Evening times-Republican. [volume] (Marshalltown, Iowa) 1890-1923, 1916-06-05

Arson persists in carrying around
with him wherever he goes. While you
were up on the hill cutting your spruce
tips Arson went over to his tent and
lighted up, and few minutes after
ward heard the clock strike-seven.
lust as I was comfortably forgetting
the significant reminder the clock
went of again, striking slowly, as II
the mechanism were nearly run
down."
Another seven!" queried Grislow.
mo; it struck four"
''Well?" was the bantering comment,
II suppose Arson was tinkering with
his little tin god Of q timepiece. It's
habit Of his"
Il was curious enough to 60 and
look. When lifted the flap the tent
was empty. The clock was ticking
away on Anson's soap-box dressing
case, with q lighted candle beside it,
and for crazy half-second had q
shock, Murray-the minute hand was
pointing to four and the hour hand to
seven!"
"still don't see the miraculous sig
nificance," said the photographer.
Don't you? It was only another Of
the condolences, of course. While I
stood staring at the clock Arson came
in with Grifhth's tool kit. I've got to
tinker her again. he said. She's got
so she keeps Pacific time with one
hand and eastern with the other Then
I understood that he had been tinker
ing with 1t and had merely gone over
to Grifath's tent for the TOOLS"
WELL" said Grislow again, what Of
It? The clock struck seven, you say;
but It also struck four"
Brouillards smile tilted his curling
mustaches to the sardonic angle.
1.-THE combination was what called
the turn, Grizzly. Today happens to
be my twenty-eighth birthday-the end
Of the fourth cycle of seven"
by George!" calculated the hydrog-
rapher in mock perturbation, sitting
up so suddenly that he dropped his
pipe into the ashes of the fire. "In
that case, according to what seems to
be the well-established custom, some
thing is due to fall in right now!"
II have been looking for it all day."
returned Brouillard calmly.
It was Murray Grislow who finally
rang the curtain call on the prolonged
talk.
Say, man! do you know that it is
after ten oclock?" he demanded, hold
ing the face of his watch down to the
glow Of the dying embers. "You may
sit here all night, If you like, but it's
me for the blankets. Now, what in the
name Of guilty conscience is that?"
As it CHANGED, they were both fac
ing toward the lower end Of the val
ley when the apparition flashed into
view. In the deepest Of the shadows
at the mouth Of the gorge, where the
torrenting Niquoia Strengthened itself
momentarily before entering upon its
plunging race through the mountain
barrier beam Of white light nickered
unsteadily for fraction of second.
Then it became luminous pencil to
trace zigzag line up the winding
course Of the river, across to the foot
hill spur where the camp of the recla-
nation service vanguard was pitched,
and so on around to the base of the
Chgringo. For certain other seconds
it remained quiescent, glowing bale
fully like the eye of some tabled mon
ster searching for its prey. Then it
zone.
comment took the form Of
n Ntled exclamation.
by Jove! wouldn't that give you .
fit of the creepies this far from civil
lization and dynamo? What are you
calling It
"Your guess is ~ good as mine"