The Seattle Star Newspaper, July 26, 1919, Page 4

eo 3 BiG TiMBER COPYRIGNT BY BERTRAND W. SINCLAIR AVTHOR OF “NORTH OF FIFTY-THREE Stella passed on. She wanted to/a question of qualities. It was some-| the Panther around to the inner land Bear, but it went against her grain to eavesdrop. Her pause had been Purely involuntary. When she be- @ame conscious that she was eagerly drinking in each word, she hurrted by. Her mind was one urgent question mark while she laid the sleeping youngster in his bed and removed her heavy clothes. What sort of hostilities did Monohan threaten? Had he let a hopeless love turn to _ the acid of hate for the man who Mominally possessed rer? could scarcely credit that. It was too much at variance with her ideal- istic conception of the man. He ‘would never have recourse to such littleness, Still, the biting contempt in Fyfe’s voice when he said to Ben- ton: “You understimate Monohan. He'll play safe * * * he's foxy.” ‘That stung her to the quick. That ‘was not said for her benefit; it was ¥yfe’s profound conviction. Based on what? He did not form judg- Ments on momentary impulse, She Feealled that only in the most indi: fect way had he ever passed criticism on Monohan, and then it lay mostly in a tone, suggested more than spoken. Yet he knew Monohan, _ had known him for years. They had | Glashed long before she was a factor im their lives. When she went into the big room, Benton and Fyfe were gone outdoors. Bhe glanced into Fyfe's den. It was » but a big blue-print unrolled On the table where the two had been "®eated caught her eye. She bent © over it, drawn by the lettered squares along the wavy shore line and the "marked waters of creeks she knew. _ She hat never before possessed a Yeomprehensive idea of the various timber holdings along the west shore Be of Roaring Lake, since it had not been a matter of particular interest to her. She was not sure why it “now became a matter of interest to ~ her, unless it was an impression tha’ _ over these squares and oblongs which ‘stood for thousands upon thousands @f merchantable logs, there was al dy shaping a struggle, a clash of wills and determined purposes 5 ly involving, perhaps arising Because of her. - She studied the blueprint closely. > Its five feet of length embraced all the west shore of the lake, from the <. of Roaring River to the Tyee at the head. Each was lettered in with pencil. ‘ her attention focussed chiefly on ‘the timber limits ranging yorth and ‘south from their home, and she noted two details: that while the limits ‘ked A-M Co, were impartially di ted from Cottonwood north, the marked J. H. Fyfe lay in a block about Cougar Bay—save _ for that long tongue of a limit where ‘she had that day noted the new ‘That thrust like the haft of a into the heart of Fyfe's tim- | Phere was the Abbey-Monohan cot. Ps the three limits her brother con- lying against Fyfe’s south- boundary. Up around the mouth ‘Tyee spread the vast checkerboard y-Monohan limits, and beyond on the eastern bank of the “a single block—Fyfe's cedar camp he thought he would iy? Immediately the query in her mind. Monohan was his men and ma* ry at the lake head. Fyfe pro- to shut down a camp but well- ‘climbing in price, an empty mar- st clamoring for cedar logs. Why? there aught of significance in at new camp of Monohan’s so near y; that “sudden activity on ground it bisected her husband's property? ‘freak lmit of timber so poor that ty Howe said it could only be at al She sighed and went out to give orders to Sam Foo. If she only go to her husband and as they had been able to talk over at first. But there had up between them a deadly re- She supposed that was in- b Both chafed under condi- they could not change or would for stubbornness and pride. made a deep impression on her, ul th@se successive, disassociated nger posts, pointing one and all to under the surface, to motives Sin potentialities, she had not ” ipsed before, and could only guess it now. |. Fyfe and Benton came to dinner | More or less preoccupied, an odd mood for Charlie Benton, After- ‘wards they went into session behind the closed door of Fyfe's den. An _- hour or so later Benton went home. While she listened to the soft chuft- a@chuff-a-chuff of the Chickamin ‘ dying away in the distance, Fyfe " @ame in and slumped down in a chair Defore the fire where a big fir stick i kled. He sat there silent, a half- & iked cigar clamped in one corner of his mouth; the lines of his square ‘Jaw in profile, determined, rigid. ‘Btella eyed him covertly. There were times, in those moods of con- centration, when sheer brute power weemed his say) salient characterisic. “Each bulging Curve of his thick up- per arm, his neck rising like a pillar _from massive shoulders, indicated his power. Yet so well-proportioned was he that the size and strength of him was masked by the symmetry of his body, just as the deliberate immobility of his face screened the play of his feelings. Often Stella found herself staring at him, fruit lessly wondering what manner of thought and feeling that repression overlaid. Sometimes a tricksy, half- provoked desire to break thru the ) barricade of his stoicism tempted her. Bhe told herself that she ought to be thankful for his aloofness, hig acqul- escence in things as they stood. Yet there were times when she would al most have welcomed an outburst, a storm, anything rather than that | deadly, chill, enduring day after day. He seldom spoke to her now except of most matter-df-fact things. He played his part ilke a gentleman be- fore others, but alone with her he ‘withdrew into his shell, Stella was sitting back in the _ shadow, still studying him, measur- ing him in spite of herself by the Monohan yardstick. There wasn’t much basis for comparison. It ‘wasn’t a question of comparison; the two men stood apart, distinctive, in every attribute. The qualities in Fyfe that she understood and ap- Preciated, she beheld glorified in »Monohan. Yet it was not, after all, Stella | |thing more subtle, something of the heart which defied logical analysis. | Fyfe had never been able to set |her pulse dancing, She had never jeraved physical nearness to him, 80 jthat she ached withthe poignancy Jot that craving. She had been pas sively contented with him, that was | alll her And Monohan had swept across horizon like a flame, Why |couldn't Jack Fyfe have inspired in| J her that headlong sort of passion? She smiled hopelessly The tears were very close to her eyes, She loved Monohan; Monohan loved her. Fyfe loved her in his deliberate, re pressed fashion and possessed her, | | according to the matrimonial design. | And altho now his possession was a | hollow mockery, he would never give | her up—not to Walter Monohan, She |had that fatalistic conviction. How would it end in the long run? | She leaned forward to speak. Words quivered on her lips. But as she struggled to shape them to ut terance, the blast of a boat whistle |came screaming up from the water, near and shrill and imperative. Fyfe came out of his chair like a shot, He landed poised on his feet, lips drawn apart, bands clenched, He held that pose for an instant, then |relaxed, his breath coming with quick sigh, Stella stared at him, Nerves! She knew the symptoms too well. Nerves at terrible tension in that big, | splendid body. A slight quiver seem- ed to run over him, Then he was Jerect and éatmly himself again, stand- ing in a listening attitude. “That's the Panther,” he sald. ‘Pulling into the Waterkug’s land: ing. Did I startle you when I bounced up like a cougar, Stella?” [he asked, with a wry smile, “I guess I was half asleep. That | whistle jolted me.” | Stella glanced out | window. “Some one's coming up from the | float with a lantern,” she said. “Is | there—is there likely to be anything | wrong, Jack?” “Anything wrong?" He shot a uick glance at her. Then casually: jot that I know of.” The bobbing lantern came up the path thru the lawn. Footsteps crunched on the gravel. “I'll go see what he wants,” Fyfe remarked. “Calked boots won't be good for the porch floor.” She followed him. He stopped “Stay in. It's cold.” in the doorway. “No. I'm coming,” she persisted. They met the lantern bearer at the foot of the steps. “Well, Thorsen?” Fyfe shot at him. There was an unusual note of sharpness in his voice, an irritated expectation. SteNa saw that it was the skipper of the Panther, a big and burly Dane. He raised the lantern a little. The dim light on his face showed it bruised and swollen. Fyfe grunt- ed. “Our boom is hung up,” he said plaintively, “They've blocked the river. I got licked for arguin’ the point. “How's it blocked?” Fyfe asked. “Two uh logs strung across the channel, They're drivin’ piles in front. An’ three donkeys buntin’ logs in behind.” “Swift work., There wasn't a sign of a move whert I left this morning,” Fyfe commented drily. “Well, take the shaded al ing. I'l be there.” | “What's struck that feller Mono han? the Dane sputtered angrily “Has he got any license to close the Tyee? He says he has—an’ backs his argument strong, believe me, Maybe you can handle him I couldn't xt time I'll have a cant-hook handy. By jingo, you gimme my pick uh Lefty's crew, k an’ I'll bring that cedar out.” “Take the Panther round,” Fyfe |replied, “We'll see.” Thorsen turned back down the slope, In a minute the thrum of the | boat's exhaust arose as she got under way “Come on in, You'll get cold stand: ing here,” Fyfe said to Stella. She followde him back into the liv. ing room. He sat on the arm of a big leather chair, rolling the dead cigar thoughtfully between his lips, little creases gathering between his eyes, “I'm going up the lake,” he said at last, getting up abruptly. “What's the matter, Jack?" she asked. “Why, has trouble started up there?” “Part of the logging game, answered —_ indifferently “Don't amount to much.” “But Thorsen has been fighting. His face was terrible, And I've |heard you say he was one of the most peaceable men alive. Is it—is Mono han “We won't discuss Monohan,” Fyte |said curtly, “Anyway, there's no |danger of him getting hurt.” He went into his den and came out with hat and coat on, At the door he paused a momen Don't worr: he said kindly. “Nothing's going to happen.” | But she stood looking out the win. |dow after he left, uneasy with a |prescience of trouble, She watched with a feverish interest the stir that |presently arose about the bunk |houses. ‘That summer a wide space [had been cleared between bungalow and camp, She could gee moving linterns, and even now and then hear |the voices of men calling to each other. Once the Panther’s dazzling Jeye of a searchlight swung across | the landing, and its beam picked out |a file of men carrying their blankets | toward the boat. Shortly after that the tender rounded the point. Close ‘behind her went the Waterbug, and | both boats swarmed with men. Stella looked and listened until there was but a faint thrum far up the lake. Then she went to bed, but |not to sleep, What ugly passions | were loosed at the lake head she did | not know. But on the face of it she could not avoid wondering if Mono- | han had deliberately set out to cross jand harass Jack Fyfe. Because of her? That was the question which had hovered on her lips that even- ing, one she had not brought herself to ask. Because of her, or because of some enmity that far preceded her? She had thought him big enough to do as she had done, as Fyfe was tacitly doing—make the best of a grievous matter. But if he allowed his passions to dictate reprisals, sné trembled for the outcome. Fyfe was not a man to sit quiet under either affront or injury. He would fight with double rancor if Monohan were his adver- sary. “If anything happens up there, I'll hate myself,” she whispered, when the ceaseless turning of her mind had become almost unendurable. “I CHIEF TAHAN Makes His Bow and Arrow BY CHIEF TAHAN Of the Kiowa Indian Tribe Why, hullo, boys! Going out into the woods? Show you how to make a bow and arrows, you say? Why, of course I will, and just like we In- dian boys used to make them, Sit |vight down here and I'll show you 80 that you can have them right away—and that reminds me. fie Bow was my adopted father’s name —Ziepkhocetan, in the Indian lan- guage. He got his name because he used a very large bow. He was so strong that he could shoot an arrow more than 300 steps of a man; and many times he was known to ride up to the side of a buffalo and shoot an arrow clear thru it, so that the point | would stick out on the other side | But, as I was saying, for your bo most any kind of wood will do. Cherry, osage orange, but second. | growth hickory will make the best, 1 think, Cut a sapling about the size of your wrist, cut off a piece of it about two-thirds as long as you are, and split it in the middie. Now, on the flat side, commence at the cen ter as the handle, Do the edges the same way. Cut the notches for the string about half an inch from the ends, and you've got your bow. For arrows, any small sprouts or limbs about the size of a lead pen- cil will do; have them clear of knots. Peel off the bark and cut them half the length of your bow. Cut the string notch in the smaller end, and straighten them by bending them this way and that way in your hands. For your bowstrings, any good, strong twine or fishing line will do. Tie one end of it around one end of the bow, in the notch, tight. Now stretch the string along the bow, tie a loop in it that will not slip, so that the end of the loop will be about two inches shorter than the bow. Now put the end the string is tied to on the ground, take the other end in your left hand, the loop of the string in the right hand. Place your right knee in the middle of the flat side of was a silly, weak fool to ever Walter Monohan know I cared, And I'll hate him, too, if he makes me a | bone of contention. 1 elected to pi the game the only decent way th lis to play it. So did he. Why can't he abide by that? Noon of the next day naw the Waterbug heave to a quarter mile abeam of Cougar Point to let off a lone figure in her dinghy, and then bore on, driving straight and fast for Roaring Springs. Stella flew to the landing. Mother Howe game put- t her heels, I been worried to the older woman bra@thed. “When men git to quarrelin’ about timber, you never can tell where they'll stop, Mrs. Jack. I've knowed some wild times in the woods in the past.” The man In the dinghy was Lefty Howe, He pulled in beside the float. When he stepped upon the planks, he imped perceptibly. “Land alive, what happened yuh, v" his wife cried. t a rap on the leg with a vy,"" he said. ‘Nothin’ much,” “Why did the Waterbug go down the lake?” Stella asked breathlessly. The man’s face was serious. “What happened up there?” “There was a fuss," he answered quietly. “Three or tgur of the boys got beat up so they need patehin’, Jack's takin’ ‘em down to the hos pital, Damn that yeller-headed Mon- ohan!” his voice lifted suddenly in uncontrollable anger. “Billy Dale | was killed this mornin,’ mother.” ella felt herself grow sick, Death is @ small matter when it strikes afar, among strangers, When it comes to one's door! Billy Dale had piloted the Waterbug for a year, a chubby, round-faced boy of twenty, a foster-son of Mother Howe's be- fore she had children of her own. Stella had asked Jack to put him on the Waterbug because he was such a loyal, cheery sort of soul, and Billy had been a part of every ex- | pedition they had taken around the |lake. She could not think of him as a rigid, lifeless lump of clay, Why, only the day before he had been laughing and chattering aboard the cruiser, going up and down the cabin |floor on his hands and knees, Jack Junior perched triumphantly astride his back. “What happened? she cried wild- “Tell me quick.” “It ly. Monohan’s got a hard crew, and they jumped us as soon as we started to clear the channel. So we cleared them, first. It didn’t take so long. Three of our men was used bad, and there's plenty of sore heads on both sides. But we did the job. After wo got them on the run, we blowed up their swifters an’ piles with Siant. Then we begun to put the cedar thru. Billy was on the bank when somebody shot him from across the river. One mercy, he never knew what hit him. An’ you'll never come so close to betn’ a widow again, Mra. Fyfe, an’ not be. That bullet was meant for Jack, I figure He was sittin’ down. Billy was standin’ right behind him watchin’ the logs go thru. Whoever he was, he shot high, that’s all. ‘There, mother, don’t cry. That don’t help none. What's done's don Stella turned and walked up to | the house, stunned. She could not credit bloodshed, death. And as the real significance of Lefty Howe’ story grew on her, she shuddered. It lay at her door, equally with her and Monohan, even if neither of their hands had sped the bullet—~an indi- rect responsibility but gruesomely let ly. Hears of Wild , Dogs BY THE STORY LADY The rain still pattered comfortably on the roof, Peter snuggled against his grandfather's knee. “Did anything else ever happen to you?” he asked. “Oh, yes," said grandpa, “I was that kind of a boy, Something was always happening to me.” “I guess that’s the way with red- headed folks," said Peter, “Tell me some more.” “Well, one time I went with my father to help him make hay, He owned hay land about ten miles from home, and every year we went and stayed till the b was put up. There was @ little shack on the place, and we did oug own cooking, and I al ways had a good time, “One night, when we were eating our supper, we heard some hounds off on the prairie. “The wild dogs are out again,” said my father The wild dogs were black hounds that belonged to no one, but lived by the game they caught. They were very wary and no one ever got "very close to them, They seemed like spooks. “It was very warm that night, and I moved my cot under the window. I even put my pillow on the sill and put my head almost out of the win- dow in hopes of getting a breeze, “I was soon sound asleep. But some time in the night I wakened with a scream. Two ere paws were on top of my hea@® When I yelled the big dog Jumped down and disappeared in the darkness, My ta ther came running to see what was the matter. I spent the rest of the night in my father's bed, and he ex- plained ‘that the dog probably was chasing a rabbit and it ran under the house right by my pillow. Then the dog had jumped on the window to.see if it could find it, ure enough, a cottontall ran out from under the house. And after I got over my fright I was never seared of wild dogs again, For they were real dogs that chased real rab- bits, and there was nothing spooky about them,” ~-HE two huge LE} |_ CARPE NTER MOORE, FIREMAN IS IN JAIL AND BOOZE IN VAULT F. Cartonil, 28, Spanish, and a ma- rine fireman, is in durance vile in the city carcei in lieu of $1,000 bail, | the bow and press your knee hard jenough against the bow so as to bend it, and put the loop over the end into the notch, Now you are all ready to begin shooting, while 28 pints of whisky that were seized Friday by dry squad officers repose in the dry squad vaults. Car. tonil was arrested at Pier B with the Uquor in a gunny sack, quick told,” Howe said grim- | We were ready at daylight |ighted close to Peter, NOW H { | | | / Z eI + AM 42 ERE— The smart society drama of Palm Beach, with gowns and set- tings to make you gasp, and a story based on the _ sensational novel of a noted author— ROBERT W. CHAMBERS The charm that made Irene Castle a figure long to be remembered by those who saw her dance is apparent in “The Firing Line.” She dresses beautifully and ef- fectively; she swims, dives; dances, rides and acts with sincerity and real appeal: TO WOMEN PATRONS! The July issue of the Ladies’ Home Journal has three full pages of de- ‘ scription of Irene Castle’s gowns worn in “The Firing Line.” Nothing more beautiful ever has been shown here. A Home in a Bunch of Moss BY THORNTON W. BURGESS (Copyright, 1919, by T. W. Burgess) ‘OST of the Warbler family had moved on North and Peter Rab- bit had been so Interested ih the af- fairs of others of his feathered friends that he had quite forgotten them, Then, one day, when he was in the Greeny Forest, where the spruce trees grow, he stopped to rest. This particular part of the ireen Forest was and damp. From many of the trees gray moss hung, making the trees look much older than they were. Peter was staring at a bunch of this moss with- out thinking anything about it, when suddenly a little. bird disappeared in it. At least, that is what Peter thought. But it was all #0 unexpect- ed that he couldn't be sure that his eyes hadn't fooled him. Of course, right away he became very much interested in that partic: ular bunch of moss, He stared at it very hard, At first it looked no dif. ferent from a dozen other bunches, but presently he noticed that it was @ little thicker than the others, as if some one had woven it together. ‘He hopped off to one side, that he might see it better, “As sure as I live, there's a little round hole in that bunch of moss,” muttered Peter, and blinked a looked very hard, indeed, to make sure. A minute later there was no doubt at all, for a little feathered head was poked out, and then a dainty mite of a bird flew down a@® It was one of the smaller members of the Warb- ler family, “Sprite!” cried Peter, joyously, and “@s be looked at Sprite he couldn't low help thinking that there wasn’t a daintier member of the whole Warbler family. Sprite's coat was of a soft, bluish color, with a yellow- ish patch in the very center of his back, Across ench wing were two |bars of white. Hig throat was yel- “Sprite, what are you doing in that bunch of moss?” demanded Pe- ter, appearing in the side of that bunch of moss. He knew that tail belonged to Mrs, Sprite, and that glimpse of low, and just beneath it was a little band of bluish-black, His breast was yellow and his sides gr: brownish chestnut, Peter knew that his full name was Pareula Warbler. “Sprite, what are you doing in that bunch of moss?” demanded Pe- ter, a suspicion of the truth popping into his head, “Just looking it over,” plied ' Sprite, trying to look innocent. At that very instant Peter looked up just in time to see a little tail dis- it told him all he wanted to know. “You've got a nest in there!” Peter exclaimed. “You needn't deny it, Sprite, you've got 4 néstsin there, What a perfectly lovely place!” Sprite saw at once that it would be useless to try to deceive Peter. "Yes," said he; “Mrs. Sprite and I have a nest in there, We've just finished it. We always build in moss like this? I wouldn't trade nests with anybody I know of.” Next, story: Peter Gets 3 Lame Neck. With the race suicide clause left out, marriage is apt to be a howling success. Radio-Active Pad Restores Health—or Money Back A fafe, wane and scientific method of overcoming disease by increasing the circulation of the blood and elim- waste products of the ' & well established fact that nearly every known ailment is ed by poor circulation Nugeiah- ‘The Radto-Active Solar Pad 8 energy, restores vitality and by _ increasing metabolism and ‘ing @ healthy cir. culation of the blood. Rheumatism, sciatica, gout, neuralgia, nervous pr. tration, high blood pressure and dis- eases of the stomach, heart, lungs, liver, kidneys and other ailments quickly and permanently relieved. Many complicated and chronic cases that have failed to yield to other forms of treatment have been quickly and permanently benefited by the use of the Radio-Active Solar Pad. 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