--- title: Improvement Era description: Monthly periodical of the Mormon church, 1897 onward. This library holds the issues of November 1897 to December 1930. authors: - Spencer, Josephine collections: - periodicals tags: - magazine - improvement-era periodical: Improvement Era volume: 17 number: 2 published: 1913-12 publisher: Young Men’s Mutual Improvement Associations publisher_place: Salt Lake City language: en type: magazine reference: 'Spencer, Josephine, "To Him Who Strives," *Improvement Era* 17, no. 2 (December 1913): 141–156.' source: url: https://archive.org/details/improvementera1702unse transcription: Transcribed from the Internet Archive scan of each issue (the item for each issue is named in the issue's own source); unnumbered advertising leaves are omitted, printed page numbers are kept as page markers. identifier: improvementera1702unse start_page: 141 end_page: 156 rights: status: public-domain basis: US publication 1930 or earlier (published 1913-12) source: https://archive.org/details/improvementera1702unse publication_year: 1913 note: The Internet Archive item metadata carries a blanket "© Copyright by Intellectual Reserve, Inc." notice. The library owner judged it inapplicable because this issue was published in 1913, before 1931; a scan-level notice does not restore copyright. --- # To Him Who Strives To Him who Strives BY JOSEPHINE SPENCER "Going- to Stanford next year, Jack?" "Stanford? Gee — no! I'm going to hunt a job. It's been hard enough working my way so far ; I can't afford anything as gilt-edged as a college course." Afton Gray's dark eyes filled suddenly with tears. "I for- got, Jack," she said, simply. But the apology did not ease her conscience. Think of her forgetting the trouble that had left her school comrade without home, or home-ties — and within a year's time ! She had heard the story often — the death of both parents, and loss of every shred of the big estate that had once been theirs — and Jack's plucky effort to meet his reverses and make good with the world. "I hope the job will be a good one, Jack," she said, "and not too far off. We have had some great times together, now I think of it — all through the school grades." Jack's face, grown dark with memory of his problems, sud- denly lightened. "Your face was the first I noticed among the kids in my first grade, and we've managed not to let one another get ahead since," he said. They laughed, and then Jack said soberly, "I can't tell where the big life-grind will be. I've been trying all year to find some- thing so I could have my start ready when school ended, but it's thin pickings, just now. I can get back into the little town grocery — you know I worked there last vacation, but there is nothing in it for a real start ; just salary enough to keep one fed and clothed, according to law — and no mind-work whatever. I've tried for a teacher — but everything's tied up. That's the case in the city — a hundred applications for every clerkship. I confess neither of those livelihoods appeal to me thrillingly ; I've always had a nipping want to be outdoors. It's going to be the open for me— if I can get it, and keep it." "Have you thought of anything definite?" "Yes ; but definite thinking, and definite choosing, are dif- ferent things, unless you have money X)r a pull to back your best wish. I'd like orange-farming, but the summer I tried out for that as just a laborer, left me few illusions as to getting ahead of the bare living. The owner has a big chance and has it all. 142 IMPROVEMENT ERA You may not believe it— but I've tried one or two things in the way of a living since — Alton's hand went out impulsively. "I know — Jack — I've heard about it — and it's splendid!" Jack flushed. "I don't think T have any calcium halo com- ing to me for what I've done." he laughed. "A fellow has to face his problems, that's all." •'I have a strong idea you will fight all yours out of ex- istence." smiled Afton. "'Fight' is going to be an apt word, perhaps," said Jack, smiling too; "that is, if I carry out what I'm considering now." "Is it a secret?" "Not at all. I've a friend, an old home-mate of mine, who has been following the sea. He chose it in preference to the college chance his father offered him — and says it beats anything on earth. He's on one of Uncle Sam's warships now — and prom- ises to get me a place there, too, if I want it." "Rut—" "Oh, there will be difficulties, of course, but his father has a pull, you see : that's how Ned came to get in without any spe- cial trouble." "But the sea — that means — " "It means experience, discipline, travel, education in a hundred ways that I could never get behind a counter or on a farm. It means outdoor action, of some sort, always — and then. too. though, of course, always remotely, the chance of fight- ing for your country." "It sounds splendid," said Afton, hesitatingly, "but then it means, too, that you have no country in a way — no home. Your country is the ocean, your home a ship's deck." "There isn't so much for me on land in either of those things to make it much different," said Jack. Afton blushed. Would she never stop blundering into that subject? "You've got friends. Jack, anyway," she made haste to say. "Don't forget, wherever you may be, that we've always been good comrades, and that I and mother and the folks will always be glad to see you. That's what I looked you up for now. We want you to come and spend what time you can at the Beach. There's a half dozen of the school bunch coming down next week. The boys are going to take tents, and a few of us who have homes there are going to house the girls. You must come for a final swim before you go away." Jack held out his hand. "Wouldn't miss it for a prizefight, Comrade. Besides, it's just the place to think over Ned's offer. 1 get all sorts of good tips from the ocean, and I seem to see all my big problems clearer when I'm living out doors." TO HIM WHO STRIVES 143 Jack went with Afton down to the big Pacific Electric sta- tion, and waited until the beach train glided into the runway, then took her through the gate and put her into her seat. They shook hands in true comrade style, and parted with a renewal of Jack's promise for next week. There was no sentiment be- tween them of a truly tender sort — they were too young, and the sense of mere school comradeship too strong. Afton's fine, frank character made her popular with both her feminine and masculine friends, and there had been no one among the latter who had been singled out, even unconsciously in her mind. Jack was a fine fellow, and she liked him immensely — that was all. Jack's owr mental attitude on the question was nearly the same, with per- haps a little keener sense of appreciation for her genuine friend- ship, which to a young person without kindred, must necessarily stand for much. The next week found the party of school friends at the Beach, enjoying everything that came to them in the way of pleasure. The chief thing, of course, was the sea surf, where they spent as many hours as possible each day — and besides this, of course, were the excursions by land and water, the boat rides to the vari- our near points in the pleasure steamers, and numberless rowing parties, especially by moonlight, when the party formed a fleet of four or five of the big boats, and spent the early evening, when the tide was low, in fine rides up and down the big harbor formed by the breakwater. Passengers on the bigger boats listened many an evening to the clear, young voices ringing out across the water in school glees, and the catchy, popular songs which their good lungs sent far out into the distance. More interesting to Jack than anything else were the fre- quent flights of the birdmen, who often passed and repassed on their way to and from their meets at Monterey and San Diego. Jack's love for the open was almost a passion, and the air flights seemed to him the apex of all that was alluring and fine and free. One early morning in his tent at the sea, he was aroused by a great whirring above, and rushing out with the others saw an aeroplane gracefully sweeping across the near bay, not a hun- dred yards away. Jack envied with his whole heart the man in the little craft ; a great yearning surged in him to feel the rush of the cool air around him high above the earth, and see th^ blue sea stretching under him like a field of turquoise. The aviator was billed for a local display that afternoon, and Jack and the others of the party were among the great throng gathered at the beach to see the near ascent. The aeroplane was stationed at the extreme edge of the sand, a hundred yards from the pier, and Jack, slipping away from the others, managed to get close to the air- man as he made ready for his flight. To his surprise he recog- 144 [MPR0VEMEN1 ERA nized Hanly Brown, who had spent two years as an employe on his father's orange grove before the crash came that had taken everything from them. Jack's breath came fast. He edged nearer. "] lu'llo, Han !" he said, in the manner of old times. Hanly turned, and came forward with outstretched hands. ".If it isn't Bub Everly! Where have you been, youngster? I've thought of you a lot— and tried to locate you several^ times." "You can make me believe that was hard work," said Jack. "I've been so many different places since I saw you, I've had to hire a detective to keep track of myself." "Been good to yourself, I hope?" asked Hanly with genuine interest. "Good is a tame word," laughed Jack. "I've been wishing you'd let me hear from you — and do something for you— if you need it," said Hanly. "It's going to take a lifetime to make me forget the way I was treated at your place." "You're not in my debt," smiled Jack. "But there's some- thing you can do for me that will put me deep in yours. It's right now, today," he went on, as Hanly looked at him inquiringly. "I want to go up in the machine with you — I'm wild for it — and it's my one possible chance." Hanly's face fell. "I thought there was nothing I could re- fuse you," he said. "But I don't need to tell you the risks, and that I wouldn't care to repay my debt of gratitude by chancing your life in a flight. We're never sure, you know," he said. "Neither are we earth-birds," laughed Jack. "Bad things happen below as well as above — and I'll never rest until I try air- travel. It will be with you, or the next fellow that will take me." Hanly recognized the certain note in Jack's voice. "I wish you'd let me off," he said, with a last effort against Jack's risk. "I'd rather go with you than anyone else,'' said Jack, eagerly. Hanly pointed to the machine. "Hop in," he said, "I'm ready to start." As the two climbed into the aeroplane, a big murmur of ex- citement sounded from the throng — which surged for a closer view of the daring young passenger. As the craft skimmed up- ward, Jack caught a glimpse of Afton Gray's pale face upturned in vain demur — then everything below was forgotten. Jack's sense, at first, was not of rising, but that things were tumbling away from him, pell-mell. Then came the splendid sense of soar- ing— of getting away from all known things — planet and all. It flashed upon Jack with wonderful sensation that for the first time he was detached from the big globe which men call earth — from the shackles of that great law which keeps mankind chained to its surface- — while it rolls them through unimaginable space. He TO HIM WHO STRIVES 145 was in that deep blue atmosphere which had hung alluringly above him all his life, breathing its pure essence, free from murk or choking earth-scents — the air rushing gloriously past him with free, unhindered sweep. He would have shouted in his exhilaration — but just then the machine took a sudden dip. He saw Hanly lean forward quickly, his face pale and anxious. The craft righted from its perilous position but still settled downward. Hanly did not speak, and Jack, breathless, watched his efforts to bring the machine back to its horizontal course. It had fallen rapidly, and Jack could hear the frightened cries from the crowd below, sounding like a mighty, solemn chord. Then, suddenly the quick fall slackened, the machine became for a moment almost motionless, then shot straight ahead. Jack heaved a sigh of relief — but his trouble was not over. Hanly was managing the machine adroitly, but their flight had taken them far from shore, and though they were now descending more gradually, it was certain the aeroplane would alight far from land. The only boats visible were those about the long pier, and Hanly guided towards these, hoping that his flight might come within distance of possible help. Now and then, in their rapid course, Jack felt the sudden drop of the craft, tell- ing that something was wrong, and that only good luck and Hanly's clever driving had kept them, so far, from death. Nearer and nearer they sped. Jack could distinguish the gasoline launches from the big blur around the long pier. These were moving — two or three of them — their course guided evidently by that of the aeroplane. Suddenly, Jack held his breath. There was a great jerk, then a sheer fall downward, and in an instant they were in the water. Following Hanly's quick command, Jack jumped clear of the craft, and after a deep plunge, came up gasping, to see Hanly striving vainly to extricate himself from the machine. Nearly submerged, lurching with the big sea roll, and driving here and there by the waning force of its own propeller, it seemed a veritable floating trap, from which Hanly, his head only now and then visible, seemed helpless to extricate himself. Jack swam to him, and clutching the bobbing plane, tried to get Hanly from underneath. Twice, in seeking to drag the avi- ator from underneath, Jack went clown, and only his skill at swim- ming kept him from drowning. When he came up the second time, he could see nothing of his companion. A great fear came to him. Waiting only for breath, he dove under again, and this time saw Hanly far down, floating free of the machine. He man- aged to grasp him, and get to the surface, but his work seemed too late. Hanly was unconscious, and Jack, trying to keep him afloat, realized that only outside aid could help either of them from their peril. It was coming — in the shape of a life-boat, and two of the Ill, IMPROVEMENT ERA smaller stealers, which were pulling. quickly toward them. Jack did not 'lire grasp at the r611ing air-craft for support, and his own strength, well-nigh spent, hardly kept Hanly's head above water. ( >ne of the steamers chugged alongside just as Jack's grasp relaxed, and while deft hands dragged Hanly on board, one of the life-guards from the rowboat which reached the spot almost at the same time, dove into the green depths and brought Jack's exhausted body to the surface. The boy revived in a few moments under their expert aid — hut poor Ilanly, when they reached the shore, was still unconscious. An ambulance bore him rapidly away to the hospital, leaving Jack to tell the story of the flight to a horde of hungry newspaper men and others who swarmed about him on the beach. In a few moments his classmates managed to push through the crowd, and rushed their comrade off to his tent for dry clothing. He had no sooner donned this than a message came from Afton Gray, telling him that her mother insisted on his coming to their house for the night. Her mother's quick wit had guessed the all-night session which awaited him from cu- rious folk, and suggested a possible way of saving Jack from its infliction. Jack gratefully accepted the rescue — waiting only for a quick run to the hospital in a friend's auto, to learn of Hanly's condi- tion. To his relief, the report was favorable, and the rest of Jack's evening was spent in comparative comfort, only the girls and boys of the school "bunch" being admitted to Afton's home. They all left early, with the exception of Jed Davis, who, as Jack's chum, shared in the invitation to spend the night. In the spare room placed at their disposal the two boys passed a wakeful two hours. Jack, restless from his exciting day, and Jed, after long, loyal, self-repression, morbidly eager to hear, to the last detail, Jack's thrilling adventure. Both slept restfully at last, however, and morning found Jack as well as if no peril had threatened, and no death had reached short arms for him so little a time before. His early call at the hospital found the bird-man sitting up in bed, eager to see his dar- ing young companion. ''You may believe me or turn it down, as you like," said Hanly, "but if you hadn't won out all right from that flight, I'd never have put up another one again as long as I live." "You mean to say you're going to try it over?" asked Jack. "I'm due for the Monterey meet on Monday," said Hanly. Jack looked at him in genuine admiration. "That beats fac- ing the cannon's mouth," he said. "I thought yesterday would take it all out of you." "I hope it has done that for you," exclaimed Hanly, earn- estly. TO HIM WHO STRIVES 147 "I'm not sorry I have had the experience, now it's well over ; but I shan't want to try it again in a lifetime — unless science achieves the riskless air-ship," smiled Jack. "It's good to hear you say it," said Hanly, "and it's how your father would feel, too. What' are your plans, anyway, youngster? Don't want to pry, you understand — but I saw a great deal of your growing up, and I'd like to know how you pull through." "I've been lucky enough to get a chance at a berth oh a man- of-war." Hanly laughed. "I might have known it would be something like that," he said. "When do you go ?" "In a fortnight." "From what port?" "Right here. I expected to sign at San Francisco, but my ship is due here with a fleet of five others on their way to San Diego." "How long do you sign for?" "For two years — as a try-out. After that — I don't know." "Let me know when you come back, if you do — and if I am — " He stopped expressively. "If you are alive," said Jack, soberly, "I'll hunt you up." At the Grays' invitation, Jack and his chum spent the week- end at the house, and in spite of Jack's previous enjoyment of his seaside tent, the experience brought him a pleasure which he had not known for several years. It was, in fact, the first taste of home life he had had in that time, and roused keen memories of the cheery home so suddenly broken up. Down under all his real stoicism lay a deep tenderness for the ties which every true man feels, however adventurous his spirit, and this short renewal of past joys made lasting impression in Jack's memory. Alton's two girl guests were jolly creatures who helped to make the house-party a merry one, the experience being alto- gether the most delightful Jack had spent in years. The next week was a momentous one for him. It brought the little fleet of war vessels with which came the Lincoln, for whose service he was to sign. Jack's decision had come to him in the first week of his stay at the Beach — the ocean luring him, as it had always done ; and the experience promising to discount all the tamer chances which awaited his choosing. The fleet arrived at night, and it was a stirring sight to Jack when the dark shapes, one by one, rounded the big breakwater, and threw their searchlights across the harbor. The mere sight of a battleship to Jack stood for thrilling things, and now the long, white rays searching the dark bay, seemed like arms held out to welcome him. At dawn, too, when they lay — long, low shapes on the blue sea at the harbor's outer edge — the ships held some- thing like a kindred sense which sent new thrills to Jack's heart. I4X IMPROVEMENT ERA At noon his own ship, the Lincoln, steamed up within a mile of the pier, and the small I oats and launches brought the officers and men swarming ashore. Ned was among the first to land, and -rasped Jack's hand with a bone-splitting squeeze. "It's great to think you're going to be with us, old fellow," he exclaimed. "It's great to have the chance," said Jack. Jack was not to sign until the day of departure, so that the gay week that followed was free from restraint. Jack was back in his seaside tent, and Ned, who put up at the big beach hotel, shared Jack's quarters for a night or two, afterward insisting on his friend's staying with him at the famous hostlery. Here he met Leon Hademy, a wealthy young Spanish-Cuban, whom he was afterward to remember for many reasons. The first began in the big ball at the hotel, given in honor of the officers of the war fleet, at which Afton Gray was introduced to the handsome young foreigner, a simple enough event in Jack's eyes just then, but leading to things which were to be far from inconsequential afterward. He noted particularly, indeed, as who did not ? — the decided impression made by Afton on the stranger, as witnessed by the number of waltzes on her dancing-card which stood opposite his name ; but the fact brought no ire to Tack's heart, outside that of a rather intense disappointment in not being able to dance oftener himself with the best waltzer in town, and "dandy" hostess besides, who had brought back to him a long-lost flavor of home. He told Afton so, and she laughed with him in her own cheery way. "I don't know how he came by so many dances," she said. "I told him I had to save some for all the class boys, at least, and thought their names were all down long ago. However, the hand- some Hademy appears and claims every other one — I don't know how. Must be legerdemain of some kind." The next evening was Jack's last on shore, and he spent it all at the Gray home — where his warm welcome and farewell at part- ing— brought a weakness to his heart and eyes which Jack felt was not unmanly to indulge. The handshaking next morning at the pier was not half so hard, though all Jack's friends and schoolmates for years past had gathered to see him off. It was Afton's face which remained distinct longer in the crowd when distance blurred outlines, as the boat sped outward to the Lincoln as it had when he went skyward in the perilous air flight, and Jack sensed, in a dim way — he could not have explained why — that he was glad her face was the last he saw on launching into his new life. Strenuous as were the weeks following, with their new duties, and strange, hard discipline, they were wonderful ones to Jack. Their stay at San Diego gave him time to get partly accustomed TO HIM WHO STRIVES ' 149 to requirements, the drill work coming much easier because of Ned's former coaching, both by way of verbal and written les- sons. When the fleet reached San Francisco, Jack was quite at ease in his ship's work, and hailed with joy the news that the Lincoln's next orders were for the Orient. Then came the won- derful experience he had longed for, the sight of strange lands, with their stranger people and customs ; ports famous in history, ancient and modern ; peoples whose origin was linked with earth's earliest known records, and scenes rife with incidents that had thrilled him in days when he had conned their story in school- book, and map. Luck, fate, or Providence seemed to favor the boy's wildest desires, for with Hawaii, the Philippines, Japan and China visited, there came news that they were to sail to Aus- tralia, and thence to South America. All these places held their interesting personal incidents, and even adventures sometimes, for the absorbed and absorbing youth, and when Time's dial re- corded an even year passed since his venture into the new life, Jack could hardly believe that so much could have been experi- enced in the short twelvemonths. The next year took him to even further shores. Mexico's Gulf and the Mediterranean's indigo waves lapped the Lincoln's prow, and Italy, Egypt and Syria's wonderlands were viewed by her eager crew, with plenty of time to absorb the treasures of art and architecture, the peo- ples and customs. It was when they were bound for the long voyage home, and night and day passed again and again, with nothing to break the monotony of sea and sky, that it all began to pall. Often during the journey, Afton Gray's words came back to him, "You have really no country but the ocean, no home but a ship's deck." It was true of himself, at least. Most of the men aboard, probably all of them — had homes to which they were returning. Mothers or wives or sweethearts waited their coming with eager hearts. It came to him with almost sickening force at times that there was no one who waited to welcome him from the long absence from home shores. He thought often of his last days there, the de- lightful week spent in home-fashion at the Grays' ; but there was not even that, now. Afton he had not heard from for a year past. She had answerd his friendly letters up to that time, then her own had ceased. Often in the long nights he found himself thinking of her, the fine, frank brown eyes that had met his own in genuine liking — expressed all through their long comradeship. The finest girl he had ever seen, he began to realize now. Her ideas of life, too, were all right. When he had told her of his final decision as to the Lincoln, she had pictured it all out — things that then he could not see — the- final ennui of a life spent in a round of routine work, with no goal but a possible promo- ISO IMPROVEMENT ERA lion in rank, with no actual thing done in the way of adding to the sum of human good, knowledge or achievement. It had been infinitely better, v so far, than the other things which had been open to his choice, at that time. All that he had gained in edu- cation and knowledge since would help him in his development more by far than his previous tame experiences. But there were big things to be done ashore that could hardly be balanced in his present life, unless Fate, indeed, might bring one a chance to risk something in actual warfare for one's country. The land, with its wonderful promise ; citizenship, with its untold oppor- tunities of service, great as those of actual battle ; and other things that came into one's life. The thought brought back a strange little thrill again, that had begun to unsettle him with every re- membrance of Afton. She was worth more than credits for per- fect drill work, or advancing rank in a ship's list of officers, or even fame won in a country's cause ! The idea came so suddenly that Jack was startled ; and yet it must always have been down deep in his heart, he told himself. Only a chump could know a girl of her calibre and not see at once — that she was the only girl ! He spent many a wakeful night after that — planning. The Lincoln was bound for a two week's stay at San Diego. That would give him time to run down to the old place — and find out things. He had still two months to consider re-signing for ser- vice. If everything went well — -with Afton — and fate favored him with half a chance at livelihood on shore, he would elect to stay with the land ! lie had expected the Lincoln to remain at San Diego, but to his joy the ship stayed only two days there, then went north, bound for San Francisco, with a few days' stay on the way in the quiet home harbor. They turned into it at sunset, but it was eight o'clock be- fore Jack managed to get ashore. He went straight to the Gray home, and knocked at the door with a strange feeling in his heart. Afton herself answered, and greeted him with unmis- takable pleasure, as did her mother. There was a brief, fifteen minutes of genuine, hearty reunion — which passed, however, when a second knock sounded without. Jack had to prod memory for identification of the partially familiar face of the guest who en- tered, but it came to him presently as that of Ned's acquaintance whom he had met before his departure at the big Beach Hotel. The puzzling thing that remained was the change in Alton's manner. It was that of a sudden tension, a restraint, and even coldness taking the place of the old frankness of a moment before. Mrs. Gray, too, seemed to reflect it, and presently Tack guessed its meaning, told in Hademy's conscious air of proprietorship and assured ease. TO HIM WHO STRIVES 151 This grew, momentarily, into something aggressive — an un- expressed but intense sense of dislike for Jack's presence. Offen- sively cool, he managed to convey in tone and manner a con- temptuous indifference for the young sailor which roused Jack's ire. His nature was not given to endurance of that sort of thing, and his resentment would have shown in something as openly hostile as Hademy's, had not Afton's own manner chilled him. More than uncomfortable at this, and smarting under Hademy's insolent bearing, Jack soon took his departure. The import of it all was not long in finding explanation. At the corner Jim Lawler, an old schoolmate, stopped him for a hearty handshake. "Been at the Grays' ?" he asked, when greetings were over. Jack nodded. "It takes nerve — don't you think, nowadays?" asked Lawler, "especially if the foreign fiance happens to be present." Jack's heart sank. "It's all settled, then, is it?" he asked. "Oh, sure ! The wedding's set for June. Might as well be married now, though, for all the chance Afton has for other com- panionships." "Jealousy, is it?" asked Jack, mechanically. "You'd think so, if you'd seen the game, since he's sure of Afton. Hear about Bert Harley? Insulted him one evening for calling on Afton — just in the old, friendly way, you know — after her engagement. Bert resented it — and there came near being a tragedy. Since that, the Gray domicile is shy of masculine callers." "I can't reconcile it all with Afton's spirit. She used to be different," said Jack. "That's just the trouble. A lot of us would be willing to bluff a little, play a harmless game of freeze-out now and then, if she were willing. But Hademy seems to have complete mastery there — has a lot of money, which may account for some of it. Then there's an eastern aunt of Afton's who is helping Hademy to play his game— thinks Afton honored by the chance of getting into one of the old Spanish families, to say nothing of all the cash. He's made that within the past five years, I understand, furnishing firearms for the Mexicans — and in orange groves. Yes, he's one of a big gun-firm in Texas, and has besides nearly a whole county laid out in orange groves here in the State. He's in some sort of litigation with the Japs now, though — wants to freeze them out of the orange business. They've got a big place adjoining his, and they stand in his way." jack had little interest in his friend's news outside the fact of Afton's engagement, and after a few more words went back to the ship. He passed sleepless hours re-forming the plans he had nourished on the homeward trip. Something, the vital thing, he realized now, was missing to give them interest. He would 152 [MPR< >VEMENT ER \ keep on in the same way, now. It did not seem to matter much what became of his future. He spent a restless day aboard, wishing impatiently that the Lincoln might go on her wav. Then, at nightfall, he could stand it no longer and went ashore. On every street he met the boys of the Lincoln's crew, some of them native-born sons of the little sea-town, joyful in reunion with home people, many of them with their sweethearts — who wore proudly the sailors' hat bands bear- ing the Lincoln's name. Jack felt the old, lonely feeling tug at his heart, that had been there during the first year after his parents' death. The sight of all the cheery faces suddenly became unen- durable. With a quick impulse he boarded a line of cars outside the Electric station, not caring where it might be bound. It stopped at San Pedro, and Jack, wishing only to be moving — boarded a passing streetcar. He did not note its direction until the conductor called, "Point Firman," then left his seat. He knew the way well from previous excursions, and strode away up the incline to the cliffs. His last trip there had been with the jolly beach-party of two years since, and Afton had been his "partner." He remembered they had spent a half-hour on a dizzy little niche on the cliff's front, much to the dismay of their party. Tt suited Jack's mood, just now to seek out the rather perilous resting-place. It was not easy, groping in the darkness around the steep front, but his ship's life had made him used to climbing, and he was seen seated in the nook high above the sea. Away from human sight, the discouraging thoughts which Jack had fought down so many hours, held full sway. Home- sickness, the human longing for close home-ties, became a ver- itable tumult in his heart — dangerous from long suppression. Life, after all, seemed not worth while. Brave as his struggle might be, it could not win for him the priceless things he wanted most. The life stretching before him — the possible things — all seemed empty — a rare and dangerous mood for one of Jack's sanguine temperament ! Then, suddenly something happened. Just above him on the jutting cliff, stood a little rustic summer house, sheltering a bench for tourists. From its interior came the sound of a voice — one just now distinct in Jack's consciousness. He could not doubt the sharp sibilance of certain words which marked Hademy's tones. A strange voice answered — and its words wiped all selfish brooding from Jack's mind. "Blow up the battleship ! You have gone mad !" "You will not think so when I explain my plans. War is bound to come soon, with Japan— is it madness to precipitate it by perhaps a few years? Think what it would mean for you and me just now. A thousand acres of oranges — to say nothing of TO HIM WHO STRIVES. 153 the contracts for firearms. It would mean just that, I tell you. A sudden action by either party, and war will be declared -within a month. With two such foes pitted against each other, it might last half a dozen years. There was the Cicil War, you remember, Vhich held out nearly as long. Every Japanese subject would be recalled — giving us our chance at the land we want, and for a song. Surely you can see it !' "But the price — the risk!" "The price is an American battleship. Do you think I owe them anything — these Americans? Think how long my family lived in poverty, through the ruin brought by their interference in our affairs in Cuba. I would light the fuse to the mine myself if it could be done safely. But there is a point right there which cannot be slighted. Suspicion must rest nowhere but upon an alien. I have been busy starting rumors of some plot — secret meetings of the Japanese in Los Angeles — you have seen the papers ? It has all been laughed at, but wait and see ! My plan is this. Tomorrow evening you hire the Jap fisherman at Rolfe's pier for a trip out to the ship. There will be dozens of other boats hovering about — there is to be a banquet for the town officials on board, given in return for their courtesy to the ship's officers to- night at the Beach Hotel. That will be your chance to get near enough with the bomb. Once laid, and your boat within safe dis- tance, you can do what is necessary." "And my Jap fiisherman !" said the other, ironically. "I sup- pose he becomes a docile and blind instrument to his own and possibly his country's undoing !" "He is to know nothing except the ostensible purpose of your trip. I have planned a way for disposing of him later — and inci- dentally helping out my scheme. His presence in the vicinity of the ship will be noted — have no fear. I shall have my own pleas- ure party aboard a launch for that purpose ; then there will be things placed in his hut to help out when investigation begins." Jack heard the other's voice in answer, but the tones were low — -so low he could not distinguish the words. Then, presently, thev went away. Jack climbed back to the narrow path. He could see dimly the figures of the two men ahead, and crept noise- lessly after them. Fifty yards from the street car, they climbed into a waiting auto and drove away. Jack could only guess their destination, but quickly made his plans. Leaving the street car at the town corner, Jack ran hastily down to the wharf. A dozen small boats lay there, and Jack chartered the nearest one — a row- boat, and seizing the oars, pulled away for the opposite shore — a long narrow neck of land whose inner end touched San Pedro. The short cut across gave him a possible advantage — he .could only wait and see ! Landing at Rolfe's pier, Jack crept into the shadow of a hovel bordering the water, and waited. 154 IMPROVEMENT ERA In less than ten minutes Hademy's car ran into the little lane beyond, and Hademy himself knocked at the door of a poor shack not twenty paces away. Locating the place, definitely, Jack slipped into his boat. The civic banquet held for the Lincoln's officers lasted until midnight, but Jack, feverishly waiting, did not delay his news longer than their arrival on the ship. It was daylight when the group of officers disbanded from the long, exciting discussion of Jack's story. Definitely, to the last detail, plans had been made for the capture of the conspirators. Government detectives shad- owed Hademy and his companion-plotter all day; but it was Jack who, at the suggestion of the Lincoln's commander, played the chief role in their capture. At dusk, when Hademy's companion entered the row-boat hired the night before. Jack, in alien garb, and mumbling the really fine Japanese lingo he had picked up from the ship's cook, rowed him, and his mysterious package, out to the battleship. Tt was almost too easy, as Jack said ; for there was Hademy in his own launch, skimming here and there with his pleasure party, among whom was Afton — Jack noted — with the man clev- erly calling attention to the little boat rowed by Jack's hands. All this did not keep Jack's wary eye from a strict watch on his own companion — and the deadly package hidden in the rear of the boat. When the man, as the dusk grew, stooped to lift this into the sea, it was Jack's oar which felled him, and Jack's hand which held him while a boat-load of the Lincoln's sailors shot from behind the battleship and took it all in tow. It was a little harder with Hademy, who tried to escape by leaping into the sea : but then this separated him happily from his own launch-party, thus spar- ing them more unpleasant things. The following official investigation was conducted behind closed doors, and at its end Hademy and his co-conspirator were sentenced to the penitentiary. Five days later. Jack was sum- moned into the presence of the Lincoln's commander and pre- sented with a lieutenancy, a medal, and a telegraphic dispatch of praise from the United States government. It was all fine — and Jack was appropriately grateful — but his joy would have been fuller had dear, missing ones been present to rejoice with him at this unexpected turn in his fortune. There was, however, to be compensation. It was a message from Afton asking him to spend the evening at her home. "As an old school- mate 1 have a right to celebrate your triumph," it read, and Jack found waiting him there a score of the old friends — who left nothing undone to show him their pride in his achievement. There were other evenings at Afton's after that, for Jack had a leave of absence, and Afton's manner left him no doubt of her genuine pleasure in his presence. Then, one evening they drifted TO HIM WHO STRIVES. 155 into the subject nearest Jack's heart, and later Afton told him of her joy at the ending of her affair with Hademy. "There has always been a strange dread mingled with my sense of his attraction," she confessed. "A hundred times I have thought I would end it all ; but he seemed to possess some com- pelling power which kept me silent. It was felt by others, too, so that I cannot blame myself, wholly. All through it you have been a perpetual memory — one which helped to keep me restless under my pledge to him." Then Jack told her his past home-coming plans — so quickly shattered at news of her engagement. "I have really no right to be talking this all to you, even now," he said. "My promotion means, I suppose, that I shall have to keep on with my present life, and that means almost constant separation." "Even that need not be forever," said Afton, "and besides, I have felt always that whatever you really wish will come your way. You have never slighted a chance that came to you — and to that kind of a soul all good things come at last." Her words proved prophecy. The next day he met Lindley, who had been spending his furlough in his native, inland town. "You're the man I came to the Beach to see," said Ned. "I want to make you a proposition. I'm going to resign from the navy. I'm going to be married, and I'm going to orange-farming — and I want you to help me out by following suit — at least with the first and last, if not with the middle proposition. Father has promised me a mammoth orange-tract on condition I work it myself. Now, I'm willing to live on it and boss it, but you know how shy I am on practical matters pertaining to land industries. You are used to the orange business from your babyhood up — and you're just the man to take charge of the whole concern. I'll give you a third interest in it, besides your salary — for your work." Jack gasped. Fortune could have brought no dearer thing just now than this ! "I know you've been promoted into the titled navy list," went on Ned, "but I know, too, from our 'heart to heart' talks on the long, last voyage, just how you want to 'cut' the sea. You've got a good excuse now, unless the gold fringe tempts you more than my scheme." "I'm ready to join you on all three of your proposed plans," exclaimed Jack, "the central one included." Ned stared a moment and then shook hands. "I can guess the girl," he said, "and there's only one other in the land that can beat her." "It's going to take courage to tell the Commander, just now," said Jack. "He won't look at it in your light at all," reassured Ned. 156 IMPROVEMENT ERA "You'll he a double hero noble renunciation of glory— and all that." "I hope it will look that way," laughed Jack. "When do the wedding bells ring?" insisted Ned. Jack stared. "T haven't dared to think of anything like that yet."' "Mine chime at the merry Christmas-tide," laughed Ned. "Why not make it a double affair?" Jack gasped again. "That's only six months away!" "Just time for the bride's trosseau — and your own polite es- cape from proffered naval honors," prodded Ned. \nd Christmas it was! Holly, mistletoe and evergreen, brought from near mountains, mingled with orangeblossoms and roses plucked from garden trees, decked the rooms where Jack and Afton stood to receive the wedding wishes for their new life. Chief among the gifts was the handsome silver service bear- ing the outline of the Lincoln, sent as a token of goodwill from his past naval companions. "That will be dearer to me than anything," said Afton, "as an emblem of two splendid rescues — the Lincoln's and my own." "To me it stands for the first real Christmas I've had in years," said Jack, "and for the most blessed Christmas gift that ever fell to man." God's Serving Angels 'Tis written that the serving angels stand Beside God's throne, ten myriads on each hand, Waiting, with eager hearts and watchful eyes, To do their Master's heavenly embassies. Quicker than thought his high commands they read, Swifter than light to execute them speed, Bearing the word of power from st„r to star — Some hither and some thither, near and far. And unto these naught is too high or low, Too mean or mighty, if He will it so; Neither is any creature, great or small, Beyond his pity, which embraceth all. Because his eye beholdeth all which are. Sees without search, and cometh without care: Nor any ocean rolls so vast that he Forgets one wave of all that restless sea. Edwin Arnold.