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CHAPTER I
HAD waa worried about some
^ thing. All through dinner
Nancy had been aware of It. Not
once had he taken part In the con
versation, and though outwardly
unchanged (the girl waa proud of
her well-groomed, youthful-looking
father) he aeemed, aomehow, mllea
and mllea away. When even Jack'a
spirited account of Exeter’* victory
at the game that afternoon quite
failed to route him, both aunta
glanced up, puzzled; and Mother,
saying: “Let’s have our coffee In
the living room,” went to her hua
band and touched his shoulder.
“What’s wrong, Jim? Has some
thing happened?"
Dad turned quickly, as If star
tled at the question.
“Something has, h# admitted,
pulling himself together with what
seemed to all of them a tremendous
effort, “and since the little boy's
away, It’s a good time to tell you.
Don’t bother with coffee tonight,
Margaret dome Into the other
room and close the door. I—1 must
get It over.”
But after all, James Nelson did
not have to break the news. It
was his sister, always quick to
grasp a situation, who asked as
they gathered In the living room:
“Did that crash In the market to
day hit you very hard, Jlmt”
Her brother nodded—wet his lips.
“I—I’m down and out Louise,” be
answered; but Nancy saw that he
was looking at her mother. And
Mother was looking at him, strange
ly. She seemed, thought the girl,
stunned for just a moment
“Down and out,” James Nelson
repeated grimly, still staring at his
wife with eyes that had grown hag
gard. ”A*fter all these years the
Arm’s gone under. I think—I fear,
Margaret, that we’ll have to begin
all over again.”
“Well,” countered Mother, coming
suddenly to life, “why not?” She
sat down on the davenport beside
Dad, and put an arm across his
shoulders. “Tell us, dear. Just how
bad everything Is.”
He drew a relieved breath, as If
the worst were over.
“Not so bad as It might be, per
haps. I can’t go Into details now;
but at least. I’m not In debt to oth
ers. That’s the thought I held onto
when I looked at the crowd of des
perate men In the stock exchange
this afternoon—a terrible scene.
Their faces—well, I wish I could
forget them. I went back to the
office and Just sat there thinking—
trying to see my way. I’m flfty-alx.
It's not easy to start again at that
age, Margaret This house Is
yours; but we cAn’t afford to live
here. What hurts me most Is that
the hardest part will fall on you—
all of you, I mean. The servants,
too; they’ll have to go. And—and
Nance was to have had her debut
Bo soon 1”
“Oh, forget It I” The girl spoke
flippantly because she couldn’t have
spoken otherwise without crying.
“For my part" observed Jack, T
should "think Sis would be relieved
to get rid of all that fuss. FU get
a Job, Dad. I never was keen on
college anyway. I was only going
go's not to disappoint you. And I
won’t need Mary Ann If I go to
work. She’ll bring In—something.”
“Mary Ann” was the boy’s be
loved roadster. James Nelson's eyes
brightened suspiciously as he said:
“You’re good kids, both of you. I
feel better already to have you meet
this blow with so much pluck. I
knew I could count on Mother; and
Phil's too young to feel the hurt
As for you two,” (turning to his
own sister and his wife’s) “you're
safe, thrnk heaven! That was my
first grain of comfort—relief that
I’d put your money Into good, de
pendable bonds.”
“For mercy’s sake!” broke In
Aunt Louise. “Why didn’t you tell
us sooner! If Judy’s savings and
mine are still Intact things aren’t
Be bad. Even with that smal]
capital you can start again, Jim.”
“If you think Fd touch a penny—’’
he began, when Aunt Judy Inter
rupted.
“Why shouldn’t youT What would
I have now, Jim, If yon hadn’t man
aged my affairs so carefully all
these years? This crash In the mar
ket is no fault of yours. Make him
see sense, Margaret Of course he’ll
take our money If It will help."
' Said Mother: “Perhaps he won’t
need to If we sell this house.”
“This Is do time to sell real es
tate," Dad told her, “but I’ve no
doubt we can rent It at a good
price. And If we move to a small
apartment or even Into the sub
urbs for a while, so as to cut all
possible expense. It will give me
a chance to look around.’
“See here I" spoke up Aunt Judy
as If surprised, “the place at Edge
mere Is vacant now. Why not go
there and have no rent to pay?"
Judith Hale had Inherited the
family home at her father’s death
some fifteen years before; but
Bdgemere was more than twenty
miles from the city, and as no one
spoke for Just a moment, she ques
tioned: “Could yon stand comput
ing, Louise? It would mean a pretty
early start for you."
“I ought to be able to stand It
as well as Jim; or I could stay In
town and go home for the week
ends. But I’m thinking about
Nance. It seems hard to give up a
debut and be torn from all one’s
young friends at the same time.”
This was a surprise, not only to
Nancy but to her elders. It was
seldom that Louise Nelson, who
taught English In a fashionable
girls’ school, displayed sympathy of
this sort She considered the debut
a foolish, unnecessary display, and
had said so repeatedly. She want
ed Nancy to go to college and (It
herself to be a teacher. It was
amsslng that In this time of stress
she should glre a thought to her
niece’s disappointment and the girl
said:
"Don’t worry about me. If I’m
not to come out In a blaze of glory,
Aunt Louise, rd almost rather be
away somewhere."
"Why shouldn’t Nance go to
work!” asked Jack abruptly. “She’s
almost nineteen. Lots of girls her
"Oh, see here!” broke in herfa
ther, "I guess we’ll manage without
that I think your plan about
Bdgemere is a good one, Judith, un
less It sounds too bard for Mar
garet But of course I’d pay the
rent like any other tenant”
"Oh, no, you wouldn’t 1” . Aunt
Judy bristled with Indignation. “It’s
a pity I’m not allowed to help after
all you and Margaret have done for
me. Don’t I know that when I came
here years ago you’d never have
thought of engaging a mother’s
helper if you hadn't known I was
lonely and adored the children? And
later Margaret pretended to need
a housekeeper, so I’d feel I wasn’t
Imposing on you to stay longer.
Take the old house and use It, Jim.
I’ve always felt It was Margaret’s
as much as mine. Don’t say the
word rent to me again 1”
She was so obviously wrought up
that Dad laughed a little; and
Mother said: “Honestly, Judith,
since, we must go somewhere, It will
seem heaven to go back home. But
whatever we decide, Louise must do
what's best for her. As for Jack,
since this term’s tuition at school
Is already paid, he may as well fin
ish, I suppose.”
“Wouldn't they give the money
back, Dad?” questioned the boy.
James Nelson glanced at his sis
ter, the Inner workings of a pri
vate school being more in her line
than his; and she responded: “In
a case like this I believe they’d re
fund most of it; though if Jack
wants to finish out the year I’ll
finance his expenses.’’
The boy arose, standing with his
back to the fire as he looked down
at' them. During the past year he
had grown an appalling number of
inches, and like others who shot
up with such rapidity, was far too
thin. He said, soberly: "With all
due respect to you, Aunt Louise, I
think I have a right to decide this
thing myself, rd feel like a slack
er to stay at an expensive school
when Dad has lost his money, and
Nancy Is giving up her party. You
say I’m doing well In my studies,
but it’s only because I’ve crammed,
and I’m sick of cramming. I’m no
bright star, and you all know it It’s
a shame to disappoint you. Dad,
but I’m not going to college—that
Is,” he added, “if I can help my
self.”
His rather answered: “But I
wanted a son to graduate from
Alma Mater, boy.”
“Send Phil, then. Phil's smart
He'll be a credit to you. Why, that
kid knows more now than I did
when I entered Exeter 1 I’m the
dumbest member of the Nelson fam
ily, but I can get a Job that’ll pay
my board. And If you ask me, so
can Sis, If she’s a mind to try.”
Aunt Judy had been listening at
tentively to her nephew’s worda
Now she said: “He’s right I think,
about leaving Exeter, Jim. Let him
work for a while. He can finish
school a year later if all goes well;
and the boy will be happier to feel
that he’s helping now. Ton see,
Margaret I feel as Jack does. I'd
rather be a help than a burden; and
when he was talking I remembered
that last week Caroline Spear told
me she was hunting a suitable per
son to take her girls abroad. She
said: *Want the Job, Judith! They’ll
wear you to shreds but I’ll pay well
for It’ Of course I laughed at the
Idea. I thought with Nancy’s debut
and everything, that I'd be needed
here. But m call Caroline tonight
and see If she still wants me. I
always get along with young folks,
and If they keep me sprinting may
be ru reduce.”
“Reduce I” Jack whistled expres
sively. ”1 wager that by the time
you return to the land of the free,
Aunt Judy, there’ll be nothing left
of you ‘but Just the bonus and akin,’
like that small, red hen you used
to read about to us when we were
kids. Those Spear twins are wild
babies, believe me. Why don’t they
go to Europe by themselves?”
"That’s what I asked Caroline.
Olrls go everywhere alone these
days. But It seems that their grand
father Is financing the trip and stip
ulated that they take a chaperon.”
“Chaperon I” burst from Nancy.
“I didn’t know they existed any
more.”
“They do,” smiled her aunt “Ton
see one before yon now, my dear,
unless I’m too late to get the Job.
Don’t look so mournful, Jim. It’s
a wonderful chance to get a trip
abroad.”
But her gay tones did not deceive
them. Even Jack knew that Aunt
Judy didn’t want to go abroad with
two restless young adolescents like
the Spears. Dad said, after a mo
ment: ___
“Well, we can’t decide everything
tonight, and I’m dead tired. The
thought of all these changes makes
me a bit sick. But I 'do appre
ciate—” He stopped, because, they
all saw, it was Impossible to go on;
and Mother broke In with her un
failing tact:
"Let’s go to bed,. Jim. It’s been
a frightful day for you, but after
a good sleep things will look bright
er. As for me, I really believe It
will be a relief to go back to Edge
mere and drop all this ‘keeping up
with Lizzie.’ ”
She arose, a courageous smile
curving her Ups; but her hand
sought Nancy’s with a Uttle squeeze
which said as plainly as any words:
“I understand, daughter; but we
mustn't let him guess our disap
pointment”
• • • • • • •
Darkness descended on the house
hold early that night, but not rest.
Plans and more plans whirled
.hiiiniiiiHiiiiiiniiiiiiiih.
"Tell Us Dear, Just How Bad
everything Is"
through James Nelson's tired heed
for hours Margaret, thinking him
asleep, lay very still, pondering
many things—Nancy mostly. This
change was going to be hard for
the girl. Louise had said they were
spoiling her, and perhaps they had;
but she was the only daughter. No
knowing what life would bring her
later on, and they'd so wanted, her
to bare a happy youth—a carefree
youth. Parties Gaiety. Good times
And Nancy was pretty—astonishing
ly pretty. Somehow she seemed
made for Juat that Ilfs Already
a row of new and lovely gowns
hung in her closet awaiting the
thrilling days ahead. Moving cau
tiously, the girl’s mother wiped
away a tear.
In the room above Louise Nelson
lay staring at a patch of brightness
on the celling, drifting In from a
street light far below. She, too,
was thinking about Nancy. “If only
they'd taught her to be something
besides a butterfly,” she told her
self, “this blow wouldn’t come so
hard. Not that the child hasn't got
good courage, tbtagh. It showed
this evening when she kept a stiff
upper lip while her house of cards
tumbled to pieces before her eyes.
That’s the pioneer spirit my father
used to talk about, showing up In
a softer generation, I dare say. But
she can’t do a thing to help. No
training whatever. Not that she’d
have had much time for training at
her age; but I doubt If the girl has
ever made a bed I”
▲cross the room Aunt Judy was
fighting homesickness. She adored
her family. It was hard for her to
leave them even for a week-end;
and here she was destined to spend
six months In Europe with those
“crazy” Spear girls. It was all
settled. In her relief at the sug
gestion Mrs. Spear had almost
cheered over the telephone.
“I suppose,” Aunt Judy scolded
herself, “that anyone would say I
was In luck. ▲ trip abroad and
a good salary Just when ire need
ed. But the truth la, I'd rather
be at Edgemere cooking Cor the
family I I do think they’re all won
derful Margaret's a trump. She’s
so ambitious for Nancy, yet she
never whimpered. And Jackl Ho
didn’t consider anything except
helping his father. Offered to give
up Mary Ann, and he— Why, the
boy worships that car 1 And Nancy I”
(Aunt Judith winked back the
tears). "I wanted to cry for her.
poor darling 1 She’s been so thrilled
and excited over this debut . . .**
As for the girl herself, she lay
on her beautiful four-poster trying
to assemble her shattered world. It
seemed Incredible that such a thing
could happen—to her. It Just
couldn’t be true. "Why, Edgemere,"
she mused, “la—Is the Jumplng-off
place. One might aa well be burled
alive, I don’t see how even Mother
can endure It, especially with no
Aunt Judy tp help out Come to
think of It, there’a only one bath
room for the entire family 1” She
threw a glance toward the door that
led to her own white-tiled bath;
and, as If she could see Into the
closet that lay beyond, a vision of
the new gowns hanging there, wait
ing her entrance Into what Jack
called "the social swirl," rose op
before her, and the girl’s eyes
misted.
“I’ll never wear them now," she
pondered unhappily. “I wish I could
get a Job like Jack; but what good
am IT Aunt Louise was right . . .
I can’t earn my salt not to men
tion my silk stockings. . . . What’ll
the girls say, and the boys, whew
they hear the newsT . . . Not that
It matters. . . . Poor Dadl How
he hated to tell us. . . . I’d like
to help him, but—but Pm Just use
less. . . Can’t even earn my board.
... Mo ooe wouia pay me. . . .
Nancy turned her head. The door
wa* opening cautiously, and as she
switched on a bedside light the girl
saw her brother, clad In pajamas
and a bathrobe.
“What on earth do you want this
time of night?" she questioned.
Without answering. Jack closed
the two windows noiselessly and
sat down on the foot of Nancy’s
bed, drawing bis knees up under
his chin.
"Sis," he began In a mysterious
whisper, “I’ve got a perfectly cork
ing scheme. Have—have you for
gotten Cousin Columbine's proposi
tion r
Cousin Columbine's proposition 1
Nancy had not given It a thought
since the week before when Jack,
home from school for an unexpect
ed Sunday, had met the postman at'
the door and brought a letter Into
the dining room where the family
was at dinner.
"It looks like a long-wlrded
screed from Dad’s venerable rela
tive In Colorado," the boy ob
served. "You read it aloud, Aunt
Lou.”
"But It’s for your father.”
Dad smiled.
“Read on, my dear. It can’t be
very private. The old lady hasn’t
written for a long time. What can
she want?”
“To spend her remaining days
with us, perhaps,” opined Jack fear
fully as he sat down and his aunt
drew some finely written pages from
the envelope. "What's she say, Aunt
Louf’
“Give me time to find out,
please,” she returned with 4 touch
of sarcasm; and then read: “Dear
Cousin James: It Is some months
since any news of my far-distant
relatives has reached me; and now
I am writing to ask what I trust
will not be regarded as a favor—”
“What’d I say?" broke In Jack.
"She wants to Uve with us 1 I
felt something—something ominous
creep down my spine when the post
man handed me that letter. Go on.
Quick."
Louise Nelson, always Impatient
at interruptions, paused for an ag
gravating moment before continu
ing; ". . . a favor. I suppose I
am getting old—”
“Old Is right I" burst Irrepress
ibly from Jack again. “Why, she's
a pioneer, Isn’t sheT One of those
covered wagon people who—"
"SshI” warned his mother; while
her sister-in-law, throwing the boy
what In the vernacular of his gen
eration Is referred to as "a hard
look,” continued: “. . . for I find it
more difficult to do for myself, and
the neighbors feel that I should no
longer remain alone at night la
this large mansion.”
Louise Nelson paused for just
a moment, as If awaiting her
nephew’s comment, but as none was
forthcoming, she went on: “I had
hoped to secure the services of Mary
Taylor, the daughter of our good
postmaster; but she has other
plans, for which, on the whole, I
am relieved. Girls are not what
they were In my day, but after an,
blood will tell, so I am asking your
daughter Nancy to start for Colo
rado as soon as—”
“Well, talk of nerve!"
(TO Bl OONTINUWD.)
Declares Moths Dance
“Moths often dance,” declared aa
entomologist In Scotland.
Howe About:
Silerius’ Third Wife
Minding Your Business
American Waste
C, Bell Byndloate.—WNU Service.
By ED HOWE
CO FAIt as my reading goes no
^ one has ever more candidly, In
telligently or fairly discussed the
relations of married couples than
SUerlus, who lived near the time
of the most famous outrage on wom
en recorded In history: that suf
fered by Sabine women who were
carried off by Invading soldiers.
Some authorities claim SUerlus him
self was a general In the conquer
ing army concerned, and that a
•creaming Sabine woman was de
livered at hia tent aa bis part of
the loot
As near aa can be learned from
the vague hlstdry of that time this
woman, so violently courted, be
came the third wife of SUerlus; and
although carried from her own
country to a strange one by ■ con
queror, with no other preliminary
than being suddenly seized by rough
Invaders, she was so capable In
looking after her own Interests that
her abductor later married her; In
deed, she became prominent and re
spected In the Inhospitable city In
which her husband lived.
In his memoirs SUerlus gives the
Impression that his third wife
pleaaed him more than any of the
others, to two of whom he was mar
ried with elaborate ceremonies, and
after very sentimental courtship. In
writing of bit experiences with
women, SUerlus tells In a rather
amusing way of the gentle and cun
ning arts his third wife exercised
in bending him to her will, and I
get the Impression that she loved
him more sincerely than any of the
wives he acquired In a mdre con
ventional way.
What part of your attention do
you give to your own business? Say
you are merchant, lawyer, doctor,
mechanic, farmer. What per cent
of your enthusiasm goes to your
business, and what per cent to pol
itics, vacations, cluhs, automoblllng,
radio, moving pictures, welfare
work, social affairs? Many a good
business has been wrecked by Its
head man neglecting dt for other
things. It Is charged that one of
the most notable of American com
mercial enterprises Is on the rocks
because Its head, In receipt of an
enormous salary, neglected It for
outside activities. The same prin
ciple applies to those occupying fif
teen, twenty or forty-dollar-a-week
jobs. Very few Americans mind
their own business
• • •
A doctor connected with the gov
ernment says that 71 per cent of the
hospital cases now being cared for
by the government were not cases
that In any way could "be traced
to the great war; that the Veterans'
Disability act was the greatest stenl
ever put over on the American peo
ple.
Here Is another startling Illustra
tion of the waste and dishonesty In
American public affairs; In this
case, In relieving twenty-nine men
honestly entitled to relief, the poli
ticians relieved seventy-one not en
titled to It.
The figures hold in everything
else In American public affairs. I
have no doubt that for every twen
ty-nine dollars the government nec
essarily spends In Its operation sev
enty-one dollars are wantonly and
villainously wasted.
The only way for the government
to properly balance the budget Is
to cut off 71 per cent of taxes al
ready levied and wasted. Instead of
adding new burdens.
• • •
I do not know just when, but
some of these days I Intend to con
fess I am as tlrAd of my writing as
others are, and no longer hold on
to the coat tails of the drunken
world In attempts to better It
And In my final notice I think I
shall pay the people who have dis
missed me a good many compli
ments. Millions of them are ad
mirable. My final message to them
will be: “Keep the few good things
you have accomplllhed, and try to
accomplish a few more. All the
comforts and pleasures we have
come as a result of men succeeding
In doing a little better.n
ft ft ft
I have long wondered that the
doctrine called Communism haa per
sisted through so many centuries,
although every reasonably Intelli
gent man acknowledges it Is foolish
and Impractical. I think the ex
planation Is we are all natural Com
munists. Children Impose on par
ents and everybody else, until
broken of It. Some children Im
pose on parents until fourteen,
eighteen or twenty-one-two-three
four years old; some continue to
believe In Communism long after
they have families of their own,
and trouble with the police.
• • •
Old Clarence Darrow, who retired
some time ago on his rainy day
money, confesses he has been
stripped by the depression, and
compelled to go to work again. . . .
No one has escaped. A man called
on me lately, and said If I would
fix up a house I unhappily own. be
would look It over and decide
whether be would oblige me by liv
ing In It rent free
Crossing the Andes
Laying tha Trana-Andaan Cabla.
mparnl by National Olographic Soclsty,
Washington. O. C.-WNU Ssrvtcs
THE Andes, rooftops of the
Western hemisphere, have fre
quently stirred the Imagina
tions of engineers. The building of
early Spanish trails across these
mountains was among the feats of
colonial days; the Trans-Andean
railroad was one of the outstanding
engineering achievements of its
time; and more recently the laying
of the cable that links Argentina
and Chile by. voice added another
chapter to engineering progress in
South America.
Braving Ice, accident and ava
lanches, North American and Chil
ean engineers, by sheer strength
and persistence dragged the heavy
cable up and over the freezing,
wind-swept mountain passes, blocked
with drifts for months each year.
Deep snow here causes frequent
slides, or avalanches, before, which
even the stoutest poles are as wheat
straw In a Kansas cyclone. So, to
keep the cable from being swept
away, workmen dug a ditch many
miles long, over the higher Andean
wastes, and burled the cable In It.
Near the tiny hamlet of Las Cue
vas, on the Argentine side of the
Andes, the line reaches a point
12,300 feet above sea level. By
contrast, the submarine telegraph
cable ofT the const of Chile rests on
sea bottom In 21,000 feet of water,
showing the amazing physical geog
raphy In tills part of the world.
Dangerous and difficult though
these lonely Andean passes are,
stubborn man has long used them
In his restless transit across South
America. Tolling on foot or shout
ing and stoning their lazy llama
pack trains, native races of long
ago traveled the worn trails that
parallel the winding Aconcagua
river, up ever-narrowing canyons,
under cliffs and along the edges of
dizzy precipices.
In the glittering days of Span
ish viceroys, when the king of Spain
ruled much of South America
through his agents at Santiago de
Chile, pack trains and soldiers used
these same Andean trails to reach
Tucuman, Cordoba, and ancient
Cuyo country.
Broke Off From 8pain.
In these same bleak passes where
the big cable now carries spoken
words, once echoed the shouts of
San Martin's famous “Army of the
Andes," when Chile and the Argen
tine, more than a century ago,
wrested independence from Spain.
For much of its length the cable
parallels the well-known “rack” rail
road crossing the Andes. It took
years to build this difficult railway,
whose maximum grade Is 8 per
cent.
At Mendoza, on the Argentine
side of the Andes, you leave the
standard track and transfer to nar
row-gauge coaches. For several
hours a locomotive of the “adhe
sion” type draws the train, Finally
when grades grow steeper, your en
gine crawls on the toothed rails of
the “rack" system. As you climb
slowly higher and higher, tunnels
and snowsheds Increase In number
and length. Vegetation disappears.
To make this trip In June or July,
which Is midwinter there. Is to see
the Alps of South America In all
their glistening glory. Sometimes
snowplows precede your train. In
July, 1830, scores of passengers
were delayed many days at each
end of the Trans-Andenn line, watt
ing for 25-foot drifts to be cleared.
Up In these passes resort hotels
have risen, and holiday seekers come
from Valparaiso, Santiago, Buenos
Aires, and Montevideo for winter
sports. One even sees soldiers
training on skim.
Winding ever upward, the road
runs In the shadow of Mount Tupun
gato, 21,550 feet high, and past an
odd rock formation known as “The
Penitents,” from its resemblance to
8 procession of cowled monks. Then
yon stop st Puente del Inca, a
strongly formed natural bridge
which gives the district Its name.
Just beyond this bridge. If the day
to clear, you caa glimpse great
Aconcagua, highest mountain in u
Americas, whose snow-capped pe:
rubs the sky 23,080 feet above t
sea.
Christ of the Andes.
At Las Cuevas the westbou
train crawls Into the mountain si
from Argentina to emerge
Chilean soil. Over the hill tbrou
which this two-mile tunnel runs
laid the telephone cable; and. If t
day be clear. Just -as your trs
emerges In Chilean, sunshine y
can look up at the hilltop and 1
bold that famous peace mounts
the Christ of the Andes, whl
stands more than 12,000 feet abc
sea level, on the Chlle-Argentl
frontier.
Far below, though still at 94
feet elevation, Inca Lake la i
among the peaks. Still descendli
your train creaks, squeals, a
winds In and out among moi
tains of Infinite majesty, dignity a
distance, rattles over bridges tl
span roaring cascades, to emerge
last Into fertile green valleys
Chile.
In clean, safe, steam-heai
trains, this 1?,, a fascinating ti
You may sit comfortably at lui
and look out through plate-gl:
windows at one of the world's m
astounding panoramas. But j
merely see It. The workers <
there along the track, In skat
caps, ear muffs and mittens—
engineers on snowgboes and
crew driving the rotary plow agal
the drifts—they not only see I
they feel and smell the Andes.
And they hear the voices of
high passes, the hiss of the sn
and shriek of the winds around
crags, the roar of avalanches.
Down the smooth, steep, snow-c
ered slope of one mountain, plal
visible from the train, an avalam
slides. Countless tons of rock, (
and snow, coasting straight do
from the very clouds leave a lo
perpendicular scar. "What Is t
funny .trail down the mount
side?" asks a solitaire player, lo
ing up from his cards. No one
swers.
To save their cable from th
slides, the telephone engineers bui
It In the rocks all the way from :
Cuevas, on the Argentine side, o
to Juncal, In Chile.
Safety Comes First.
"When we picked out the rc
for laying our cable over the Am
It was not with the view of kee[
close to roads and trails," said
official of the American-owned t
phone and telegraph compt
"What we sought was a path t
would give the cable the most s
ter and minimize the danger
breaks from avalanches, landsll
or earthquakes.
“But always we bad to carry
heavy cable on the last lap of
hard journey up steep mount;
and over cliffs, to where we
blasted a sunken way for It (
picked men could stand this tren
dous physical ordeal. We cl
only those who had worked for y<
In high altitudes. Even the bl
lng and digging of our cable’s
derground path over this root
the world, a ditch many mlle^l
was a back-breaking task.”
Once the Andes separated C
and the Argentine not only pt '
cally and In a commercial way,
also formed a barrier against 1j
lectual, social and artistic relati
Now, by this cable, friendly ti
course is easy; and not only
Santiago talk over the Andes r
across the far pampas to I
Buenos Aires, but by a 66-mile c
under the great River Platte
can talk to Montevideo, In Urug
and from there on by radio
phone to Ebrope, the British M
and the United States.
The Andes are as high, cold
vast as ever. Only they seem
so now because trains and pi
are faster than mules and 11a
and because our voices on the
telephone cable carry farther
the voices of General San Mi
and old Chief Tepee Tups
shouting across the canyon*