Essex County herald. [volume] (Guildhall, Vt.) 1873-1964, 1918-02-01

Gossip expatiated on this theme In
a decidedly animated way during the
next week. The old barn had been
surrounded with a high barb-wire
! fence. There were signs of Danger p
keep Out! and the like. Some ma
chinery and ominous Handle With
Care" casks and boxes were admitted
to the grewsome structure. A sallow-
faced, dreamy-eyed individual alb
stractedly haunted the place, as if so
engrossed in thought that he appeared
utterly obliviOus to extraneous OBJ
jects.
"Who's your friend, Joel?" ocular
ly questioned an acquaintance Of
Joel's.
"He's an inventor" answered Joel,
land good one"
'"Inventing something for your"
"He is-for me and the government"
complacently advised Joel.
"What may it be, now?''
"a bomb"
"Shoo what kind Of bomb?'
swell, don't mind telling you. We
call it the Pepper Bomb They've used
all kinds Of poison, shrapnel, fire
bombs. The enemy's latest is the mus
tard bomb. We go them one better.
It's my contribution to the war de-
partment. That is, If we succeed in
perfecting device that will blind an
approaching army, and make the sol
diers sneeze their heads off. We pro-
pose to make the service a free gift
Of formula and material"
1t was four months later that Joel
dismissed his hired inventor, and
strolled the streets Of his native viii
lage a proud and happy man. He
might well be, for little item in the
local newspaper covering a dispatch
from Washington recited the fact that
"Joel Bryson of Rossvile had contrib
uted to the government valuable shell
which had stood all tests, and which
entitled him to appreciation Of all pa
triotic citizens"
"It's thousand dollars we'll spent"
declared Joel. "I've done my bit, and
now I'm going to pitch in and hustle
for the approaching election"
1t was Saturday evening just pre-
vious to that interesting event, when
Joel about dusk went out to the barn
that had been transformed into a work.
shop. He carried a lantern, and his
thought was to gather up what was
left Of the powder used in the manu-
facture Of the pepper bombs and set
it off with great flare in the town
square to attract the people to the
meeting Of the Regulars.
Joel set the lantern down careless
ly, never noting until too late that 1t
had overturned. There was a binding
glare, a crash Of breaking timbers,
some flying object struck his head, and
he knew no more. 1t was fortunate
that three of his political adherents
reached the house just as the explo-
sion occurred. PROSTATE and senseless,
masses of flame. He was singed in
face and hands, his clothing was on
fire in a dozen places. They hurried
him to the hospital, and there for
week he lay, mostly unconscious.
Slowly, under more excellent care
than he realized, Joel Bryson came
back to sensibility and reason. He lis
tened, awed, to the narrative of his
peril and rescue. Then his hand hap
pened to go up to his face.
"Why," he exclaimed with great
start, "my beard" ....
Burned off In the explosion; hair,
too"
Him! Well, I shall have to let 1t
grow again"
"No you won't" grinned the attend
ant. -
"Why not?' H.' ..'N
"The Regulars won the election"
"Glory!" fairly shouted Joel, weak
as he was.
Better than that. John Wilson, the
candidate for village president, in rec
ognition Of your services. to the gov
eminent and your latest misfortune,
vacated the candidacy in your favor,
and you were elected" .-'
II wonder" said Joel, after deep
thought, "what Edith will say nowT"
"You mean Miss, Harper?" muir
INJURED the clever attendant. "She has
been here every day to see you. In
fact, sir, she is now in the waiting
room. Do you wish to see her, STRIP
"Do-I-Wish-to- gasp