The Saint Jo Tribune. (Saint Jo, Tex.), Vol. 22, No. 5, Ed. 1 Friday, December 26, 1919 Page: 3 of 8
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ST. JO
WHITE MAN
By GEORGE AGNEW CHAMBERLAIN
Author of “HOME,- "THROUGH STAINED GLASS." “JOHN BOGARDUS," ETC.
*G**yrt*ht. lllg. by Bobbs-Morrill Co.)
iff!
WHITE MAN 18 DEAF TO ANDREA'S PLEADINGS.
i. .AndreVPellor. handsome daughter of Lord Pellor, Impecunious aristocrat.
~,“.aTry an ullteraU but wealthy middle-aged diamond mine owner,
■ne disconsolately wanders from her hotel In South Africa and discovers an
aviator about to fly from the beach. Impulsively, of course Imagining that the
trip wim be merely a pleasant excursion, and a welcome relief from thoughts
of her loveless marriage, she beg* to be taken for a flight, although she does
lot know him. He somewhat unwillingly agrees, and they start. When she
realises her unknown aviator la not going back Andrea In desperation tries to
choke him with one of her stockings. He Uiwarta her and they sail on Into
the very heart of Africa. Landing In an immense craal, Andrea finds the
natives all bow In worship to hsr mysterious companion. She Is given a slave
boy, "Bathtub," and the Whits Man sets about building a hut for her. Andrea
Is given a glimpse of the home which Is to ha hers, and wonders at Its com-
pleteness.
CHAPTER III.—Continued.
“Tell your master that I shall come
lit ten minutes,” she said, watched him
go and closed the door after him.
Then she turned and hurried to the
little mirror on the wall. She flushed
with anger ns she looked at herself.
The excitement coupled with the heat
had made her forget her Inappropriate
garb.
She rehung the looking glass and
looked around for Implements of toi-
let On the little table lay a comb
and a single military brush, looking
lonely without Its mate. There were
also a tin of powder, the common
sprinkler variety that men use, a fresh
bottle of dental lotion and a sealed
box, proclaiming Itself In loud type
the container of the only perfect
toothbrush.
“Not so bad,” reflected Andrea, and
went to work to make the best of what
was already one of God’s choicest
creations. But when she had finished
the wonderful result only angered
her. The Incongruity of sitting down
thus garbed to an open-air camp din-
ner at half past five in the afternoon
and face to face with a man In appro-
priate khaki, outraged her very accu-
rate judgment ns to what was fitting.
Suddenly she remembered her cloak.
She rushed to the door and called to
Ba'htub. Ho came on the run, re-
ceived her orders aud a moment later
fetched the all-concealing garment,
«till warm from Its sun bath. An-
siren put It on, her bare shoulders
ahrtnktng from Its hot touch.
Beneath the acacia gleamed the
white table set for two. Near It sat
the man, nursing patience with a ciga-
rette as Is the way of the waiting
male. He arose as Andrea drew near
and threw his cigarette away. He was
clothed In the full dress of the trop-
ics—csvhite mess jacket, black tie,
white waistcoat, black trousers, silk
hose and pumpu. Clean shaven, balr
well brushed, he had dotted the I’s
and crossed the t’s of etiquette aud
stood for six feet of the best brand
of unconscious gentleman.
Andrea stopped several paces away
aqd gazed at him. Her eyes filled sud-
denly with tears and her heart swelled
In the quick answer of the generous
to the thoughtful. She drew near and
said In a voice that trembled slightly,
’Tou are considerate In all—little
things.”
She raised both hands to her throat,
unhooked her cloak and let It slip
from her shoulders. For an Instant
his eyes were those of a man of her
Then he came back In one swift up-
ward sweep and met her own gaxe,
squarely, steadily. She drew a deep
breath. Something sustaining had
come Into the white man’s gray-blue
eyes, something you could lean upon
He was suddenly not of her old world.
“I am afraid the soup is a little
cold,” he said as he stepped around
to draw her chair for her.
The dinner was good beyond the
cachet of mere gross appetite, and
It was served with a rapidity and
smoothness that would have done
credit to the oldest of the Pellor but-
lers.
“Your servants are well trained,”
said Andrea.
“Each has little to do,” said the
man. “He must do It well. That, In-
cidentally, Is the secret of getting
satisfactory work out of an African.”
“Is It?” said Andrea absently. “I’ve
always heard they were a shiftless
lot and that a white man could do the
work of ten niggers.”
“So he can, ordinarily,” answered
the man, almost as absently, “but
there are times when ten ‘boys,’ picked
‘boys’—” He stopped as If he were
lost In some far reminiscence.
A silence fell to the end of the meal,
which coincided with the sudden end
of the tropic day.
The man spoke to the servants for
the first time. They cleared the
table, aet it again with glasses and
liqueurs, cigars, cigarettes and coffee,
and moved it slightly to one side.
Then, from the nearby hut, they
brought out two cushioned wicker
chairs, home-made but comfortable.
Andrea sank Into hers with'a peculiar
feeling of well-being mixed with sus-
pense, The man sat down opposite
her, the table within easy reach of both
but not between them. Something
swayed* with a Jerk above their heads.
Andrea, startled, looked up just In time
to see an enormous white disk unroll
from Its edges, letting fall In a circle
around them a snowy mesh of bob-
blnet.
They, and all they needed for com-
fort, became enclosed In an Insect-
proof cage that swayed softly to the
evening stir of air. The servants
weighted down Its edges with flat
stones and then lit two acetylene
lamps that stood outside on stands
placed at right angles to the couple
within the net so that the eyes of both
were spared the glare.
The man poured coffee and liqueurs,
lit Andrea’s cigarette, chose a cigar
for himself and sat down. During the
coffee they eyed each other In silence,
taking each other’s measure. “It Is too
bad,’’ he said finally, “that we can’t
take this hour for Itself alone And
drink together a cup of peace and
stillness and comfort.”
His words were half a question and
It was so that Andrea understood them.
She drew a deep sigh, shrugged her
bare shoulders and turned squarely to
her companion. “It Is too bad,” she
said, repeating bis words with bitter
emphasis, “that I can’t forget thet on
this night I lose everything that mat-
ters—too bad I can’t brush catastrophe
and ruin aside for the sake of a fool
moon and a cigarette.”
As she spoke, the man braced him-
self. “Everything that matters," he
repeated. “Ruin I What have yon lost
that matters! Wherein have yon been
ruined?”
The girl stared at him, open-eyed.
“Yon know who I am, what I stand
for In my world, and how that world
Will make a chasm that I can never
n cross after this night and you «an
si? there and say It doesn^t matter and
ask where’s the ruin?”
The man looked away from
face. “The things that
said qu'etly, "are health—first i
and the* of soul—honor that i
alone, a tv? the flame of so
There Is nothing else that really <
and you’ve Inst none of
turned his
was a
realised this almost juboonsclously.
Her thoughts lingered on the substance
of what he bad said, but when she
spoke she proved herself a woman.
“Speaking of names, what la yours?"
she asked.
"Ulne? My name?” said the man,
startled out of his role. He stared
absently through and beyond her.
"Why, I haven’t any—now. Not that
amounts to anything.” His eyes came
back to her. “Call me Mr. White Man
as yon have begun—Just White Man
when you feel genial, If you ever do.”
“Well, Mr. White Man,’’ said Andrea,
with emphasis, “what you said nbont
ruin didn’t pass quite over my head.
I believe you spoke with genuine sin-
cerity and that, as you doubtless re-
member, Is conversational bad taste.
Somehow U didn’t bore me, but do you
really think that women are persuaded
by words?’’
The man dropped bis eyes. “No,”
he said listlessly. “I don't. I know,
but I had forgotten, that women are
persuaded by love alone.”
“What!” cried Andrea.
“Women,” said the man, “know no
conversion except through love.”
“I have no interest whatever In your
abstractions,” said Andrea angrily. “I
don’t care what you think on any sub-
ject nnder the sun. At this moment
there Is only one thing that concerns
me—only one.” She turned from him,
threw her bare arms across the table
and dropped her face against them.
“What is to become of me? What do
I care about women? I care about
myself, about Andrea Pellor.”
“I am glad that you do,” said the
man, and added grimly, “If you cry.
If you even start to cry, I shall go
to bed.”
Andrea threw back her head and
turned her face toward him. "I am
not crying,” she said qtfletly, “and I
will not”
Her anger had died and In Its place
had come into her eyes something ter-
ribly potent, the unforgettable ook
of a hunted thing at bay.
“I want to ask you,” continued Aw-
drea, “to Implore you, to take me bnck.
If not tonight, then tomorrow. Flying
or on foot, If only we could start now.
I will say that it has all been my fault,
that you did nothing beyond what I
asked you to do In bringing me with
you, If only—If only you will take me
back. Will you?”
The man clenched his teeth. “I
would If I could. I’ve told you that
already,” he said almost In a whisper.
Then his voice grew clearer and colder.
“It would take eight days by any
means at my disposal—eight days
there and eight days back. I can’t
afford It and nothing would be saved
or gained ns far as you are concerned.
It would only entail a loss I have no
right to give.”
His mood hardened Andrea’s. “You
mean that when It comes to choosing
between my personal loss and yours,
you see no reason to hesitate.”
The man flushed under his tnn and
his eyes gleamed as though her words
had given them new life. “Mine would
not bn a personal loss,” he said. “I
am not q loafer nor am I here for my
pleasure.”
“I see,” said Andrea. "My life
against the Interests of your employer.
Are you a foreman?”
Ha shrugged his shoulders and Ig-
nored the question. “Your life?” he
said. “What are you worth, after all?
The best specimen of woman In this
camp represents an Investment on the
part of the husband of two pounds
ten shillings—say three pounds at the
most Every girl child she bears and
rears brings him a hundred per cent
return, and in addition sbe keeps house,
cooks, chops wood, totes water and
tills bis fields.”
Again Andrea jerked him out of his
role with her inconsequence. "What
does tote mean?” she asked rather Icily.
“To tote means to carry, fetch, lug,
bear—”
“Thank you,” she Interrupted. “By
the way, did you mean to measure me
against that three-pound standard?”
“I did," said the man.
She threw out her prms In a gesture
of disclosure aud laughed. "To think,”
she said, “that It’s only a few weeks
since I was knocked down to the high-
' twenty thousand a year!’’
1 said the man quickly,
ytng you. You never
I happen to know him.
than you do, and I can
tt the tinsel and tin-
innocent
have be-
by his
"Tell Your Master
in Ten
own world,
though they
Ic
"I’ve go? the face of (he earth tor
• pulpit," said the man easily, “and
1 couldn’t do with lean.”
”1 had suspected that there was
something colossal about you,” replied
Andrea quickly, “and now I know
k. It la your Impertinent self-suffl-
clency—"
“You misunderstood me,” Interrupted
the man, himself unmoved. "What I
mean by that flamboyant statement
was that no philosophy has evar lived
except through example and on# can’t
fulfill the creed of contrasts with laas
than* the whole world for a play-
ground.”
“And has It never tolled?"
His eyes wandered to tho half-
wrecked aeroplane. “Yes, It has failed
—once."
"A case of ‘physician cure’—" began
Andrea and stopped. His eyes had
swerved back to hers and the naked
look of regret In them frightened her.
“Well,” she continued, glancing away
hastily, “do you really want to—to
convert me?”
He started In his chair and If he
had been thinking of his personal
troubles, promptly forgot them. Had
It been merely a chance shot, he spec-
ulated, or was this young lady pos-
sessed of that rarest of virtues, a
quirk of mischief in the face of ad-
versity? “Wornos, know no conver-
sion except through love,” were the
exact words he had used. He recalled
“It's Only a Few Weeks Since I Was
Knocked Down to the Highest Bid-
der.”
them perfectly, and watching In silence
a telltale (lush rise from her bare neck
Into her hot cheeks, be perceived that
she also remembered.
“Oh t" cried Andrea, “I think you are
horrible.”
“I haven't said anything,” remon-
strated the man.
“That’s why,” snapped Andrea.
“You could have said something. You
keep quiet and give a beastly signifi-
cance—si gn Iflcance—”
lie helped ber out. “To a little
Joke,” he finished and added quite
gravely: “Be sure I shall do all In my
power not to convert you.”
CHAPTER IV.
The bent of the day had quite passed.
Andrea felt of her arms. They were
soft and cool. She laid them tin the
table and studied thtan ,as though she
never had noticed them before. She
was thinking tbat all har fright hnd
died away. She was alone with a man,
alone by over a hundred mllea and yet
—never had she felt less lonely, more
secure. Sho threw up her head, turned
to ner companion with a smile and
said, “I’ve decided not to snlk, White
Man. Tell me what your philosophy
will do for me If I give It a tryout.”
The man drew a long breath of re-
lief, examined the ash of his cigar and
flicked It off. “Flyst of all,” be began,
“It will lift a fever from you, the fever
of hastening from one little thing to
another. Look back and tell me If
your memories aren't all stock varie-
ties; I mean don’t they all toll Into
set and dry classifications?”
“I understand,” aald Andrea. “You
are an chucked Into about
ilka staples at a grocery.”
her a look of undisguised
Isi »enn exactly tbat.
gtvuy^lfeBMcret
mt
house quits
■
TV have then yemV ee k*|
afraid of thought la Itself, end
rou are freed of that fear yen wtt
find that sincerity caaeni te be esn-
varnational bad taste. U becomes
rather a weapon uie only probe that
can pierce the armor of Individual*
to* of course you knew that every per
soaalliy wears a shell, thick or thl*
dose-Joined or loose.”
She turned her eyas end leaked him
up end down fleetlngty. "What alas
wlU your philosophy do tor mar aba
asked.
“What riser he repeated. "It wfll
make you gloriously Independent—to
duce you to the three elements of con-
tent—health, honor and an Inner
flame.”
"Let’s begin with the Inner flam*”
she suggested. “It sounds mystic.”
"But It Isn't,” be replied. “It’s the
most practical thing In the world. Am-
bition, Illusion, youth, are a tow of Itr
commoner appellations, but the one
that comes nearest to Imprisoning It In
a phrase is, breath of life.”
Andrea studied him almost Impa-
tiently; Inwardly she was rebelling
tremendously at finding herself so con-
tinually Interested by one who was
even ut the moment calmly doing her
a great wrong. If he had spoken as
didactically about his precious phil-
osophy she would have found herself
at once; but he hadn't. In that point
more than In any other lay the charm
—charm? Well, call It charm, anyway
of this unusual male.
Having thought the matter out with
a view to hearing him browse anme
more, she said, “Can’t you bring it a
little nearer?”
"I’ll try,” he answered after a pause.
"Breath of life is that quality which
holds bnck a man from marrying lot
money and urges another to the de-
sertion of wife and children because
he’s bored, that mukes a preacher leap
from the pricking pinnacle of dogma
to the heart of the Red Light district
and his own destruction, that leads the
king-bull of the herd to Impatient pntlia
of lonely meditation. In short. It's
the perpetual vigilance of self at tha
apparent risk of the soul.”
“Sort of sublimated egoism," re-
marked Andrea.
“Selfishness, you mean?” He shook
his bead. “It's not even on that plane j
It’s so much over It that selfishness as
a quality Is merely one of the pebbles
on the beach below It tbat the w-a has
been grinding down to uniform chat*
notorieties for a hundred years. Alive,
It’s a flame; dead, it doesn’t evea leave
a corpse.”
Andrea yawned. “Now honor,” the
said.
“Won't you talk a little?” aald the
man. “Defining la a great game and
I don’t want to hog all the fun. Speak
for your class. What’s honor?”
Andrea thought for a minute; thee
she smiled. “With women, It’s keeping
nnyw&ere this side of the Uublcou.”
She paused
“And with men?” he urged.
“With men It’s tho art of not gab
ting caught.”
“Capital I” he exclaimed.
“Yes,” she murmured. **I thought
you would Uku those answers.* Ho
stared at her, but she kept her toco
Innocent of malice. “Now tell mo
what honor really Is.”
“I believe you could hove told me,”
he answered, “except tot the fact that
your exceptionally good teste bars
sincerity. It’s what Is left of morality
when you're sure no one la looking.”
Andrea stifled another yawn. “Sorao
of the things you say ” she gasped,
“are almost clever enough for a book
to read In bed.”
“I beg your pardon. I’m sorry,” said
the man and dapped his hands loudly.
A bundle under the tree, wrapped up
head and nil In a blanket, resolved It-
self into Bathtub rubbing sleep oat of
his dyes; arose, seized a rope on a
pulley and hauled. The circular no*
qulto net relied up from about the
table.
“Will you go to your room and tell
me if yoo have everything?” asked tha
man. “Everything necessary, I mean.”
Andrea goes on a
ing trip.
(TO BE CONTINUED.)
A Whistler Anecdote.
A certain duke commissioned Whig-
tier to paint his wife and infant son,
the Marquis of Exe. Whistler began
the painting, and after a while an-
nounced that no more sittings were
reanlrad, and tbe finished work would
be sent home In a few days. But days,
week* months, years passed and the
‘Ink# couldn't get bis picture. Flnallj
he caught Whistler In Pall Mall am;
afternoon and tbe painter said: "i
And tbat one more sitting la mcaaaary
If the duchess win bring Uia baby tt
my studio in Tito street some day next
w.-eb~F “Tbe duchess.” said the
du
to KILL COLDS
USCAftklQUININI
cold nmWjr lot tt ywn
■ I. — .dot form—oolc, cura, so
•slotci—brack* up • cold la M
k. hour*—ralir*** trip ic * dm.
Moser beck if It fail, too
k. fcsulmo boo bee • Bod
top with Mr. HWi
picture. '
At A tt Drug Scoroi
■—uia
Pipe Joint Cement.
A mixture of tea parts of Iron fil-
ings with three parts of chloride of
lime mixed to a paste with water
makes an admirable pipe Joint cement.
Tho mixture Is applied to the Joint
and the clamp and becomes solid la
twelve hours.
SWAMP-ROOT FOR
KIDNEY AILMENT?
There Is only on* medicine that really
etondc out pre-eminent ac a medicine for
curable ailmenta of tha kidney*, liver and
bladder.
Dr. Kilmer’e Swamp-Root ctandc tho
bighaat for the reason that it has proven
to be just tha remedy needed in thousands
jpon thousands of distressing eaaea.
Swamp-Root makes frienda quickly be-
cause its mild and immediate effect is soon
realised in most cease. It ii a gentle,
healing vegetable compound.
Start treatment at once. Sold at all
drug storea in bottle* of two alios, medi-
um and hugs.
However, if you wish first to test this
treat preparation aend ten cents to Dr.
Kilmer A Co., Binghamton, N. Y., for a
■ample bottle. When writing be sure and
mention this paper.—Adv.
Using a Wrench.
A monkey-wrench should never be
drawn backward from the Jaws, as
this movement Is likely to bend the
bar. The wrench should always be
pulled toward the Jaws.
Important to Mothoro
Examine carefully every bottle of
CAHTORIA, that fumous old remedy
for Infanta and children, and see that It
Bears the
Signature of|
In Use for Over JO Years,
Children Cry tor Fletcher's Castoria
iuu cauurcu, uuu uu&i u
It Might Have Happened.
Little Hollo—How could the last
straw break a camel’s hack, father?
Ills Father—He was Inhaling a mint
lulep through It at midnight on tho
30th of June and broke Ida buck reach'
Ing for the Inst drop.
Just say to your grocer Red Cross
Bull Blue when buying bluing. You
will |>e more than repaid by the re-
sults. Once tried always used. 6c.
Noting In.
The X-ray Is now being used to re-
/••ill to sclentlsta the Inner secrets of
plant structure.
KEEP IT HANDY
If you paid a specialist $2fi.00 for a
/irescrlptlon, you would not get any-
thing that would give quicker relief
for Croup, Catarrh, Colds, or Sore
Throat, than VACHER BALM, which
only costs 2Sc In Jars, or tulies.
Write for Samples and Agent’s
Prices. Beware of Imitations. E. W.
Yaclier, Inc, New Orleans, La.—Adv,
The other day I In-ard of a fellow
who fell Into a fortune so hard that
he went straight through It
Eczema
H
MONEY BACK
oftneiMiMi
dlv
ii n K i'
OYSTERO
Mad* from fresh, whole oy*l*r« with oalr
th« mul.lur, *vaporat*U by vacuum. Con-
tent* of on* rial makoe a pint »r Aallelea*
Will k‘
•yat*r broth.
h**s in<l"Unli*ly.
tbr«» vUI
2Se will bring von a Ii
postpaid. Send $1.*0 for four thro___
carton*, or II.M for display ennuinir with
I do«*n throe vial carton,, port paid.
J. S. DABLINE A SDN. EAMFION, VIIGIMA
Don't treat
, kiSatatvI. smart-1
t will, power
1
4
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The Saint Jo Tribune. (Saint Jo, Tex.), Vol. 22, No. 5, Ed. 1 Friday, December 26, 1919, newspaper, December 26, 1919; Saint Jo, Texas. (https://texashistory.unt.edu/ark:/67531/metapth1108342/m1/3/?q=%22Business%2C+Economics+and+Finance+-+Communications+-+Newspapers%22: accessed July 17, 2024), University of North Texas Libraries, The Portal to Texas History, https://texashistory.unt.edu; .