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-52-other his clothes. His trousers floated after him at the end of his suspenders like the tail of a kite.

"Hey, what are we going to do?" Fainy cal ed after him, but got no answer. Instead he found himself face to face with a tal dark man with a scraggly black beard who was cool y fitting shel s into a doublebarrel ed shotgun.

"Buckshot. I shoot the sonabitch."

"Hey, you can't do that," began Fainy. He got the butt of the shotgun in the chest and went crashing down into the chair again. The man strode out the door with a long elastic stride, and there fol owed two shots that went rattling among the farm buildings. Then the woman's shrieks started up again, punctuating a longdrawnout hysterical tittering and sobbing.

Fainy sat in the chair by the stove as if glued to it. He noticed a fiftycent piece on the kitchen floor that must have dropped out of Doc Bingham's pants as he ran. He grabbed it and had just gotten it in his pocket when the tal man with the shotgun came back.

"No more shel s," he said thickly. Then he sat down on the kitchen table among the uncleared supper dishes and began to cry like a child, the tears trickling through the knobbed fingers of his big dark hands. Fainy stole out of the door and went to the barn. " Doc Bingham," he cal ed gently. The harness lay in a heap between the shafts of the wagon, but there was no trace of Doc Bing-ham or of the piebald horse. The frightened clucking of the hens disturbed in the hencoop mixed with the woman's shrieks that stil came from upstairs in the farmhouse.

"What the hel shal I do?" Fainy was asking himself when he caught sight of a tal figure outlined in the bright kitchen door and pointing the shotgun at him. Just as the shotgun blazed away he ducked into the barn and out through the back door. Buckshot whined over his head. "Gosh, he found shel s." Fainy was off as fast as

-53-his legs could carry him across the oatfield. At last, with-out any breath in his body, he scrambled over a railfence ful of briars that tore his face and hands and lay flat in a dry ditch to rest. There was nobody fol owing him. NEWSREEL III

"IT TAKES NERVE TO LIVE IN THIS

WORLD" LAST WORDS OF GEORGE SMITH

HANGED WITH HIS BROTHER BY MOB

IN

KANSAS MARQUIS OF QUEENSBERRY DEAD

FLAMES WRECK SPICE PLANT COURT

SETS

ZOLA FREE

a few years ago the anarchists of New Jersey, wearing the McKinley button and the red badge of anarchy on their coats and supplied with beer by the republicans, plotted the death of one of the crowned heads of Europe and it is likely that the plan to assassinate the president was hatched at the same time or soon afterward

It's moonlight fair tonight upon the Wabash

From the fields there comes the breath of newmown hay Through the sycamores the candlelight is gleaming On the banks of the Wabash for away OUT FOR BULLY GOOD TIME

Six Thousand Workmen at Smolensk Parade With Plac-ards Saying Death To Czar Assassin. riots and streetblockades mark opening of teamster's strike WORLD'S

GREATEST SEA BATTLE NEAR

Madrid police clash with 5000 workmen carrying black flag

spectators become dizzy while dancer eats orange break-ing record that made man insane

-54-THE CAMERA EYE (5)

and we played the battle of Port Arthur in the bath-tub and the water leaked down through the drawing-room ceiling and it was altogether too bad but in Kew Gardens old Mr. Garnet who was stil hale and hearty although so very old came to tea and we saw him first through the window with his red face and John Bul

whiskers and aunty said it was a sailor's rol ing gait and he was carrying a box under his arm and Vickie and Pompom barked and here was Mr. Garnet come to tea and he took a gramophone out of a black box and put a cylinder on the gramophone and they pushed back the tea-things off the corner of the table Be careful not to drop it now they scratch rather heasy Why a hordinary

scratch rather heasy Why a hordinary

sewin' needle would do maam but I ave special needles and we got to talking