Produced by Al Haines [Frontispiece: "Peccavi."] Rebellion By Joseph Medill Patterson _Author of "A Little Brother of the Rich," etc._ _Illustrated by Walter Dean Goldbeck_ Publishers The Reilly & Britton Co. Chicago Copyright, 1911 by The Reilly & Britton Co. All rights reserved Entered At Stationers' Hall First Printing, September 1911 _REBELLION_ Published October 2, 1911 Illustrations "Peccavi" . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Frontispiece "He Doesn't Live Here Any More" "Georgia Laughed" Rebellion List of Chapters CHAPTER I Jim Connor II One Flesh III An Economic Unit IV The Head of the House V For Idle Hands to Do VI Triangulation VII A Sentimental Journey VIII The Life Force IX The Pretenders X Moxey XI Fusion XII Moxey's Sister XIII Reenter Jim XIV The Palace of the Unborn XV Mr. Silverman XVI Georgia Leaves Home XVII The Light Flickers XVIII The Priest XIX Sacred Heart XX Surrender XXI Worship XXII Kansas City XXIII The Last of the Old Man XXIV The New King XXV Jim Reenlists XXVI Eve XXVII The Naphthaline River XXVIII Albert Talbot Connor XXIX The Doctor Talks XXX Frankland & Connor XXXI The Stodgy Man XXXII Rebellion XXXIII The Ape XXXIV Which Begins Another Story _NOTE_ _I wish to thank Mr. Francis Hackett for reading the unrevised proofs of this story._ _J. M. Patterson._ I JIM CONNOR "Nope, promised to be home on time for supper." "Get panned last night!" "Yep." The group of men turned to the clock which was ticking high up on the wall between the smudgy painting of Leda and The Swan and the framed group photograph of famous pugilists from Paddy Ryan to the present day. "It's only nineteen past; plenty time for just one more." Jim Connor compared his watch with the clock and found they tallied. The grave bartender took the dice and box from behind the cigar counter and courteously placed them upon the bar. "Well," bargained Jim, "if it _is_ just one more." "J.O.M." they chorused, and the dice rolled upon the polished oak. "What'll it be, gents?" "Beer." "Scotch high." "Bourbon." "A small beer, Jack." "Beer." "Yours, Jim?" prompted the watchful bartender. "Well--I guess you can give me a cigar this time, Jack." The practiced bartender, standing by his beer pump, slid the whisky glasses along the slippery counter with a delicate touch, as a skillful dealer distributes cards. He set out the red and smoky whiskies, the charged water, the tumbler, with its cube of ice; drew two glasses of beer, scraped the top foam into the copper runway, and almost simultaneously, as if he had four hands, laid three open cigar boxes before Jim, who selected a dark "Joe Tinker."