The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, November 16, 1902, Page 3

length they could phm %;fifi at intervals uffing Ioc;motln nvrteam‘ cars in -t:t‘!o: yard of Bonneville. It was. no doubt, this jarring sound that ®t length roused Presley from his leth- 2TEy. The two friends rose; Solotari very sleepily came forward; they paid for the luncheon and, stepping out into the heat end glare of the streets of the town, passed on through it and took the road that led northward scros! a corner of Dyke's hop fields. They were bound for the hills in the northeastern corner of Quien Sabe. It was the same walk which Presley-had taken on the previous occa- slon when he had first met Vanamee herd- oInE the sheep. This encompassing detour &round the whole countryside was a fa- Yorite pastime of his and he was anxious ths't‘-\a.namee should share his pleasure in But soon after leaving Guadalajara they found themselves upon the lafd that Dyke bad bought and upon which he was to raise his famous crop of hops, Dyke's house was close at hand, a very pleasant little cottage, painted white, with green blinds and deep porches, while near it &nd yet in process of construction were two great storehouses and a drying and curing house, where the hops were to be stored and treated. All about were evi- dences that the former engineer had cro; bewildering, innumerable multitude of Poles, connected with a maze of wire and twine, had been set out. Farther on at & turn of the road, they came upon Dyke himseif, driving a' farm wagon loaded with more poles. He was in his shirt sleeves, his massive, hairy arms bare to the elbow, glistening with sweat, red with beat. In his bell-like, rumbling voice, he was calling to his foreman and a boy at work in stringing the poles together. At sight of Preslev and Vanamee he hailed them jovially, addressing them as “boys.” and insisting that they should get into the wagon with him and drive to the house for e glass of beer. His mother had only the day before returned from Marysville, where she had been looking up & seminary for the little tad. She would ~be delighted to see the two boys; besides, Vanamee must see how the little tad had grown since he last set eyes on her; wouldn't know her for the same girl; and the beer had been on ice since morning. Presley and Vana- mee could not well refuse. They climbed into the wagon and jolt- ed over the uneven ground through the bare forest of hop poles to the house. In- slde they found Mrs. Dyke, an old lady with a very gentle face, who wore a cap &nd a very old-fashioned gown with hoop skirts, dusting the whatnot in a corner of the parior. The two men were pre- f;mfd and the beer was had from off e ice. “Mother,” sald Dyke, as he wiped the froth from his great blond beard, “ain’t Fid anywheres about? I want Mr. Van- £&mee to see how she has grown. Smartest little tad in Tulare County, boys. Can recite the whole of ‘Snow Bound,’ end to end, without skipping or looking at the book. Maybe you don’t believe that. Mother, ain’t I right—without skipping a rs. Dyke nodded to say that it ), but explained that Sidney was lnm- alajara. In putting on her new slippers for the first time the morning before, she had found a dime in the toe of one of them and had the whole house by the ears ever since till she could spend it. “Was it for licorice. to make her licor- fce water?” inquired Dyke, gravely. “Yes,” said Mrs. Dyke. “I made her tell me what she was going to get before she went, and it was licorice.” Dyke, though his mother protested that he was foolish and that Presley and Van- ad no great interest in ‘‘young insisted upon showing the visitors Sidney’s copybooks. They were monu- ments of laborious, elaborate neatness, the trite moralities and ready made ephorisms of the phifanthropists and pub- licists, repeated from page to page with wearying insistence. *“I, too, am an American Citizen. 8.-D.,” “As the is Bent the Tree is Inclined,” Crushed to Earth Will Rise Again, for Me. Give Me Liberty or Me Death,” and last of all, a strahge intru- sion among the mild, well worn phrases, two legends: *“My motto—Public Control of Public Franchises,” and “The P. and S. W. is an Enemy of the State.” . ee,” commented Presley, “you mean le tad to understand ‘the situation’ “I told him he was foolish to give that to Sid to copy,” said Mrs. Dyke, with duigent remonstrance. “What can she understand of public franchises?”’ “Never mind,” observed Dyke, “she’ll remember it when she gro up and when the seminary people have rubbed ber up a bit, and then she’ll begin to ask Questions and understand. ; And don't you make any mistake, mothef,” he went on, “ebout the little tad not knowing who her dad’s enemies are. What do you think, bors? Listen, here. Precious little T've ever told her of the railroad or how 1 was turned off, but the other day I was working down by the fence next the rafl- road tracks and Sid was there. She'd brought her doll rags down and she was Q‘l house behind a pile of hop poles. Fell. along comes_a through freight— mixed train from Missouri points and & siring of empties frof New Orleans—and when it had passed, what do you sup- pose the tad did? She didn't know I was her. She goes to the fence and 2 little soit after the caboose and puts out her little head and. if you'll be- lieve me, hisses at the train; and mother s she does that same every time she a train go by, and never crosses the tracks that she don't spit her little spit on ‘em. What do you think of that?” “But I correct her every time,” protest- ed M Dyke, seriously. “Where she pick- ed the trick of hissing I don’t know. it's not funny. It seems dreadful to see a little girl who's as sweet and gen- tle as can be in every other way o ven- ombo ays the other little girls at 00, are all the same T he sighed, “why will I office be so unkind and un- v. I couldn’t be happy, with all re money in the world, if 1 thought that even one little child hated me—hated me ®0 that it would spit and hiss at me. And it’s not one child all of them, so Sid- ney says; and think of all the grown peo- ple who hate the road, women and men, the whole county, the whole State, thou- sands and thousands of people. Don’t the managers and the directors of the road ever think of that? Don't they ever think of all the hate that surrounds them, everywhere, everywhere, and the good people that just grit their teeth when the name of the road is mentioned? Why do they want to mzke the people hate them? No,” she murmured; the tears starting to her eyes, “no, I tell you, Mr. Presley, the men who own the railroad are wicked, bad-hearted men who don’t care much the poor people suffer, so long as the road makes its eighteen millions a year. They don’t care whether the people hate them or love them, just so long as they are afraid of them. ~It's not right, l..nd God will punish them sooner or ter.” A little after this the two young men took themselves away, Dyke obligingly carrying them in the ‘'wagon as far as the gate that opened into the Quien Sabe ranch. On the way Presley referred to what Mrs..Dyke had said and led Dyke himself to speak of the P. and 8, W. “Well,” Dyke said, | like this, Mr, Presiey. 1, personally, haven't got the right to kick. With you wheat growing people I guess it's different, but hops, you See, don’t count for much In the State. It's such a little business that the road don’t want to bother themselves to tax it. It's the wheat growers that the road cinches. The rates on hops are fair. I've got to admit that; I was In to Bonneville & while ago to find out. It's two cents a pound, and Lord love you, that's reason- able enough to suit any man. No,” he concluded, “I'm on the way to make money now. The road sacking me as they did was, maybe, a good thing for me, after all. It came just at the right time. I had 2 bit of money put by and here was the chance to go Into hops with the.cer- tainty that hops would gquadruple and quintuple in price inside the year. No, it was my chance, and though they didn't mean it by 2 long chalk, the railroad peo- ple did me a good turn when they gave me my time—and the tad’ll enter the sem- inary next fall.” bout a quarter of an hour after they had said good-by to the one-time engineer, Presley and Vanamee, tramping b along the road that led ngrth: through Quien Sabe, arrived gt nixter's ranchhouse. At once they were aware of & vgst and unwonted bustle that revolved about the place. They stopped a few mo- ments looking on, emused and interested in_what was going forward. The colossal barn was finished. Its freshly whitewashed sides glared intoler- ably in the sun, but its interfor was as yet Innocent of paint and through the yawning vent of the sliding doors came & delicious odor of new, fresh wood end A crowd of men—Annixter’s Some were balanced on the topmost rounds of ladders, hanging festoons of Japanese lanterns from tree to tree and all across the front of the barn itself. rs. Tree, her ter Hilma and an- other woman were inside the barn cut- ting into long strips bolt after bolt of rm hands—were swarming all about it., was. gone. red, white and blue cambric and ai bow these strips should bu:' a from the celling and on A éverywhere resounded the tap) of tack hammers. A farm wagon drove up loaded to overflowing with evergreens and with great bundles of palm leaves, and these were immediately seized upon and affixed as mrplemennry decorations to the tri-colo: cambric upon the inside walls of the barn. Two of the larger ever- Ereen trees were placed on either side the barn door and their tops bent over to form en arch. In the middle of this arch it was proposed to hang a mammoth pasteboard escutcheon with gold letters, spelling the word ‘“Welcome.’” Piles of chairs, rented from L O. O. F. hall in Bonneville, heaped themselves in an apparently hopeless en- tanglement on the ground; while at the far extremity of the barn a couple of car- penters clattered about the impromptu staging_which was to accommodate the band. There was a strenuous gayety in the alr. Everybody wds in the best of spirits. Notes of laughter continually in- terrupted the conversation on every hand. At every moment a group of men involved themseives in uproarious horse-play. They passed oblique jokes behind thelr hands to each other—grossly veiled double mean- ings meant for the women—and bellowed with laughter thereat, stamping on the ground. The relations between the sexes grew more intimate, the women and girls pushing the young fellows away from their sides with vigorous thrusts of their elbows., It was passed from group to group that Adela Vacca, a division super- intendent’s wife, had lost her garter; the daughter of the foreman of the home ranch was kissed behind the door of the dairy house. Annixter, In execrable temper, appeared from time'to time, hatless, his stiff yel. low hair in wild disorder. He hurried be- tween the barn and the ranch house, car- rying now a wickered demijohn, now a case of wine, now a basket of lemons and plneapples. Besides general supervision, Le had elected to assume the responsibil- ity of composing the punch—something SUff, by fingo, a punch that would raise you right out of your boots; a regular hairlifter. The harness rooms of the barn he had set apart for himself and intimates. He had brought a long table down from the house and upon it had set out boxes of cigars, bottles of whisky and of beer and the great china bowls for the punch. It would be no fault of his, he declared, if half the number of his men friends were not uproarious before they left. His barn dance would be the talk of all Tulare County for years to come. For this one day he had resolved to put all thoughts of business out of his head. For the matter of that, things were going well enough. Osterman was back from Los_ Angeles with a favorable report as to his affair with Disbrow and Darrell. ‘There Jbhad been another meeting of the committee. Harran Derrick had attended. Though he had taken no part in the dis- cussion, Annixter was satisfied. The Gov- ernor had consented to allow Harran to *“‘come in” if he so desired, and Harran had pledged himself to share one-sixth of the campaign expenses, providing these did not exceed a certain figure. As Annixter came to the door of thQ barn to shout abuse at the distraught Chi> nese cook who was cutting up lemons in the kitchen, he caught sight of Presley and Vanamee and hailed them. “‘Hello, Pres,” he called. ‘“‘Come over here and see hew she looks™; he indicated the barn with a movement of his head. “Well, we're getting ready for you to- night” he went on as the two friends came up. “But how we are going to get straightened out by eight o'clock I don’t know. Would you believe that plp Cara- her is short of lemons—at this last min- ute, and I told him I'd want three cases of ‘em as much as 2 month ago, and here, just when 1 want a good lively saddle horse to get around on, somebody hikes the buckskin out of the corral. Stole her, by jingo. T'll have the law on that thief if it breaks me—and a sixty-dollar saddle 'n" headstall gone with her; and only about half the number of Jap lanterns that I ordered have shown up and not candles enough for those. It's enough to make a dog sick. There's nothing done that you don't do yourself, unless you stand over these loafers with a club. I'm sick of the whole business—and I've lost my hat; wish to God I'd never dreamed of givin' this rotten fool dance. Clutter the whole piace up with a lot of females. 1 sure did lose my presence of mind when I got that idea.” ‘Then, ignoring the fact that it was he, himself, who had called the ypung men to him, he added: u “Well, this is my busy day. Sorry I can't stop and talk to you longer.” He shouted a last imprecation at the Chinaman and turned back into the barn. Presley and Vanamee went on, but An- nixter, as he crossed the floor of the barn, all but collided with Hiima Tree, who came out from one of the stalls, a box of candles in her arms. Gasping out an apology, Annixter re- entered the harness room, closing the door behind him, and forgetting all the respon- sibility of the moment, lit a cigar and sat down in one of the hired chairs, his hands in his pockets, his feet on fhe table, frowning thoughtfully througn the blue smoke. Annixter was at last driven to confess to himself that he could not get the thought of Hilma Tree out of his mind. Finally she bad *“‘got a hold on him.” The ;:l;g that of all others he most dreaded happen<%Z A female girl had got a hold on him, and now there was no longer for him any such thing as peace of mind. The idea of the young woman was with him continually. " He went to bed with it; he got up with it. At every moment of the day he was pestered with it. It interfered with his work, got mixed up in his busi- ness. What a miserable confession for a man to make; a fine way to waste his time. Was it possible that only the other day he had stood in front of the music store in Bonneville and seriously consid- ered making Hilma a present of a music- box? Even now, the very thought of 1t made him flush with shame, and this after she had told him plainly that she did not like him. He was running after her—he, Annixter! He ripped out a furi- ous oath, striking the table with his boot heel. Again and again he had resolved to put the whole affair from out_his mind. Once he had been able to do so, but of late it was becoming harder and harder with every successive day. He had only to close his eyes to see her as plain as if she stood before him: he saw her in a glory of sunlight that set a fine tinted luster of pale carnation and gold on the silken sheen of her white skin, her hair sparkled with it, her thick, long neck, sloping to her shoulders with beautiful, full curves, seemed to radiate the light; her eyes, brown, wide, innocent in expression, dis- closing the full disc of the pupil upon the slightest provocation, flashed in this sun- light like diamonds. Annixter was all bewildered. With the exception of the timid little creature in the glovewleaning establishment in Sac- ramento, he had had no acquaintance with any woman. His world was harsh, crude, a world of men only—men who ‘were to be combated, opposed—his hand was against nearly every one of them. ‘Women he distrusted with the instinctive distrust of the overgrown schoolboy. Now, at length, a young woman had come into his life. Promptly he was struck with dis- comfiture, = annoyed almost beyond endurance, harassed, sbedeviled, ex- cited, made an; and exasperated. He was suspiclous of the woman, yet desired her, totally ignorant of how to approach her, hating the sex, yet drawn to the individual, confusing the two emo- tions, sometimes even hati Hilma as a 1esult of this confusion, but at all times disturbed, vexed, irritated beyond power of expression. At length Annixter cast his cigar from him and plunged again into the work of the day. The afternoon wore to evening to the accompaniment of wearying and clamorous endeavor. In some unexplain- ed fashion, the labor of putting the great barn in readiness for the dance was ac- complished; the last bolt of cambric was hung in place from the rafters. The last evergreen tree was nailed to the joists of the walls: the last lantern hung, the last nali driven into the musicians’ platform. The sun set. There was @ great scurry to have supper and dress. Annixter, last of all the other workers, left the barn in the dusk of twilight. He was alone; he had & saw under one arm, a of tools was in his hand. He was in his shirt sleeves and carried his coat over his shoulder; a hammer was thrust into one of his hip pockets. He was in execrable temper. The day's work had fllfd him out. He had not been able to find his hat. - And":he g;lcklkln w(m- :x:ry dollars’ orth saddle gon 00,” he groaned. *Oh, ain't it .'!“r?' - At his house, Mrs. Tree had set out a :glg r:‘;g-m:e :31‘;, him, ‘thee&evjflma dish as dess ‘ter su per Annixter bltied and dressed. He dg: clded at the last moment to wear his u ual town-going suit, a sack suit made by a Bonneville taifor. But his h There were other hats he might have worn, but because this par- ticular one was lost he fretted about it all through his dressing and then decided }o h|zvc one more look around the barn for For over a auarter of an hour he pot- tered about the barn, going from .u.lfnu 7 THE SUNDAY CALL. stall, rumma, the harness-room and feedroom, ;u"t:'no purpose. At last he came out n upon the main floor, defi- nitely gi up the search, looking about him to see if everything was in order. The festoons of Japanese lanterns in and around the barn were not yet lighted, but some half dozen lamps, with great tin reflectors, that huns against the walls, were burning low. A dull half light per- vaded the vast interior, hollow, echo! n&. leaving the corners and roof thick wi impenetrable black shadows. o faced the west and through the open slid- ing doors was streaming a single bright bar from the afterglow, incongruous and out of all harmony with the dull flare of the kerosene lamps. As_Annixter glanced about him he saw the figure step briskly out of the shadows" of one corner of the bullding, tglun for the fraction of one instant in the bar of light, then, at sight of him, dart back again. There was a sound. of hurried footsteps. Annixter, with recollections of the stolen buckskin in his mind, cried out sharply: “Who's there?"” " . There was no. answer. In a second his pistol was in his fhand. A ““Who's there? Quick, speak up or I'll shoot.” “No, no, no, don’t shoot,” cried an an- gwering voice. *Oh, be careful. It's I— Hilma Tree.” Annixter slid the pistol into his pocket with a great qualm of apprehension. He came forward and met Hilma in the door- way. “Good Lord,” he murmured, “that sure did give me a start. If I had shot—"" Hilma stood abashed and confused be- fore nim. She was dressed In a white or- gandie frock of the most rigorous sim- plicity and wore nefther flower nor orna- ment. The severity of her dress made her look even larger than usual, and even as it was her eyes were on a level with An- nixter's. There was a certain fascination in the contradiction of stature and char- acter of Hilma—a great girl, half child as yet. but tall as a man for all that. There was a moment’s awkward silence, then Hilma explained: \ “I—I came back to look for my hat. I thought I left it here this afternoon.” \And I was looking for my hat,” cried Adnixter, ““Funny enough, hey?” They laughed at this as heartily as children might have done. The constraint of the situation was a little relaxed and Annixter, with sudden directness, glanced sharply at the young woman and de- manded: € “‘Well, Miss Hilma, hate me as much as ever?” *Oh, no, sir,” she answered; “I never said T hated you.” ‘‘Well—dislike me, then; I know you said that.” “I—I disliked what you did—tried to do. It made me angry .and it hurt me. I shouldn't have said what I did that time, but it was your fault.” ‘“You mean you shouldn’t have said you didn’t like me?” asked Annixter. “Why?" “Well, well—T don’t—I don't dislike any- boqg," admitted Hilma. £ *““Then I can take !}' that you don't dis- like me? Ts that it? ©I don't dislike anybody,” persisted Hilma. “Well, T asked you more than that, didn't I?” queried Annixter uneasily. *1 asked you to like me, remember, the other day. I'm asking you that again, now. I want you to like me.” Hilma lifted her eyes Injuiringly to his. In her words was an unmistakable ring of absolute sincerity. Innocently she in- quired: “Why? Annixter was struck speechless. In the face of such candor, such perfect ingen- uousness, he was atg loss for any words. “Well—well. he stammered, don't know, he suddenly burst out. “That is,”” he went on, groping for his wits, “I can't quite say why.” The idea of a colassal lie occurred to him, a thing actunally royal. “I like to have the people who are around me like me,” he declared, *I—I like to be popular, understand? Yes that's it.” he continued, more reassured, “I don’t like the idea of any one disliking me. That's the way I am. It's my na- then” returned Hilma, “you needn’t bother. No, I don't dislike you.” “Well, that's good,” declared Annixter udiclally. *“That's good. But hold on,” e interrupted: “I'm forgetting. It's not enough to not dislike me. T want you to like me. How about that?’ Hilma paused for a moment, glancing Vnguely out of the doorway towa@d the lighted window of the dairy-house, her head tilted. “I don’t know that I ever thought about that.” she said. “‘Well, think about it now,” Insisted An- P 1 iy “‘But I never thought about liking any- body partieularly.” she observed. “I%'l be- cause I like everybody, don't you see?” ‘“Well, you've ‘got to like some people more than other people,” hazarded An- nixter, “and 1 want to be one of those ‘some people,’ gavvy? Good Lord, I don't know how to say these fool things. I talk Ilike a galoot when I get talking to fe- male girls and I can't lay my tongue to anything that sounds right. It i{sn’t my nature. And look here. T lied when I said I liked to have people like me—to be pop- ular., Rot! T don't care a curse lgolll people’s opinfon of me. But there's a few people that are more to me than st others—that chap Presley. for instance— and those people T do want to have like me. What they think counts. Pshaw! I know I've got enemies; piles of them. I could name you half a dozen men right now that are naturally itching to take a shot at me. How about this ranch? Don’t I know, can’t I hear the men growling oaths under their breath after I've gone by? And in business ways, too.” went on, speaking half to himself, *“in Bonneville and all over the county there's not 2 man of them wouldn’t howl for joy if they got a chance to _down Buck A- nixter. hink I care? Why, T like it. I run my ranch to suit myseif and I play my game my own way. I'm a ‘driver, T know it, and a ‘bully,’ too ©Oh, I know what they call me—‘a brute beast, with a twist in my temper that would rile up a new-born lamb,” and I'm" ‘crusty’ and ‘pig-headed’ and ‘obstinate.’ They say all that, but they've got to say, too, that I'm cleverer than any man-jack in the running. There's nobody can get ahead of me.” His eyes snapped. ‘“‘Let 'em glnd thelr teeth. They can't ‘down’ me. hen I shut my fist there’s not one of them can open it. No, not with a chisel.” He turned to Hilma again. “Well, when a man’s hated as much as that, it stands to reason, don’t it, Miss Hilma, that the few friends he has got he wants to keep? I'm not such an entire swine to the peopie that know me best—that lackass, Presley, for instance. I'd put my hand in the fire to do him a real service. Sometimes I get kind of lonesome; wonder if you would understand? It's may fault, but there’s not a horse about the place that don’t lay his ears back when I get on him; there's not a dog don’t put his tall tetween his legs as =oon as T come near him. The cayuse isn’t foaled vet here on Quien Sabe that can throw me, nor the dog whelped that would dare show his teeth at me. I kick that Irish setter every time I see him—but wonder what I'd do, though, if he didn’t slink so much, if he wagged his tail and was glad to see me? So it all comes to this: §‘d like to bave you—well, sort of feel that I was a g;voi‘ti friend of yours and like me because of 1" 2 The flame in the lamp on the wall in front of Hilma stretched upward tall and thin and began to smoke. She went over to where the lamp hung and, standing on tiptoe, lowered the wick. As she reached her hand up, Annixter noted how the somber, lurid red of the lamp made a warm reflection on her smocth, round arm. “Do you understand?” he queried. “Yes, why, yes,” she answered, turning around. “It's very good of you to want to be a friend of mine. I don’t think so, though, when you tried to kiss me. But maybe it’s all right since vou've explained things. You see I'm different from.you. 1 like everybody to like me and T like to like everybody. It makes one so much happier. You wouldn’t believe it, but you ought to try it. sir, just to see. Tt's so good to be good to people and to have people to you. And everybody has always been so good to me. Mamma and pa; of course, and Rilly, the stable- man, and Montalegre, the Portugee fore- man, and the Chinese cook, even, and Mr., Delaney—only he went away—and Mrs, Vacca and her litt] ,* *Delaney, hey?” abruptly. ‘““You and he were pretty good friends, were vou?” “Oh, yes,” she answered. *He was just as good to me. Evi day In the summer time he used to ride over to the Seed ranch back of the Missionsand bring me a great armful of flowere. the prettiest things, and I used to tend to pay him for them with dollars made of cheese that I cut out of the cheese with a biscult cutter. Tt was best of friends. “There’s another growled . Annixter. fun. We were the lamp smoking.” “Turn it down, will you?—and see that somebody sweeps this floor here. It's all littered up with nine needles. I‘v:‘:'ot a lot to do.” Good-by."” *“Good-by, sir.” Annixter returned to the ranch house, his teeth clenched, enraged,’ his face fiushed. , such demanded Anhixter he mutterdd, “Delaney, hey? nmvm:fi it up to me that I nrod" him.” His teef together more flercely than ever. “The best of friends, hey? B: God, I'll have that girl cow-puncher.- Ain't I Y et. I'll show that er employer, her boss? I'll show her—and Delaney, too. It would be easy enough—and then Delaney can have her—if he wamts her—after me.” An evil light flashing from under his scowl, spread over his face. The male in- stincts of possession, unreasoned, treach- erous, oblique, came twisting to the sur- face. All the lower nature of the man, ignorant of women, racked at one and the same time with enmity and desire, roused itself like a hideous and abominable beast. And at the same moment Hilma returned to her house, humming to herself/as she walked, her white dress glowing with a shimmer of faint saffron light iy the last ray of the after-glow. A little after half-past seven the first carryall, bearing the druggist of Bonne- ville and his women folk, arrived in front of the new barn. Immediately afterward an express wagon loaded down with a swarming family of Spanish-Mexicans, gorgeous’in red and yellow colors, fol- lowed. Billy, the stableman, and his as- sistant took charge of the teams, un- checking the horses and hitching them to a fence back of the barn. Then Caraher, the saloon-keeper, in *‘derby” hat, “‘Prince Albert” coat, pointed yellow shoes and in- evitable red necktie, drove into the yard on his buckboard, the delayed box of lemons under the seat. It looked as if the whole array of invited guests was to ar- rive in one unbroken procession, but for a long half-hour nobody else appeared. An- nixter and Caraher withdrew to the har- ness room and promptly involved them- selves in a wrangle as to the make-up of the famous punch. m e to time their voices could be heard uplifted in clamorous argument. “Two quarts and a half and a cupful of chartreuse.” The druggist’'s wife and sister retired to the feed room, where a bureau with a swinging mirror had been placed for the convenience of the women. The druggist stood awkwardly outside the door of the feed room, his coat collar - turned u against the draughts that drifted throug) the barn, his face troubled, debating anxi- ously as to the propriety of putting on his gloves. The Spanish-Mexican family, a father, mother and five children and sis- ter-in-law, sat rigid on the edges of the hired chairs, silent, constrained, their eyes lowered, their elbows in at - their sides, glancing furtively from under their eyebrows at the decorations or watching with intense absorption young Vacca, son of one of the division superintendents, who wore a checked coat and white thread gloves and who paced up and down the length of the barnafrowning, very im- portant, whittling a wax candle over the floor to' make it slippery for dancing. The musicians arrived, the City Band of Bonneville—Annixter having managed to offend the leader of the “Dirigo’” Club Or- chestera, at the very last moment, to such a golnt that he had refused his ser- vices. These members of the City Band Tepaired at once to their platform in the corner. At every instant they laughed up- roarfously among themselves, josh- ing one of tHeir number, a Frenchman, whom they called “Skeezicks.” Their hilarity reverbefated in a hollow, metallic roll among the rafters overhead. The druggist observed to young Vacca as he passed by that he thought them pretty fresh, just the same. “I'm busy, I'm very busy,” réturned the young man, continuing on his way, still frowning and paring the stump of candle. “Two quarts 'n’ a half. Two quarts 'n’ a half.” “Ah, yes, in.a way, that's so; and then, again, in a way it isn’t. 1 know better.” All along one side of the barn were a row of stalls, fourteen of them, clean as yet, redolent of new cut wood, the saw- dust still in the cracks of the flooring. Deliberately the druggist went from one to the other, pausing contemplatively be- fore each. He returned down the line and again took up his position by the door of the feed m. nodding his head judicial- ly, as If satisfied. He decided to put on his gloves. By now it was quite dark. Outside, be- tween the barn and the ranchhouses one could see a group of men on stepladders lighting _the festoons of Japanese lan- terns. In the darkness only their faces appeared here and there, high above the ground. seen In a haze of red, strange, grotesque. Gradually as the multitude of lanterns were lit the light spread. The grass underfoot looked like green excel- sior. Another group of men invaded the barn itself, lighting the lamps and lan- ierns there. Soon the whole place was gleaming with points of. light. Youns Vacca, who had disappeared.. returne with his’&oc‘eu full of wax candles. He resum ls_whittlivg. refusing to answer i tighs, voeiferating that he was usy. Outside there was a sound of hoofs and voices. More guests had arrived. The druggist, seized with confusion, terrified lest he had ‘put on his gloves too soon, thrust his hands into his pockets. It was Cutter. Magnus Derrick’s division super- intendent, who. came, bringing his wife and her two girl cousins. They had come fifteen miles by the trail from the far dis- tant division house on “Four” of Los Muertys and had ridden on horseback in- stead of driving. Mrs. Cutter could be heard declaring that she was nearly dead and felt more like going to bed than danc- ing. The two girl cousins, in dresses of dotted Swiss over blue sateen, were do- ing their utmost to pacify her. She could be heard protesting from moment to mo- ment. One distinguished the phrases “straight to my bed.” “'back nearly brok- en in twi “never wanted to come In the first place.” The druggist, observing Cut- ter take a pair of gloves from Mrs. Cut- ter's reticule, drew his hands from - his pockets. But abruptly there was an interruption. In the musicians’ corner a scuffle broke out. A chair was overturned. There was a noise of imprecations mingled with shouts of derisfon. Skeezlcks, the French- man. had turned upon the joshers. “Ah. no.” he was heard to exclaim, “at the end of the end it is too much. Kind of a bad canary—we will go to see abont that. Aha, let him close up his face be- X;reflltdemcll!h it with a good stroke of the fist.” The men who were lighting the lanterns were obliged to intervene before he could be placated. Hoaven and his wife and daughters ar- rived. Minna' was carrying little Hilda, already asleep, in her arms. Minna look- ed very pretty, striking even, with her black hair, pale face. very red lips and greenish-blue eyes. She was dressed In what had been Mrs. Hooven's weddln‘ own. a cheap affalr of “farmer’s satin. rs, Hooven had pendent carrings nf im!. tation Jet in her ears. Hooven was —wearing an old frock coat of Magnus Derrick’s. the sleeves too long, the shoulders absurdly too wide. He and Cutter at once entered into an excited conversation as to the owner- ship of a certain steer. brand—"" 1 * Hooven clasped his head, “ach, der brendt; dot makes ‘:ie laugh some laughs. Dot's goot—der brendt —doand I see um—shoor der boole mit der bleck star bel der vorehead in der middle oaf. Anv someones you esk tell you dot Is mein boole. You ask any some- ones. Der brendt? To hell mit der brendt. You aindt got some memorie aboudt does ting I guess nodt.” ‘“Please step aside, gentlemen,” L young Vacca, Who was still making the rounds of the floor. Hooven whirled about. “Eh? What den,” he exclaimed, still excited, willing to be angry at any one for the moment. “Doand you push soh, you. I tink ber- hapz you doand own dose barn, hey?" “I'm busy, I'm very busy.” The young man pushed by with grave preoccupation, ';rvlyfo_ quarts 'n' a half, Two quarts 'n’ a half.” “T know better. That's all rot.” But the barn was filling up rapidly. At S R e TR g e So great has been the de- mand for the first installment of “The Octopus,” published in The Sunday Call last Sunday, November 9, that the editi. nday, apply . The Sunday Call of that date at once or you will be too late. i “The Octopus” was written by the late Frank Norri, It is Mr. novel. . It has justly beer consider- ' ed the nearest approach to the “great American mnovel” ever written. : It portrays life and scemes kS California meore vividly than any other book extant. It is now running in The Sunday Call. No extra charge! And by this means you read the best novel of the day—FREE! | Norris’ strongest oVt moment there was ‘a rattle of a newly arrived vehicle fromoutside. Guest after guest a; in the . doo: i singly or in couples, or in families, or in garrulous parties of five or six. Now it Wwas Phelps and his mother from Los Mu- ertos, now a foreman from Broderson’s with his family, now a gayly appareled clerk from a Bonneville store, solitary and bewildered, looking for a place to put his hat; a_ couple of Bv exican girls from Guadalajara with coquettish effects of black and yellow about - their dress, now a group of Osterman’s tenants, Portuguese, swarthy, with plastered Fair and curled mustaches, redolent of cheap perfumes. Sarria arrived, his smooth, shiny face glistening with perspiration. He wore a new cassock and carried his broad-brimmed hat under his arm. His appearance made quite a stir. He passed from group to group, urbane, affable, shaking hands right and left; he assumed a set smile of amiability which never left his face the whole evening. But abruptly there was a veritable sen- sation. From out the little crowd that persistently huddled about the doorway came Osterman. He wore a dress suit with a white waistcoat and patent leather pumps—what a wonder! A littl jualm of excitement spread around the barn. One exchanged nudges of the elbow with one's neighbor, whispering earnestly be- hind the hand. ‘'What astonishing clothes! Catch on to the coattails! It was a mas- querade costume maybe; that goat Oster- man was such a josher, one never could tell what he would do next. g The musicians began to tune up. From their corner came a medley o mallow sounds, the subdued chirps of the violins, the dull bourdon of the bass viol, the li- 3u|d gurgling of the flageolet and ‘the leep-toned snarl of the big horn, with now and then a rasping stridulating of the snare drum. A semse of gayety be- gan to spread throughout the assembly. At every moment the crowd increased. The aroma of new sawn timber and saw- dust began to be mingled with the fem- inine odor of sachet and flowers. There was.a babel of talk in the air—male bary- tone and soprano chatter—varied by an occasfonal note of laughter and the swish of stiffly starched petticoats. On the row of chairs that went around three sides of the wall groups began to settle them- selves. For 'a long .time the guésts hud- dled close to the doorway; the lawer end of the floor was crowded, the upper end deserted: but by degrees the lines of white musiin and pink -and blue sAteen extended, dotted with the darker figures of men in black suits. The conversation grew louder as the timidity of the early moments wore off. Groups at a distance called back and forth; conversations were carried on at. top voice. Once, even a whole party hurried across the floor from one side of the barn to the other. Annixter emerged from the harness room, his face red with wrangling. He took a position to the right of the door, shaking hands with .newcomers, inviting them over and over again to cut loose and whoop it along. Into the ears of his more intimate. male acquaintances he dropped a word as to punch and cigars in the harness room later on, winking with vast intelligence. Ranchers from remoter :parts of the country appeared—Garnett Kom the Ruby rancho, Keast from the ranch of the same name, Gethings of the San Pablo, Chat- tern of the Bonanza and others and still others, a score of them—elderly men,. for the: most part, bearded, slow of speech, deliberate, dressed in broadcloth. Old Broderson, who entered with his wife on his arm, fell in with this type, and with them came a certain Dabney, of whom nothing but his name was known, a silent old man, who made no friends, whom no- body knew or spoke to, who was seen only upon such occasions as this, coming from no one knew where, going, no one cared to_inqnire whither. Between 8 and half past Magnus Der- rick and his fam]!r were seen. Magnus® entry caused no_ little impression, Some said, “There's the governor,” and called thelr companions’ attention to the thin, erect figure, commanding, imposing, dem- inating all in his immediate neighborhood. Harran came with- him, wearing a cut- away suit of black. He was undeniably handsome, young and fresh looking, his cheeks hlghly colored, quite the finest looking of all the younger men; blonde, strong, with that certain courtliness of manuer that had always made him liked. He took his mother upon his‘arm and eon- ducted her to a seat by the side of Mrs. Broderson. Annie Derrick was ‘very pretty that evening. She was dressed in a gray silk gown with a collar of ‘pink .velvet.. Her light brown hair that yet retained so much of its brightness was transfixed by @ high shell comb,: very Spanish. But the look of uneasiness in’ her large eyes— the ‘eves of a young girl—was deepening every day. . The erpresulcm -of sinnocence -and fnquiry which they so easily assumed was disturbed by a faint suggestion of aversion, almost of terror. She settled herself in her place, in the corner of the hall, in the rear rank of chairs, a little fr|g‘xtened by the glare of lights, the hum of talk and the. shifting crowd, glad to be out of the way, to attract no attention, willing to obliterate herself. All ‘at ounce, Annixter, who had just shaken hands with Dyke. his mother and the little tad. moved abruptly in his place, drawing in his breath sharply. The crowd around the great, wide-open main door of the barn had somewhat thinned out and in the lew;ruups that still remained there he had suddenly recognized Mr. and Mrs. Tree and Hilma, making their waw to- ward some empty seats near the entrance of the feed room. In the dusky light of the barn earlier in the evening Annixter had not been able to see Hilma lflnh’ll{. Now, however, as she passed before his eyes in the glitter- ing radiance of the lamps and lanterns, he caught his breath in astonishment, Never had she appeared more beautiful in his eyes. It did not seem possible that this was the same girl whom he saw every day in and around the ranchhouse and daliry, the girl of simple calico frocks and plafn shirt waists. who brought him his dinner, who made up his bed. Now he could not take his eyes from her. Hilma, for the first time, was wearing her hair done high upon her head. The thick, sweet smelling masses, bitumen brown in- the shadows, corruscated like golden filaments in the light. Her organdie frock was long, longer than any she had yet worn. It left a little of her neck and breast bare and all of her arms, Annixter muttered an exclamation. Such arms! How did she manage to keep them hid on ordinary occasions. Blf at the shoulder, tapering with delicious, modulations to the elbow and wrist, over- laid with a delicate, file&ming luster. As often as she turned her head the move- nt sent a slow undulation over her neck and shoulders, the pale amber-tinted shadows under her chin, coming and go- ing over the creamy whiteness of the skin like the chanflng moire of silk. The pretty rose color of her cheek had deep- ened to a pale carnation. Annixter, his Ihnm‘ll clasped behind him, stood watch- ng. In a few moments Hilma was surround- ed by a group of young men, clamor- ing for dances. They came from all cor- ners of the barn, leaving the other girls recipitately, almést. rudely. There could Be-Tiftle doubt as to who was to be the belle of the occasion. ‘Hilma's little tri- umph was immediate, complete. Annix- ter could hear her wvoice from time to time, its usual velvety huskiness vibrat- ing to a note of exuberant gayety. ‘Xll at once the orchestra swung off into a march—the grand march. There was a great rush to secure ‘partners.” Youn, Vacca, still going the rounds, was pushe: to one side. The gayly appareled Tk from the Bonneville store lost his-heall in the confusion. He could .not find his “‘partner.” He roamed wildly about the barn, bewlldered, his eyes rolling. He re- solved to prepare an elaborate programme .card on the back of an old_envelope. Rapidly the line was formed, Hilma and Harran Derrick in the lead, Annixter having obstinately refused to engage in either march, set or dance the whole evening. Soon the confused shuffling of feet settled to a measured cadence; the orchestra blared and wailed, the snare drum, rolling at exact Intervals, the cor- net marking the time. It was half-past eight o'clock. Annixter drew a long breath. *'Good,” he muttered; “the thing is un- der way at last.” Singularly - enough, Osterman also re- fused to dance. The week before he had returned from Los Angeles, burs with the importance of his mission. e had been successful. He had Disbrow “In his pocket.” He was impatient to pose be- fore the others of the committee as a skiliful political agent, a manlpulator. He forgot his attitude of the early part of the evening when he had drawn at- tention to himself with his wonderful _clothes. - Now his comic actor’s face, with its brownish-red cheeks, protuberant ears and horizontal slit of a mouth, was over- cast with gravity. His bald forehead wa: seamed with the wrinkles of responsibil- ity. He drew Annixter into one of the empty stalls and n an elaborate ex- lanation, glib, voluble, interminable, go- rn: over again in detaill what he had re- ported to the committee in outline. i ST ul,n‘nmged—l schemed—I kept dark—I ay low—" 3 ‘u: Annixter refused to listen.. “Oh, rot your schemes. There’s a punch in the harness room that will make the halr grow on the top of head in the place where the hair o to grow. Cl::z on, we'll round up some of the boys walk into it.” They ed; outside “the grand march" d the harness room,¥picking up on their way Caraher, Dyke, Hooven and old Broder- son. Once in the harness room, Annixter, shot the bolt. A “That affair outside,” he observed, ‘“will take care of ltself, but here's a litile or- phan- child that gets lonesome without company.”” . Annixter be(an ladling the punch, thé glasses. Osterman proposed a to Quien Sabe and the biggest barn. Thelr elbows crocked in silence. Old Broderson set down his glass, wiping his long beard d remarking: “That—that certainly is" Wt agreeable. I remember a punch r on Christmas day in '83, or no, it was "84 nyhow, that punch—it was in '83—"" . He ‘wandered on aimlessly, able to stop his flow of s h, losin himself in details, Involving his talk in gn elel‘sj ;nn.u of ‘tgvhumuu to which no- ody p: any at “I don't drink myself,” observed kof “but just a taste of that with a lot of water wouldn't be bad for the little tad. She'd think it was lemonade.” He was about to mix a glass for Sidney, but thought better of it at the last moment. “It’s the chartreuse that’s lacking. commented Caraher, lowering at Annjx- ter. The other flared up on the instant. “Rot, rot. I know better. In some uréches it goes, and then, again, in others it _don't.” But it was left to Hooven to launch the successful phrase. “‘Gesundheit,” he exclaimed, holding out his second ‘glass. After drinking, he re- placed it on the table with a long breath. *“Ach Gott!" he cried, “‘dat poonsch, say I tink dot poonsch mek some demn goot vertilizer, hey?” Fertilizer! The- others roared with laughter. “‘Gaod eye, Bismarck,” commented An- nixter. The name had a great success. Thereafter throughout the evening the punch was invariably spoken of as the “fertilizer.” Osterman, having spilt the bottom of a glassful -on the floor, pres tended that he saw shoots of graln com- ing up on_the spot. - Suddenly he turned upon old Broderson. ) “I'm bald, ain't I1? “'Want to know how T lost my hair? Promise you won’t ask a single other guestion and I'll tell you. Promise your wosd honor."” > “Eh? What—wh—I~I don’t understand. Your hair? Yes, I'll promise. How did you lose it?"" o “It was bit off.” % The other gazed at him stipefled; his jaw’ dropped. The company shouted, and old Broderson, believing he had somehow accomplished a witticism, chuckled in his beard, wagging his head. But suddenly he fell grave, struck with an idea. He demanded: "Yes—I know—but—but what bit it off?"” “Ah,” vociferated Osterman, “that's Just what you promised not to ask.” The company doubled up with hilarity. Caraher leaned against the door, holding his sides, but Hooven, all abroad, unable to follow, gazed from face to face with a vacant grin, thinking it was still a ques- tion of his famous phrase. “Vertilizer, hey? Dot’s some fine joke, hey? You bedt.” What with the noise of their talk and laughter, It was some time before Dyke, first of all, heard a}gersistenl knocking on the bolted door. He called Annixter's attention to the sound. Cursing the in- truder, Annixter unbelted and opened the door. But at onee his manner changed. p“Hello. It’s Presley.. Come in, come in, res.” There was a shout of welcome from the others. A spirit of effusive cordiality had begun to dominate the gathering. Annix- ter caught sight of Vanamee back of Presley, and waiving for the moment the distinction of employer and employe, in- sisted that both the friends should come in. “‘Any friend of Pres Is my friend,” he declared. ' But when the two had entered and ex- chfllnged greetings, Presley drew Annixter aside. “Vanamee and I have just come from Bonnevillé,” he explained. “We saw De- laney thete. He's got the buskskin and he's ful\ of bad whisky and dago red. You should , see him: he’s wearing all his cow-punching out- fit, hair trousers, sombrero, spurs and all the rest of it, and he has strapped himself to a big revolver. He says he wasn't in- vited to your barn dance but that he's coming over to shoot up the place. He says you promised to show him off Quien Sabe at the toe of your boot and he's going to give you the chance to-night!” ‘‘Ah,* commented Annixter, nodding his head. “he is, is he?” Presley was disappointed. Knowing An- nixter's irascibility. he had expected to produce a more dramatic effect. He be- f)an to explain the danger of the business. elaney had once knifed a greaser in the Panamint country. He was known as a “bad” man. But Annixter refused to be drawn. ““All right,” he said, “that’s all right. Don’t tell anybody else. You might scare the girls off. Get in and drink.” Outside the dancing was by this time in full swing. The orchestra was playing a polka. Young Vacca, now at his fiftieth wax candle, had brought the floor to the slippery surface of glass. The druggist was dancing with one of the Spanish- Mexican girls with the solemnity of an automatom, turning about and about, al- ‘ways in the same direction, his eyes glassy, his teeth set. Hilma Tree was dancing for the second time with Harran Derrick. She danced with Infinite grace. Her cheeks were bright red, her eyes half closed. and through her parted lips she drew from time to time a long. tremulous breath of pure delight. The music, the weaving colors, the heat of the air, by now a little oppressive, the monotony of Tepeated sensation, -even the pain. of physical fatigue had exalted all her senses. She was in a dreamy lethargy of happiness. It was her “first ball.” She could have danced without stopping until morning. Minna Hoooven and Cutter were “promenading.” Mrs. Hooven, with littie Hilda already asleep on her knees, never took her eyes from her daughter’'s gown. As often as Minna passed near her she vented an energetic “pst! pst!” The metal tip of a white draw string was showing from underneath the waist of Minna's dress. Mrs. Hooven was on the point of tears. The solitary gayly appareled clerk from Bonneville was in a fever of agitation. He had lest his elaborate programme card. Bewildered, beside himself with trepida- tion, -he hurgied about the room, jostled by the dancihg couples, tripping over the feet of those who were. seated; he peered distressfully under the chairs and about the floor, asking anxious questions. Magnus Derrick, the center of a listen- ing circle of ranche: rnett from the Ruby rancho, Keast from the ranch of the same name, Gething and Chattern of the Pablo and Bonanza—stood near the great open doorway of the barn, discuss- ing the possibility of a shortage in the world’s wheat crop for the next year. Abruptly the orchestra ceased playing with a roll of *the snare drum, a flourish of the cornet and a prolonged growl of the bass viol. The dance broke up, the couples hurrying to their seats, '“"H the gayly appareled clerk suddenly isolal in the middle of the floor, rolling his eyes. The druggist released the Spanish- Mexican girl with mechanical precision out amidst the crowd of dancers. He bowed, dropping his chin upon his cravat; throughout the dance neither had hasard- ed a word. The girl found her way alone to a chair, but the druggist, sick from continually revolving in the same direc- tion, walked unsteadily toward the wall. ‘All at once the barn reeled around him; he fell down. There was a great laugh, but he scrambled to his feet and disa) peared lbruztly out into the -night through the me of the barn, deathly “pale, his hand ‘upon his stomach. xDabmey. the (018~ han wno:;: MMM new, approache: e of around l&znfil Derflc‘ lnx stood, a lit- tle removed, listening gravely to what the governor was saying, his chin sunk in his collar, silent, offering no oglniou. But the leader of the orc! Ta, with & great gesture of his violin, cried out: ‘“‘All take partners for the lancers and promenade around the hall!” However, there g a . A little crowd formed around the musician’s plat- form; voices were raised: there was a commotion.. Skeezicks, who played the big horn, -accu: the: cornet and the snare-drum of. enl!ng his cold At intervals he 'd be heard ex) : ““Ah. no! .at the end of the end! me the sausages, you, or less I your throat! Aha!-l know you. You going to play me there a bad S sausages and the pork sandwich, else on away srom this nh_&n!’;‘a e made an exaggera gllc.\nx _his' bi; o‘fl‘l‘ in its case, but the ystanders raised a great protest. The sandy-iches and . one sausagé were pro- duced: the other had disappeared. In the end Skeezicks allowed himself to be ap- peased. The dance was resumed. Half an hobr later the gatl g In the harness room was considerab y reinforced. show of re- It was the corner of the barn. toward whicn the male its naturally gravi- tated. Harran rrick, who only cared to dance with.Hilma Tree, was tted. mixed, Annixter and their way around the hall Into each other’s face from Rul B o e B Tl Cigars were Ilght-d. .;o:l gy T A B their chairs around the side of the room, the guests emptied glass Vanamee alone refused to drink. He :::m"'“ one hat femaay e e B T 35 Old Broderson startled Annixter, who sat next to him, out of all by suddenly winking at him with te craftiness. “When I was a lad In * he whispered hoarsely, “1 was - fellow with the girls; but r nudged him slyly, “I wouldn’t have it known!"” Of those who were ing pace with the others, glass clear headed: The Tovgh. Gross-grain clear-| ough, fiber of him seemed Jroot against alcohol. prided himself upon his power of ance. It was his nature. old Broderson, I “ldeh!':l:l!d r ulling at e n; com a A iy listen! x;!m ° pany. pt beard uneasily—‘“say! I—I-] a devil of a fellow with the girls.”™ wagged his head doggedly, shutting his eyes in a knowing fon. “Yes, sir, I There was a young lady in Ukiah— that was when I was a lad of seventeen. We used to meet in the cemetery in the afternoons. I was to go away to school at Sacramento, and the afternoon I left We-met In the cemetery and we stayed 5o long-I almost missed the train. Her name ‘was Celestine.” There was a pause. The others waited the rest of the story. nd afterward?” prompted Annixter. ‘Afterward? Nothing ' afterward. never saw her again. Her name was Celestine.” company raised a chorus of derision, and Osterman cried ironically: , “Say! that's a pretty good one! Tell us another.” The old man laughed with the rest, be- Heving he had made another hit. He called Osterman to him, whispering in his ear: “Sh! Look here! Some night you and I will go up to San Francisco—hey? We'll 0 skyl: ng. We'll be gay. Oh. I'm & sa—rare old buck, I am! I ain’t too old. You'll see.” Annixter gave over the making of the fifth bowl of punch to Osterman, who af- firmed that he had a recipe for a “fe tilizer”” from Solotari that would take ti plating off the ladle. He left him w - ling with Caraher, who still persisted in adding chartreuse, and stepped out into the dance to see how things were getting on. It was the Interval between two dances, In and around a stall at the farther end of the floor, where lemonade was being served, was a great throng of young men. Others’ hurried across the floor singly or by twos and threes, gingerly carryini overflowing glasses to their “partuners, sitting In long rows of white and blue and pink against the opposite wall, their mothers and older sisters in a second dark-clothed rank behind them. A babel of talk was in_the air, mingled with gusts of laughter. Everybody seemed having a good time. In the increasing heat the decorations of evergreen trees and fes- toons threw off a pungent aroma that sug- gested a Sunday-school Christmas festi- val. In other stalls, lower down in the barn, the young men had brought chairs, an in these deep recesses the most desperate love-making was in progress, the yo man, his hair neatly parted, leaning wit! great solicitation over the girl, his “part- ner” for the moment, fanning her con- scientiously, his arm carefully laid along the back of her chair. By the doorway Annixter met BSarria, who had stepped out to smoke a fat, black cigar. The set smile of amiability was still fixed on the priest's smooth, shiny face; the cigar ashes had left gra: 3 on the front of his cassock. Annixter, feari g, no doubt, an allusion to his game cocks, and .toqk up his post- tion back of the second rank of chairs by the musicians’ stand, beaming encourag- ingly upon every one who caught his eye. Annixter had saluted right and left as he slowly went the round of the floor. At every moment he had to pause to shake hands and listen to congratulations upon the size of his barn and the success of his dance. But he was distrait, his thoughts elsewhere; he did not attempt to hide his impatience when some of the young men tried to engage him in conver- sation, asking him to be introduced to their sisters, or their friends’ sisters. He sent them about their business harshly, abominably rude, leaving a wake of angry disturbance behind him, sowing the seeds of future quarrels and renewed unpopu~ larity. He was looking for Hilma ‘When at last he came unelxdpecudly upon her, standing near where . Tree was seated, some half-dozen young men hover- ing. uneasily in her neighborhood, all his . audacity was suddenly stricken from him; his gruffness, his overbearing Iinsolence vanished with an abruptness that left him cold. His oid-time confusion and em- barrassment returned to him. speaking to her as he intended, he aff: not to see her, but passed by, his head in the air, pretending a sudden interest in a Japanese lantern that was about to catch re. But he had had a single distinet glance of her, definite. precise, and this single lance was enough. Hilma had changed. 'he change was subtle, evanescent, hard to define. but not the least unmistakable. The excitement, the enchanting delight, the delicious disturbance of “the t ball,” had produced its result. Perhaps there had only been this lacking. It was hard to say, but for that brief instant of time Annixter was looking at Hilma, the woman. She was no longer the young girl upon whom he might look down, to whom he might condescend, whose _ little, in- fantile graces were to be considered with amused toleration. ‘When Annixter returned to the harness room to let himself into 4 climor of masculine _hilarity. Osterman had, deed, made a marvelous ‘Yertilizer,™ whisky for the most part, diluted with champagne and lemon juice. The first round of this drink had been welcomed with a salvo of cheers. Hooven, recover- ing his spirits under its violent stimula- tion, spoke of “heving ut oudt mit Cudder, bel Gott,” while Osterman, standing on & chair at the end of the room, shouted for a “few moments’ quiet, gentlemen,” so that he might tell a certain story he knew. But, abruptly, Annlxh.t;‘r discovered that the liquors—the c! whisky, brandy and the like—were low. ‘This would never do. He felt that he ‘would stand di ced 1f it could sald afterward that he had not suf- ficient drink at his entertainment. He ot Bin. ; Ao possessed oo s Tk, e slippery. The druggist hnya returned l:znr- leaned dejected and melancholy against the wall near the doorway, , unable to dance, his -vonln{;ta it appare! clerk from spoiled. The involved himself in filflnflofi nvol a which In a search for his handkerchief, he nad lost while snmme card, he ered into the feed room, set apart as the ladies’ a room, at Waist of Minna's dress, was ‘wal of ’s , was There a The clerk was ejected forcibly, mm filling all the nzil’hborhfld with feed room door, walting for her to come out, had invited the clerk, with elaborats sarcasm, to step outside for a moment; and the clerk, breathless, hustled hand to hand, petrified, :n)l:”mm . '“m and abou king y from less, witless, wondering what had haj Y But &? square dance was over. The g A B g LY A i i ol i Hight was plek- evi ng was going ) Inm'uym the floor when he came upon Hilma Tree quite anxiously among the crowd “Having a good time, Miss demanded. pausing for a moment. *“Oh, am I. just!” she exci best time—but I don’t know what come of my partner. See! I'm 1