Picture Play Magazine (Oct-Nov 1915)

PICTURE-PLAY WEEKLY 23 "Oh, I'll provide for that, Marsh. Tou understand, then ?" tnj "Ye-es, sir," faltered the little man. '"For your fortune then, Marsh ; for ur country, and the honor of us both !" Jinckney put out his hand. The little man grasped it, and let the ither's strength steady him to his promise, even as this telegram was upon ;!he wires to catch Dick at Cheyenne: "Everything ready final forging Thursday night, when must arrive. Do not disappoint us. "George Durant." And a moment later Mr. Durant was telephoning Frances, at home, the time of Dick's arrival. CHAPTER VI. THE TEMPERING OF THE GUN. " 'Surrechun in F'lippines ! Bloody battle in Bagol ! Extra ! War broke out ! Big battle in Bagol !" Thursday had come at last. Frances Durant dropped her book for the fiftieth time, and picked it up again, smiling to herself. For now, not merely Thursday, but Thursday afternoon had come ! Very soon, indeed, it would be four o'clock; and the motor car, which had been sent to call for her father at the works, would return to take her with him to the station. Since her father had telephoned her four days before that Dick was on his way and already had reached Ogden, she had followed his journey across the continent. This evening he would be passing through Wyoming, and at Cheyenne the Pullman conductor would be searching through the train to give him her father's telegram. Then he had reached Nebraska, and the Union Pacific was switching his car for Chicago. Now he would be rushing across the city to make his Eastern connection for Durant. She had been searching fearfully through all the Pittsburgh and Washington newspapers every morning and afternoon since she knew that he had landed. At any moment, she knew, a Manila cable might tell of fresh trouble which would take him back. But after the first rather mild outbreak on the day after he landed, things appeared to have quieted down again. For three whole days nothing more had happened. Even as she went to the window to watch for the motor car which would take her to meet him, the sudden cry struck mercilessly upon her ear — the cry of the newsboy calling his pitiless extras through the quiet residence district of the little Pennsylvania town. " 'Surrechun in F'lippines ! Big battle in Bagol !" "Yes, a big battle in Bagol !" She read the relentless headlines as the butler brought her the paper. She read tremblingly through the list of the men who had fallen. "He is not there, of course ; but — now he must go back ! Why doesn't father ever come?" "Coming now, Miss Frances !" her maid, who had overheard, ventured to reply. The girl rushed down to meet the old man as he left the car. "Oh, father!" "Frances, my dear. Then you have heard the news from Bagol?" "Father ! You don't mean that he isn't coming at all?" "Oh, no, my dear. I have just received a telegram from him, telling me that he was coming, but I'm afraid he will be at least four hours late. There is trouble on the main line west of Pittsburgh, and probably he can't reach here before half past eight." "And then he must go right back to Bagol ?" "I am afraid so, my dear. Telegrams from Washington have been coming in for him all afternoon." "I don't care !" exclaimed the girl defiantly. "If he comes now, they can't take him away, no matter what they say, before midnight. There's no train west till then." "Yes, my dear. And, in spite of being four hours late, he will still be here in time to see his gun from the finishing furnace and into the bath before he must leave." "Oh, yes — the gun ! How has it gone so far, father?" "Very well. I myself stayed to see it put into the furnace at the proper temperature. It stays there now for seven hours — till half past ten. Till then nothing is required to be done but to keep the heat even. Marsh will stay all the time and watch that. Etherington, too, has promised to stay; and they have sent for Smith, our crack foreman, to take charge of the gang in the last change. Everything is going excellently. So I shall rest till train time." "Yes. Thank you, father." She composed herself. But four hours later she gave her father scarcely time to finish his dinner before she was hurrying him to the motor. When they arrived at the station they found that the train had lost a little more time, so Frances, leaving her father in the car, paced the platform beside it restlessly. The later evening papers published still more serious reports from the Philippines. One of the office boys from the works came up with a last telegram for Lieutenant Sommers, which Etherington Pinckney had forwarded. Frances took the yellow envelope from the boy. Presently she felt a touch upon her arm. She turned to discover, bareheaded and in a rough cotton dress, Lucy Smith, the daughter of the foreman whom Mr. Durant had mentioned as in charge of the Sommers gun. "Why, Lucy Smith !" cried Frances, a little alarmed by the other's manner. "What are you doing here at this time — and alone?" "Oh, Miss Durant, I went to your house first !" the girl explained breathlessly. "But they told me you and Mr. Durant had just gone here. I ran all the way after you !" "But why, Lucy? What is the matter? Is any one ill — or hurt?" "Oh, no, Miss Frances ! But father — Mr. Pinckney sent for him this afternoon !" The girl checked herself and continued, more calmly: "He's been put over the gang for the Sommers gun. That means he had to work to-night, too; so I went to take him his dinner a little after seven o'clock." "Yes, Lucy." "I found him mad drunk, and still drinking, Miss Frances ! And — and I wouldn't have run after you to tell you, but — but he hadn't had a drop when he left home. They must have given it to him at the works !" "Given him drink at the works, Lucy? What can you mean?" asked Frances, puzzled. She started toward the car, twenty feet away, where her father was sitting; but changed her mind and came back to the girl. "Why didn't you tell Mr. Pinckney of this, Lucy, instead of coming to tell father or me? Wasn't he there?" "Oh, yes! Mr. Pinckney was there, Miss Frances; but— but " "But what, Lucy ?" "But Jim — I mean O'Leary, Miss Frances "