he's a bit lonely, and he tu^y add something that shows his courage—(for his letters always have this In them) —Is not understood. Indeed, he will write back anything be feels, for he has an understanding of the reconatrnctlo.. folk and thev of him. This reconstruction program, as carr.ed out I t the Hospital* for the returned disabled. Is one of the most unusual and unique happenings of the war period. Perha|>* no port of the war situation Is more dramatic than this, and In the written history It will occupy some of the most Interesting

pages.

Meanwhile this drama of refitting the disabled for life Is still going on. The workers hove been selected from the application* requested by the surgeon gen ral'* office at Washington of thonsand* of person*, largely women, qualified tor this work, and more than C.000 women have been appointed. They have come from country, town and city. The large majority are trained In arts and crafts, for their first duty Is to occupy bed patients with handwork, and their second to give the convalescent something to do that will help to cure a stiffened mnscle or to tench one hand to do what both hands previously did. Some are specialists In some craft, like Jewelry making, basketry, wood carving, leather tooling or rug weaving. Sc-ne an* specialists In art. and teach poster painting and designing. Others a-e general craft workers and h the tr. a to make bead chains, ha -keta and anything he would liky for almselt or at home. Another group are stem raphers and teach shorthand and typing. Another are teachers for reading, writing. arithmetic, or on up through the college subjects. Rtlll another (th* se are men) teach subjects like agriculture. anto-mcchanlcs, printing, etc. Finally, a group with entirely different training do massaging to restore the functions .if muscles and nerve*. So the reconstruction worker* come from the nation at large and. then-- ! fore It’s the whole American people 1 that are helping this soldier to get settled again. Now tnere wouldn't he much drama or much of anything else to the Juh reconstruction If each pet-icon Just did the bit that Uncle 8am assigned him to do. But he. or rather she. doesn't and that Is why the soldier writes back and that's why there's a real story to tell—one thal might be reacted In any part of any community or In any college or university, but never in full again until there Is an-

br-

other occasion like the recent war. ! any one thing tbst Is being done by Let the render picture this story ns any one of them—and It forces the It Is taking 1*1 see In the largest of the I mer who e.re about recovered and who reconstruction hospitals. Stsrilng In do not need *o lenru a trade, to bo-

the office and lecture room of the Aria come very ambitious.

and crafts worker*—women dressed In blue uniform* with snappy white apron* and caps—one feels an expansive atmosphere. It’s like a big business office and a store combined. One of these workers, ns she takes you down long corridor No. 1, to the ward* and workshop*, assures you that the making of the article Is the least part of their work, and tint although a strong organization has been built by the members of her group connecting up with all the large clubs and organizations outside the hospital that can help out and bring opportunities to the men. etill tuts Is all kept In the background while the worker—the aide or bluebird, as the men call her—gets In dose touch with the patients and keeps herself as much like a home person as possible. She will he a bit excited while telling you this. l»ecar*e she knows how hard It Is In the army to keep these workers under the necessary regulations and routine and at the same time make them feel free and forceful enough to help a patient find contentment and vocational Interest. She knows that she can't explain this, and «o gets stirred up a bit. and then calms herself, and is ready to cuter the large workshop* and point out to yon what is really happen-

ing.

It's easy enough for you to *ee that the man with his arm In a slinr is learning to use hs* other hand in making the ret-i lamp: that the man who stands at n footloom exercises hi* crippled hip In the reaching: that the poster work 1* more than interesting pastime for the fine-locking young man whom you ore told has been gassed ; that the wood carver I* restoring the use of stiffened fingers, and that the

In this shop, where only the -convalescent come, the aide doesn't find so much t- do to keep the men contented. Away from her ward In this broader atmosphr-e they are more patient about home difficulties and willing to face the responsibility of managing the home farm for « parent more disabled than the son. not only with good cheer, but with real forethought—one rakn stating that his responsibility was so great that he really couldn't afford tho time to get lined up in dairying. , Across In a second corridor the men are tick. The aide says: “Oh, so sic . with such awful wounds to be dressed." Therefore, she see* that each man gets In touch with the Red Cross, or representative jf tho war risk Insurance, or whatever will satisfy him. Betty troubles bother. He can hardly pass by any Inronveni-nc*-* of hospl.al service with a sm'le—though the smile la the usual rc*i>onse. One of the tilings the reconstruction aide ha* stood for that ha* made her organization strong and perhaps done more thau anything else to win for her the deep respect of .he patients. Is the policy of her organization to look after little wants, the Idea being to avoid treating a man In piecemeal fashion. So through a “want card" she checks off the man's needs and *ends this along to whatever organization—Bed Cross. T. 11. C. A., library—whose business !.» to look after these. These may be an aut ride or a v<-tior. or candy, or smokes. It has taken so ronrh effort to give this balanced service and to be the connecting link between the man's army and Chilian life, to always be on the hopeful side, that she has won the confidence of the men—Just ns If she, too. had gone over the top It serv-

I'ncle Sam didn’t tell her t

Idler Is at least In a good atmosphere, j lhu bl „ , n th |„ | arBe hospital she h

But the bigger Influence of all this

wholly hidden from the nnlorker. Every oue of these men Is studying something tlmt will help him In hi* trade.

taking courses In correspond-

it. and It has made reconstruction one of the biggest Influences In

war work.

The reader will hardly realize what It means for these men to take this

once schools, getting ready for a few | Initiative until he remembers that for months* training when they get ont. mon’hs. ever since they left home, they One of these has been a lumberman, have been asked to let go of all their hut his disability Is such that he mnst own pinna, to forget ambition, to let !• ve a less active Job. At present he others think personally for them, and Is not decided w hether he will learn ; to submit to 'he will of others. Tbeaa to Ik a foreman In managing lumber- | soldiers wer not Just to play at letting men—for he really knows this work of go. They had really let go. otherwise the woods and has personality—or they could not look constantly toward

whether he will take the course necessary to make him a draughtsman. The aide has hronght him all the information she can get her hand* on. and more—she has got him In touch with

who know about both vocations, of the men who Is losing his eyesight permanently is learning right In the shop—reed Wi

doll's cradle has l^s n done so well j work as the discharged taen return, that a firm has promised him a Job Tbe firs' step Is understanding the ns he's a bit more proficient. 1 men. It Is what they crave most. On Ad these thing* that the different men this account the Influence of reconare doing for themselves seem to cro | mructlon it. the mllltarv hospitals cte an Inspiring Influence—bigger than j should be known by the public.

one Iden—that of the reason for the war. and the way to win It. So when It's over. It'!; like bringing cue's self back to life again. No wonder there

Is drama in this work.

This reconstcactioa program Is being carried out by trained workers from trade I among the people. It remains for the A home communities to continue the

Bees as. Architects A famous mathematician of tin early eighteenth century who perceive) that the bottoms of the cells In r beehive were formed by three lozenge-shaped plates measured the angles of the lozenges. The greater were 100 deg. ?8 win, the lesser, 70 deg. 32 min. .Vnc.her man of science, marveling tbe precision of the angles, [ founded the followin' problem

Koenig, the geometrician: “What are, pi** i or Natural Hlatory the angles of n hexagonal cell with a j x,e content ourselves with a knowlpyramldtcal bottom formed of throe edge of the tongues, and a hide *k'll similar and equal rhomboid plates | In philology, or bUtor... i-erhaps, and

iquity; and n<-glei-i that which to

| that require the least possible nmle- | rlulT Koenig, ignorant of whet had j suggested the problem, found by cal- | cuius that the greater angle* of 'he rhombs should be 109 deg. 28 min. nud the lesser angles. 70 deg. 34 min. ] He wav wrong by two minutes In each i dimension. What human architect ha* j equaled be economy of the bee*?—

I Youth's Companion.

turn! history. I do

■rial. 1 mean i t discommend c other studies;

this. ’ wish that this rough! In fashion among