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Show 1 HOME I i II A Siory of Today and JI of All Days - . T it By GEORGE AGNEW CHAMBERLAIN I " T l - 'I t J Copyright by the Century Company said Margarita. "I am not afraid f work. Geree. The end of work never comes. It Is the things that end that make me afraid." She, too, had felt the fluttering wings of the unattainable. unattain-able. Unknowingly she stood beneath the shadow of the stranger's purple city's walls. The next day Kemp tried honestly to help Gerry with the tilling of the soil but the effort was still-born. Kemp had almost forgotten how to walk and his high-heeled boots fell foul of every hummock. He wandered off to the house with solemn face. When Gerry came in to the midday meal, he found him with a saddle propped on the arm of a bench giving the delighted swaddled heir to Fazenda Flores his first lesson in equitation. That night they sat again on the veranda steps but Kemp was not talkative. talk-ative. He whittled a stick until it disappeared dis-appeared in a final curly shaving and then immediately started on a fresh one. "Known Lleber long?" asked Gerry at last. "Goin' on two years," replied Kemp. "Does he live off his stock?" Kemp looked r. "Haven't you ever b'en up to Lleber's?" A "No," said Gerry, "it's two years since I came here and I've never been off the place. Lleber's been down here a couple of times." Kemp grunted but asked no further question. "Lieber," he said, "c'rtainly don't live offen his stock he plays with it Lieber is the goatskin king. 1 Ships 'em by the thousand baies. If 1 you or any other man in these parts ' was to sell a goatskin away f'm Lieber, Lie-ber, you'd be boycotted. Lieber on ; this range is God you're fer him or you're ag'ln him an' there irin't b'en any one ag'in' him for some spell now." 1 "Oh," said Gerry. "As fer knowln' him," continued Kemp, "everybody on this round-up ! knows Lieber but there ain't anybody knows why he Is. Lieber holds ques-! ques-! tions and smallpox about alike. He ain't thar when they happen." 1 Lieber, accompanied by two herders, r came early for his stock. He greeted ' Kemp warmly. "Going my way?" he ' asked. "I b'en loafln' around here with that in mind," drawled Kemp. "I'll take a : band if you'll allow me a mount." "You can take your pick," said Lieber, Lie-ber, "that is, after Mr. Lansing has 1 had his." The three of them walked into the ' pasture. Lieber looked at the stock with kindling eyes. He turned to Ger- ry and held out his hand. "Shake," he said, and Gerry did. "What do you ' say to the first five of the horses out , and the last ten of the cattle for your share?" Gerry flushed. "That's more than fair," he said. "You know the best of the horses will lead the bunch and the fattest of the cattle will lag behind. be-hind. You see, they're all strong now.'' "That's just It," said Lieber. Kemp had gone off to round up hla mule. He came up from the river driving it before him. At every .iuinp he caught the mule a flick with his rope and the mule kicked and squealed but came on with long, stiff-legged strides. "Hi'yil" yelled Kemp and snatched off his hat to beat his mount while he kept the rope-end flickering over the mule. Gerry and Lieber laughed. Kemp was like a mummy come to sudden life. "Do you know what?" said Gerry, Ger-ry, "I think I'll come along with you." He led the iron-gray out by his forelock fore-lock and old Bonifacio hurried to help bridle and saddle him. Lieber mounted mount-ed his stallion and turned the horses as they came out. Kemp suddenly sobered down to business. When Lieber Lie-ber had thrown back the last ten of the cattle, Kemp came out and closed the gap behind him. "I think I'll go ahead with the horses," said Lieber. "You go and take yo' men with you," said Kemp. "I could drive this fat bunch from here to Kansas with nary a hand to spell me." ' Gerry had expected a surprise of some sort when at last be arrived at Lieber's but the things he saw there, - stranger than anything he could have ' Imagined, left him calm and unmoved 1 as though some prescience bad prepared pre-pared him. The house was built on the usual solid lines of plantation head-1 head-1 quarters. Great, rough-hewn beams; 1 towering rafters, built to carry the heavy tiles and to bear their burden for generations; unceiled, vast rooms : with calcimined walls; all these were not outside Gerry's experience in the new land. The strangeness came with the rugs and the linen, the etchings and the furniture, and last and most significant, the shelves and shelves of books and the tables piled with magazines maga-zines In three languages. Everything bore the stamp of quality, everything had the distinction of a choice. Gerry did not let his curioslly carry him beyond a rapid glance around the prent living-room where they found Lieber, bathed and freshly dressed, superintending the making of ice In the latest Ingenious contrivance for the pampering of the pioneer. "Ice water In the desert." thought Gerry and the phrase seemed to him more than words it seemed to paint Lieber Lie-ber dimly, but as the mind saw him. ! In what manner will Lieber I and Kemp affect Lansing's life i with Margarita in this hidden ' corner of the world? I """ """(TO LB CONTINUED.)" "my name's Jake Kemp. The rest of this outfit is six mules packin' orchids and the greaser packin' the mules." "That's all right," said Gerry, "I guess we can put you up." He led the way and the pack-train splashed along after him. The mules were soon relieved of their burdens and turned into the pasture. Bonifacio Boni-facio took the native muleteer away to his quarters and Gerry and the stranger passed through the bouse to the kitchen. A patriarchal bosp'tality came naturally nat-urally to the Inmates of Fazenda Flores. It was a tradition not only on that plantation but throughout a vast hinterlaud. where life was rude and death sudden, to be gentle to the stranger, to feel him and his beast and to speed him on in the early morning. morn-ing. There was but one rule to the stranger: He must keep his eyes to the front. Jake Kemp had evidently learned the brief code. He ate ravenously, raven-ously, poured down coffee with the recklessness of a man that draws on a limitless power to sleep, and made his few remarks to Gerry and to Gerry Ger-ry alone. Gerry was feeling a strange elation that he strove in vain to account for. This was an American but beyond that they had nothing In common. New York and Texas are connected only by fiction. Terhaps it was Just curiosity. Curiosity invaded him. What was a Texas cowboy doing on the road past Fazenda Flores with a mule-train of orchids? As an opener he declared himself. "My name's Gerry Lansing," he said. "I've settled down here." "So?" said Kemp, as he drew from his vest pockets the makings of a cigarette. ciga-rette. Gerry had seen the yellow papers pa-pers and the little bags of flaked tobacco. to-bacco. They struck convincingly the note of the West. "Reckon you're f'm the States," drawled Kemp as he accomplished ac-complished the cigarette. "Yes," said Gerry and added, with an Ide'a to establishing a link, "like you." "Reckon you're f'm Noo Yawk," was Kemp's next deliberate contribution to the conversation. With that, talk lagged. Gerry Instinctively In-stinctively avoided the question direct and Kemp vouchsafed nothing more. Not till Gerry came upon him hitching up his loads early next morning did "AlanI" She Said, and Ho Answered, "Clem!" he speak again and then he said with a glint in his eye that was almost a smile, "I guess them's the first orchids that ever traveled to ma'ket under a diamond hitch." Here was an opening but it came too late. Gerry did not try to follow It up. Once more in the saddle Kemp seemed to acquire a sudden new ease of body and mind. He hung by one knee and a stirrup aud leaned over toward Gerry. "Stranger," he said, "I'm much obliged to ye. It's a long way f'm the Alamo to Noo Yawk, but the hull country's under one fence." ne waved his hand and was gone after af-ter his pack-train, lifting his mule with his goose-necked spurs into a protesting protest-ing canter. Two weeks after his passing, pass-ing, as evening was settling on Fazenda Fa-zenda Flores,' the echo of a mule's mincing steps on the bridge made Gerry Ger-ry look up from his work. "Howdy," said Kemp and paused on that to measure his welcome. He was satisfied and urged his tired mule on towards the house. Gerry walked beside be-side him and learned that the shipment ship-ment of orchids had just caught the steamer at the coast. Kemp unsaddled his mule and tossed the harness and slicker upon the veranda. As Gerry was closing the gap into the pasture Kemp came up and stood beside him. He cast a knowing eye over the fat stock. "You done a good job for Lieber," Lie-ber," he remarked. Gerry nodded a little sadly. "Yes," he said, "the contract's filled. Lieber's sending for the stock day after tomorrow." tomor-row." As they sat on the veranda that night smoking endless cigarettes, Kemp turned to his host. "D'ye mind if I stay over a day with you? Truth is, I want to he p drive that stock up to Lieber's. 1 want to he'p whistle a bunch o steers along once more and smell the dust an' the leakin' udders, an' I shouldn't wonder if I let out a yell or so, corralin' 'cm at the other end." Gerry nodded understanding. "Why did you leave it?" he ventured and then regretted md murmured, "Xevr t nd." J But Kemp was not offended. "Naw," he said, "I hain't killed my man not lately nor anything like that. I left it," he went on remiuiscently, "because -I couldn't he'p it. I got to dreamin' nights of pu'ple cities." "Purple what?" exclaimed Gerry. Kemp took a cigarette from his mouth aud almost smiled. "Never did hear of The Pu'ple City, I reckon?" Gerry shook his head. Kemp drew a well-worn wallet from the capacious inner pocket of his vest and took out a ragged clipping. One could read in the glaring moonlight and Gerry glanced through the printed lines. Then he read them through again. THE PURPLE CITY. As I sat munching mangoes. On the purple city's walls, I heard the catfish calling. To Ihe crawfish In the crawls. I saw the paper sunbeams. Sprouting from the painted sun; I saw the sun was sullen. For tile day had but begun. Of dusty desert sky-road, Ten thousand miles and more, Stretched out before the morning, And the sun sat !n the door. He sweated seas of sunshine, As he started up the sky. And he drowned the purple city, In a tear-drop from his eye. No more shall purple pansles Look up at purple pinks, Nor purple roses rival. The cheeks of purple minx. Alas! for purple city. And its purple-peopled halls! Alas! for me and mangoes, On tlie purple city's walls! Gerry looked upon his guest with new wonder as he handed back the clipping. Kemp put it away carefully, rolled a fresh cigarette, and blew a thick puff of smoke out into the moonlight. moon-light. "Can't say it's po'try and 1 can't say it ain't All I know is il roped me. I know that writer fellei never munched no mangoes, 'cause mangoes don't munch. I know he never nev-er sat on no wall an' heerd catfish call-in' call-in' cause catfish don't call. But he seen It all, stranger, jest the way he writ it down an' I b'en dreamin' pu'ple cities ever sence I read his screed." "Did you start right out to look foi them?" asked Gerry gravely. "Naw," said Kemp, "I didn't have nothin' to go on. But one day a drum mer feller thet I was stagin' across the White mountains give me a plam magazine, and it had an article oi commercial orchids with pictures ir colors. They was mostly kiudei pu'plish an' I reckon It was that wbai got me started. It was the foremat pointin' out my mount to me an' 1 didn't lose no time. I drapped my rope on him an' I've been ridin' him evei sence." "Found any purple cities?" "Not rightly. I seen 'em more'i once. But I guess pu'ple cities is al ways yon side the mountain. Yoi can't jest ride up an' put your branc on 'era. They're born mavericks anc they die mavericks. An' I say, gooc luck to 'em." Kemp rose, tossed awaj q F::::::::::::i "Never Did Hear of the Pu'ple City?' his cigarette end and stood leanlnp with crooked elbow and knee againsl a veranda pillar. His keen aquiline features and deep-set eyes were lit ur. by the moonlight and seemed scarcely to belong to his great, loose-Jointed frame. He was loose-jointed but like a flail strong and tough. "There's one thing about the pu'ple cities." he added, "the daylight always beats you to 'em Jest like in the po'm." He turned and went off to bed. Gerry sat on in the moonlight seized by a strange sadness the sadness the spirit feels under the troubled hovering hover-ing of the unattainable and the mirage. mi-rage. Life had queer turns. Why should a cowboy start out to look for purple cities? It was gresque on the face of it but, beneath the face of it, it was not grotesque. Margarita stole out to seat herself beside him. She slipped her hand into his. She was worried. She was always al-ways worried when Gerry's thoughts were far away. "The Man," she said, for thus she had christened her baby hoy from the day of his birth, "the Man sleeps. He cried for thee and thou didst not come. So he slept, for he Is a man." Gerry's thoughts came hack to bis little kingdom. He sighed and then he smiled a smile of content. "It is late then, my flower?" He put his arm around her. "Let ns go to bed, for tomorrow there is work." '"Tomorrow there is always work,' SYNOPSIS. 9 ,'.;an Wayne Is sent away from Bed Hill fits home, by his uncle. J as a. moral failure. Clem drinks Alan's health on his oirthday. Judge Healey defends Alan m his business with his employers. Alan and Alix, Gerry's wife, meet at sea, homeward bound, and start a flirtation. At home, Gerry, as he thinks, sees Allx and Alan eloping, drops everything, and goes to Pernambuco. Allx leaves Alan on the train and goes home. Gerry leaves Per-nambu.o Per-nambu.o and goes to Piranhas. On a canoe trip he meets a native girl. The Judge falls to trace Gerry. A baby Is born to Allx. The native girl takes Gerry to the ruined plantation she is mistress or. Gerry marries her. At Maple house Col-llngeford Col-llngeford tells how he met Alan Ten Per Cent Wayne" building a bridge In Africa. Colllngeford meets Allx an her baby and gives her encouragement about Gerry. Alan comes back to town but does not go home. He makes several calls In the city. Gerry begins to Improve Margarita's Mar-garita's plantation and builds an Irrigating Irrigat-ing ditch. In Africa Alan reads Clem s letters and dreams of home. Gerry pastures pas-tures Lleber's cattle during the droug.it. A baby comes to Margarita. Colllngeford meets Allx In the city and finds her -changed. Alan meets Alix. (....-.-..""'""'" I Do you know the home long- I !lng that comes to a fellow stranded halfway round the i earth from his own dooryard? 1 Gerry and Jake, two forsaken i Americans, meet in these clr- ? cumstances In the heart of ? J South America and exchange 2 dream-talk. f 7 4.. ---"""" CHAPTER XVIII Continued. "Why there's no Mr. Wayne and Mrs. Wayne only J. Y's." "And you don't know, Alan?" asked the Judge. "Well, I'll tell you. Mr. Wayne aud Mrs. Wayne they were Alan's father and his young wife. Their life was a hot flame that suddenly sud-denly smothered Itself in the clouds of its own smoke. The memory of the clouds passed with them but the flame the flame burns on in the hearts of all who knew them. It will burn on. That's why J. Y. is J. Y. and that's why It will always be J. Y. and Mrs. J. Y. to the Hill." Alan said good-by in a hurried low voire and started for the door but the Judge called to him: "Just a moment, Alan, I'm coming with you." The judge found Alan waiting for him on the steps as he hurried out. "What are you doing for the rest of the afternoon?" he asked. "I'm sailing for South America if there's a connection." The judge looked up surprised. "I didn't know you had anything urgent on." They walked on in silence for some minutes, then the judge said, hesitatingly, "Alan, you're rushed, of course, but if you could If you can do one thing and put it down to my account. Just drop in and see J. Y. for a minute. Somehow I feel that you can't see J. Y. the way he really is. But if you knew him, Alan, the way I do, you'd know it's an honor for any man to shake hands with J. Y. Wayne. He has a rare thing au untainted un-tainted hand. There Is a tale on 'change to the effect that a firm was saved from a smash because J. Y. walked up to its head and shook hands with him on the floor." "I don't know," said Alan, "that J. Y. wants to shake hands with me." He spoke almost questloniugly. "I dou't know that he wants to, either, ei-ther, my boy. But I do know this. He's a busy man, but there's never a day that he's too rushed to think of you." Alnn stopped and held out his hand. "I am much obliged to you." he said. "I'm sorry I didn't think of it myself. I'm off to his office now, as soon as I've telephoned Swlthson." J. Y. received his nephew with outstretched out-stretched hand. His rugged face was ' lit up with the rare smile that came to it seldom, for it was the far-flung ripple the visible expression ofa deep commotion. "I just dropped In, sir," said Alnn, "to say good-by. I'm off again to South America. Africn seems to be taking a year off." They sat aud looked at each other for a moment and then J. Y. arose and held out his hand again. "If that's the case," he said, "I won't keep you. Good-by and good luck." "Good-by. sir," said Alan. As he reached the door J. Y. spoke again. "Alan," he said, "I'm glad you dropped In." "1 am too, sir," said Alan. He was just leaving the setlate old illlce building, sandwiched in between modern towers of Babel, when a cab drew up at the curb. The door opened and a girl stepped out. She suddenly stood slid. Alan's eyes were drawn to her and found hers fixed on him. He drew a quivering breath. Clem stood before him. She saw his hesitation and a cloud came over the light iu her face. Her moist lips trembled. Their bands met. "Alan!" she said and he answered. "Clem!" And so they stood, his eyes fixed In hers t'uit were blue and deep. He felt bis :. slaking, sinking into tiose cooling pools. He did not wish ever to speak again ever to think again. And then Clem laughed. Her eyes wrinkled up. There was a gleam of even teeth. The wind blew her furs about her and lit the color in her cheeks. "How solemn we are after three years!" she cried. "Three years, Alan. Aren't you ashamed?" Alan felt a sense of sudden insulation insula-tion as though she had deliberately cut the current that had flowed so strongly between them. "I am going away," he stammered weakly and waved at an approaching four-wheeler, piled high with traveling kit and convoyed con-voyed by his hurried but never flurried servant. But Clem stuck to her guns. "Really?" "Real-ly?" she said with a glance at the loaded cab and with anchlng eyebrows. Then her smile burst again. "You can't expect me to be surprised, can you? We seem to have a habit of meeting when you are on the point of going away. There. You must be In a hurry. Good-by," and she held out a gloved hand. Alan's spirit was ever ready for war and this, he suddenly perceived, was war. He braced himself and smiled too. "Twice hardly amounts to a habit," hab-it," he drawled. He had never drawled to Clem before but then Clem had never nev-er before taken up the social rapier with him. "Besides," he went on, "there's a difference. Last time you ran after me." Clem's smile trembled, steadied itself it-self and then fought bravely back. "Yes," she said, "yes." And then her eyes wavered and wandered. She dropped his hand. "Good-by," she said, the faintest catch in her voice, and hurried away to seek J. Y. Alan stood and watched her. He felt a sinking within him. "For a mess of pottage," he muttered and then his servant touched his arm anxiously anx-iously and held out his watch, face up, "You'll never make it, Sir. Wayne." Alan turned on him but not angrily. "Perhaps not, Swlthson, and perhaps yes. You may go back to the flat. I'll get along all right." And with that he hurled himself at the cab. "Double fare if you make the Battery In ten minutes," he shouted to the driver and then settled back in the seat to ponder. pon-der. ' At Kst the rains came to the valley and Fazenda Flores. Gerry spent long hours beside his sluicegate watching for a rise in the river, but it did not come. The torrent of rain was local and he remembered that Lieber had told him that the floods the great floods came from hundreds of miles up the river and generally under a brazen sky. Night, black night, had fallen with the rain and he was just turning to seek shelter from the unbroken un-broken downpour when a voice raised In song reached his ears. He waited. The voice drew nearer. In a nasal tone, which somehow sounded familiar though it was unknown to him, it was chanting a long string of doggerel ending end-ing In an unvarying refrain. Finally Gerry could make out the long-drawn tail-end of the song: "comlu' down the drawr." English! American! Cowboy music! mu-sic! The impressions came in rapid succession. Gerry strove to pierce the darkness. He could hear the nearby near-by splash of careful mules, picking their way through puddles with finicking finick-ing little steps. He felt a shadow In the darkness and could just see above It a blur of yellow. Behind it, more shadows. On an Impulse be did not stop to measure he shouted in English, "Hallo, there!" Tho doggerel was choked off In rnld-fllght. rnld-fllght. The yellow blur came to a sudden sud-den stop and tha nasal voice rang out in quick staratto, "Speak again, stranger, aud speak quick!" "It's all right," Gerry laughed back. "Where are you bound for?" "I'm headed down the drawr lookln' for a chalk line where I c'n dry my feet. What do you know?" "Can you see the water In the ditch at your right?" "Yasser, I can. I c'n see you, too." "Well," shouted back Gerry, "your eyes beat mine. Follow the ditch until un-til you come to a bridge. I'll meet you there." Gerry found the little cavalcade waiting for him, six pack-mules, a native na-tive driver and, towering above them, a great lanky figure In a yellow oilskin oil-skin slicker topped by a broad-brimmed broad-brimmed Stetson. Gerry looked over the outfit as carcfuliy as the darkness would allow and then said tentatively, "There's a house down there in the valley." "Is the'?" drawled the stringer spitting spit-ting deliberately into the ditch. "Well," he volunteered after a further pause, |
