The Seattle Star Newspaper, January 3, 1922, Page 9

» LEY. oe trai SVAY, JANLARY 3 THE SkhALIiLeE SIAR VALE D OUR BOARDING HOUSE BY AHERN , THE OLD HOME TOWN BY STANLEY < r ¥ A at L ‘ . Vale hy say \>/NQ-NO { SO, ALEXANDER HARRIS E { You GAY DECEIVER! 1S tuar © KEEPING YOUR NEW YEAR 4 RESOLUTION, TO QUIT SMOKING, THAT I SUGGESTED 2 WHERE 1S YOUR WILL POWER ? LETS EDGE ALONG ¥ DO GAD = "% BUS AND LET 'EM \7 THERE PUT ON THEIR ACT OUGHTA by SHE'LL BLAME US NOW joe WAY SO FOR TRIPPIN HER TARZAN«/) A MARRIED} WHY, HIS TONGUE was //MARTVR LIKE | iTS THE ITS TIME SQUBAK \ REFORME Rs! TO CALL A HALT! FAULT? / —_ f= — ——— LIGHT HARDWARE CARR ED ; > FULL OF KNOTS FoR A // HIM COULD TAKE) | ° BIRDSEED ~ WIRE RAT TRAPS -OIL GANS == - THROW AWAY THAT VILE ! OUT GOME | pte tn na ener, Poe } THIS "TOWN wey WEED THIS STANT! ¢ WIFE | Iv "| Dee . ; hate Monee INSURANCE ! | LEADERS : ot eg NOT SO (Continued From Page 6& | tery of his own boyhood. He knew grown straight and tall, but his form) perfectly that there was neither 'N was sturdy too, There was a lithe | pleasure nor profit in dwelling upon th about him that eated thi abject In the yeare that he the larger felines: the hard trails of | had had his full manhood he had the forest had left not a re ounce tried to force the matter from his of Gesh on hig powerful frame. His| thoughts, and moatly he had suc. mold, except or a vague and indi» | ceeded. Selfmastery was bia first Unet ment in his longfingered | law, and the cade by which he lived: | and strong hands, was simply that of | and Mostly the blue devils had lifted woodsman-—sturdy, museular, un. their curse from him. But they were ring. His epeech was not greatly shrieking from the gloom at him to different from that of others: the) night, In late years some of the woodspeople, spending many of the tranquillity ef the forest had jong winter days in reading, are/reposed in him and the bitter hours usually careless in speech but rarely | of brooding came ever at longer ip uneTamunatioal. His clothes were | tervals. Rut tonight they held him homely and worn, He wore a blue! in bondage, mackinaw over a flannel shirq dark It was twenty-five years past and trousers and rubber boots: garments he had been only a child when th that were suited to his lite. [thing had happened. He had be But it was true that men looked | but seven years old—more of & baby twice into Bul Bronsen’s face. His | than a child He « features were rugged, now his mouth | the thought went he and jowls were dark with beard, yet written all over his sunburned face wag a kindliness and gentleness that jod grimly aa} ne to him that childhood, in its true sense, was orf | stage of life thay he had missed. He had been peodhire | of it by a remorne. | could not be denied. There was/less destiny: he had been a baby, strength and good humor in plenty,|and then he had been a man. There | & depth of intensity that was some-|were no joyous gradations i what startling; and it was hard to| The sober i reconcile these qualities with an un-/ once that th Questioned wistfulness and boyleh.| hood had been thrust upon him, and ness in his eyes. They were dark | he must make good. After all, that | ES the eyes of a man of action | was the code of his life—to take what ‘i who could also dream, kindly, | destiny gave and stand up ur : - thoughtful eyes which even the d If the event had occurr shadows of the forest had not bitin where but In the North, the f to beauty might have been wholly ¢ As he waited for his meal he| Life was easy and gentle in the river crossed the dark road to the little | bottoms of the United States. W frontier postoffice, there to be given | en could make a brave fig ed; be assured. But now, at 32, the re his two months" accumulation of let-| even fathertens boys were not entire |covery of the mine seemed am far SAY, HELEN DO You WANT f tera. He looked them over with stg. | ly cheated of their youth, Tenides, | distant as ever, Devoting his life to ME TO TAKE THIS CHRISTMAS nificant anxiety, There were the|in these desolate wastes the code of|the purpuit of it, he had not pro usual ferders from fur buyers, a few | life & personal code, primitive emo | pared himself for any other pod ia TREE OuT IN THE YARD? advertisements and circulars, and a/tions have full sway, and men do|tion: he had only a ruth | SEE You HAVE ALL THE general education, procured tom th 2B smal! batch of business mail. The} not change their dreams from day % amile died from his eyes as he read | to day Conse ancy and steadfastness | Hradleyburg schools and hie winter TRIMMINGS OFF OF IT A one of these communications after|tre the first impulses of their liver: | reading, and now he wan tree to another. The context was usually | neither Bill nor hix mother had been |face with menses pal ly YES, AND BE CAREFUL the same—that his proposition did/able to forget or to forgive. Here He would try once mere. If he did WITH IT- IT’s not look good, and no investment| Was an undying ienominy and ha SHEDDING SO 4ND) ogee sg m a plan os vege — ‘grmeem we the North be a far Dow? WANT IT ALL as his, The correspondence under | famed keeper 0 réte—the mys ' stood that he had been grubstaked | tery and the d uncertainty ER THE RUGS before without result, They re|haunting like a ghost. As a little mained, however, his respectfully} boy he had fried to Comfort his and Bill's great hand crumpled each| Mother with his high plans for re-| in turn. |¥enge: and «he had whispered to Only one letter remained, written | bim, and erted over him, prenaed in an unknown hand from a faroff|him hard against her; and he had city; and it dropped, for the moment, | promised, over and over again, that Unnoticed into his lap. His eyes’ #hen manhged came to him he we bane ‘thes tat X were brooding and lifeless as he, fight her wrongs and his own. a Big cat yi e-em stared out the hotel window into the|Temembered his pathetic efforts to pm rose wearily, then strode to the darkened street, ‘There was no use| comfort her, and {t had never oc. | (vor for & mome survey of the Of appealing again to the business| curred to him that he had been in |" folk of the provincial towns: the| Need of comforting himself. He had), Yer ® breath he stood watching tone of their letters was all too de-| been a sober, wistful-eyed little boy, | Hi" was the only lamp still mt cisive. The great plans he had made bearing bravely the whole tragic | CY the starlight. w and pair wld come to nothing after all, His| Weight upon his own smal! shoul.|'@¥ Over the town. The night wind proposition simply not hold water. | ders. came stealing, an icy ghost, up the He had been seeking a “grubstake”| The story was very stmple and | Ot #treet, and it chilled his uncov —some one to finance another expe- | *hort—-nothing particularly unusual | °°? threat. The moon rose over the ween tle boy had #ensed at} responsibilities of man % R STauuey (<« =, : = 3 ; he Sy ED WURGLER WENT TOLEAN AGAINST 5 i atte ; CIM his FAVORITE HITCH RAIL TODAY- ENPECK HARRIS BROKE AND DISCOVERED “TOO LATE THAT IT HAD BEEN HIS WIFE'S RESOLUTION =- REMOVED BY THE CIVIC REFORM SOCIETY Za The Trail of the Pine be made easier: na own future wou || DOINGS OF THE DUFFS You CERTAINLY DID WELL WITH r unusuA not win, the dream of his yout would have to be given over, He had fevoted his days to it such a fe an was abdut fo send Vir mont Into the wilderness in search of her lover had never come into his life. He sat dreaming, the ashe id in bis ply He was called to himself by a dis tinet feeling of cold. The fire was Hof the earty mid sas BY BLOSSER Modest Requ GEE, TD HATE To BE You, ALEK = TEACHER'S GONNA GIVE IT To You HEY, ALEK! war A MINUTE AN’ oid Lounsbury, of whom doubtleas|been simply laden with gold nd you have heard, and who disappeared | Bronson never returned to his fam = in Bradleybure. s only one pomsfhle ex The gold had represented senson's washings—an in the Clearwater district six years ago. 1 will be accompanied by Mr. | Lounsbury’s uncle, Kenly Louns bury, and I wish you to secure the amou outfit and a man to cook at once went {nto the hundreds of You will be paid the usual outfitter’s thourands—and Rutheford had mur rates for thirty days, We will arrive |dered his benefactor and abaconded ition into the virgin Clearwater for | in the North. Flis father had come |#PTUCe forest, ringed with” white. Al TLL WALK T’ FoR NOT COMIN’ To. “hi EXCUSE IF 3 half of such gains as he should make.| rly to the gold fic! of Hradiey.|Teedy the frost was growing on the S SCVOOL YESTERDAY NaN . > Im a few weeks more the winter| burg, and he had been one of teow | foots. ‘CHOOL WITH ANT, | would close down; the horses, essen.|that was accompanied by his wife The ring around the moon, the tial to-such @ trip as this, had to be|® tender creature, acareely molded |S'D im the air, the Little wind that driven down to the gate of the Out-| for life in the northern gold campe. jcame so gently, yet with euch sin side—three hundred miles to the| Then there had been Rutheford, his | ister stealth, all portended one thing bank of a great river. He had time | father’s partner, a man whom neith.|—that the great Northern winter for one more dash for the rainbow’s |r Bill nor hia mother liked or trust-| was lurking just beyend the moun q end, and no one would stake him for| 4, but to whom the elder Bronson |taina, ready to swoop fofth. Of it. He had some food supplies, but/ ave full trust. Somewhere beyond | course there would be likely time ir the horse-rent wae an unsolved prob-| far Grizsly River, in the Clearwater, | plenty for a dash inte Clearwater jem. He could see no ray of hope | Bronson had made a wonderful «trike | yet the little breath of fall was a) as he picked up, half-heartedly, the |-- fabulous mine where the gravel| most gone. Far away, rising and last letter of the pile. was simply inden with the yellow | falling faint as a cotlweb in the air, But at once his interest returned. | dust; and because they had prospect:|a coyote sang to the rising moon It had been mailed in a*fardistant|¢d together In times past, Bronson nge, sobbing song of pain and 2 city in the United States, and the| ave bis partner a share in it. radnéfis and fear that only the wood. <s fine, clear handwriting was obvious | They had worked for months at|man, to whom the North had sent ly feminine. He didn’t have to rub/ their mine, in secfet, and then Ruthe-| home ite lessons, could umierstand. the paper between his thumb and | ford had come with pack horses | (Continued Tomorrow) forefinger to mark its rich, heavy | Bradleyburg, ostensibly for supplies, | ————— st ee th \ sil quality and its beanty—the station: | He had been a guest at the Bronac ery of an aristocrat. The message | C#bin and had reported that all was DV ENTURES | - was singularly terse: | well with his generous part And | A re ee _— =; fap ee | *epeent sat be Be eamepseras | OF THE TWINS | e — Now, in THe SUROPSAM “I am informed, by the head of| | Weeks wero to fats before the | an on . ar CPA ayes TH Do <haee ar provincial game commission, 1 was known. Rutheford did not ‘obert. oy sae cee caus sematered as quiani Veit. th the mln at als be coe aie mcg * THINGS MUCH BETTER THAN for hanting parties wishing to hunt| traced clear to the shipping point,| THE SEARCHERS + = Do OVER HERE ---- he Clearwater, north of Bradley-| three hundred miles below Bradley. | ur but I do not wish to hunt game,|>urg. And he did net go empty tut I do wish to penetrate that coun. — The pack horses had not ea ” try in eearch of my fiance, Mr. Mar-| Carried empty saddle-bags. They had m > > Mabel Cleland I I Page 563 “BE CAREFUL, BOYS! David could not quite help be, No more fear of horses or rough | streets or Gangerous banks than of a wooden rocking horse in a Ing a little bit pleased to hea: how those pioncers, even t ~ tn Bradleyburg September twentieth | with the entire amount. No living they were always brave, and] nursery. «elec Ree nn ane exoeet Rutheford hiss ° no they were the heroes) “One day I remember mother “Yours wincerety. self knew where the mine lay; there wen tho they r “VIRGINIA TREMONT.” |was no way for Bronson’s family BM fintwhed the note, pocketed it either to reclaim the body or to of his beloved early-day stories,| called them and started them off were “regular boys” who got into} on that Job and they were driv ws | = emrefully, and a boyish light was in| continue to work the mine. Searet mischief and everything ing so very recklessly that she his eyen as he shook fragrant tobac:| parties had sought it In vain, nnd So when motherdear’s friend! called out to them . Der Meadl’ “hhs waa core it I py hon ae seer teat. wae or me told the skunk cabbage story,| “‘Oh, boys! Boys! Do be care. You MUST KNOW WHAT You'RE @ legend, a yatery tha had own * l do my prospecting the same time.” constantly more dim in the passing David could hardly wait to see| ful or you will go over that ALKING ABOUT BECAUSE WE HAVE Hie thought swung back to a scene year “They made a straight line for the sky and the last we saw if she wouldn't happen to remem-| bank. IONE AWFUL TIMG INDUCING THOS] E lagen Nee eeaee tectle a' aitant wc Wren 1 am frown,” tittle Bill of them they were away over the tops of the blue moun-|] wer something elso that brother| “That bank war at the foot of FELLOws To EMIGRATE TO THIS ip he had ade beside a distant | wonid whisper to his moth as she : kK . P yo lived stream and of a wayfarer who had knelt erying at hin feet, “I will go | Mins. |] did when he was about 10 years) ig peavey ioe po pis : m Counter fit ALL ABOARD ten of ead and journeyed oF / Rigserbeicw | ni ra in, eaten of his bread and journeyed on | out and find my papa’s mine. Also ‘There stood two balloons watting us for 10 cente—I mean for 10 min. old. ale Seg FoR CUROPE a never to pase frat wey SeniD-|2 will chase.down Rythetord, anil a” cus aocietres cevator to atop. |wien—enS we had work to do bers. ‘And sure enough, she did! | and mother could see them as ere ha en one curious circum: track him all over the world until 1) °°T thé ttle | Besides, you. were sque : . ” they went tearing and rattiin; 4 ck pulled rake and ie dea, yo © queezing me #0 “The wonder ts," she sald, ra | stance connected with the meeting. |ting him, and make him suffer for | NIX, Pulledethe brake and th down the street, car slowed down, then stood «till | bard I'd surely have burat, and the + : ; Ke " y io me “‘Har? they thought, and The balloons were the first things young lady dragged Blue Jumper anite-'aae le rie ) "lthat the Twins and Buskins beheld | here over sharp stones uhtil he, too, killed, expecially the boy ‘Who's afraid? and slapping the otberwise it might not have lingered “that we didn't get oursely all he has done’ © clearly in Bill's memory. It had ‘This was a Northern ebfld, and h } i encsesaaed’ the baby eyes would gieam and his an they stepped out into this strange | nearly blew up.” “We had no garbage collection! horses with the reins, they rat some previous occasion tures draw, and then his mother country up in the lmir. You may imagine how amazed in Seattle when I waa ltt led on and—down the street at tene halt-trig would try to quiet him in her arms, This was the North, the land of primitive emo. eof his owm| such a rate that when they ached the bluff, the horses uldn’t stop, and “Hello,” said the round, jolly.look- | Nancy and Nick were at this speech. |] everybody took ing fellows. “Welgome to the Land| “Are—are you our balloons?” ask- || trash and leavings as best he) r of Lost Balloonst’ ed Nick. could. \° ting familiarity Im his face, a that he could not Yet nothing in the past life had offered an|t!op* take and give, receive and) «onr cried Nancy. “Is this where 2 apewered the blue balloon “Mother kept two barrels out; “Over the bank they went, / tion. He waa a newcomer, Pay. simple Justice and remorseless | 411 the lost balloons come to? Nick | this time,“but we were. We are by the kitchen door. (There| horses, wagon, boys and garbage on his first trip north. #101 agp d when the storm | ing 1 have always wondered,” éearchers now, We have to search weren't any nice, close covered| “No, they weren't hurt, That's hand, had never gone Swept over the cabin and the snow | wyoq declared Nick. “Only yes | everyone who comes to our country.” cans here then), and when they| what I said. It'’s-a wonder we It had been but a trick of the deepened at the doorway, those ter. terday Nancy and I lost two balloons, “They search people who take were full, the boys got them! lived thru it all, but here we nation, after all. And Bill did Tbe, whispered promises seemed | wag teen to a circus and Mother | things? We didn’t take anything!” onto the small wagon, hitehed| are. net doubt that he was the man for | Wholly fitting and true baught us each @ beauty. We tied | declared Nancy, up the two cayuses, and took ‘One day they took ma to whom the: +1 sought “I'l follow him tilt I die, and he |-em together just for fun and first) “They search fotks for weapons, ){ them down and dumped them| race in a bugey when Western }] it seemed to draw and | and hiv wife and his son will pay for | thing 1 did was to let them go. too," answered the balloon, with dig-|]} into the bay, ave, was being graded. | he man’s eyes ‘Six | what he has dongto us.” “They made a straight line for the | nity. | “My! How those boys drove! (To Be Continued) | 7 cars in to long, for But the yeate'bad come and passed | sky and the last we saw of ther, ewes, ive fothing but an airgun sidite te bet ae) | warwater,” he murmured. “Men! ang nutheford Bad not been brought were away over the tops of the | and it's down home,” declar ic eh SE 6% is 2 : ss : Mi Hi | fern Tene ont by then, oF It gets to justice mor the mine four It mountains.” | cg, ate SOARINE Of Dine,” AaAWEN tut I'm not one bit afraid. | “I guess we won't trust the big enpiges tc Go eta “re ee Pci - iia bing yreks | i aaa i she'll never find her) way true that in @ past summer Bill| ‘Yes, 1 know,” nodded the red bal-| ed the other ig inca adore cats! Hig and little ones, tame [cats too far,” Cisay averred just as /Cumeed to Clusy Sheldon, There re-/fortune is going to atop it! Wepl had traced his father’s mifrdere loon, “and we were sorry to leave far an the shipping point, but there | you, but you'd had enough fun with! ¢ ill trace of him was irremediably Lucky boy, Cissy He went |or wild, 1 love them! And cats know | the director hailed him, riment in the game of friendship. | whether you like them or not. Now] I ran away to dre It was casy|Teasing Dick by a glimpse of the) “YOU mean—he's going to marry |Hnilodon, my yellow Persian,”~-here |to put the act with the big eats out|blue lawn would be one of my last | May?" I looked straight at Dick—"positively | of my mind because I ed them | hoydenish tricks. | | refuses to be stroked by a cat-hater, | no more than Smilodon, Waiting for my cue, off the set, I But he will descend from his favorite! 7 hurmed to put on the little blue |listened to the sentimental music of perch on the mantel to rub around |jawn 1 had worn in Barnesville the |@ violin which was to send me into * arrangement vright, 1932, by Seattle Stary ght he sat alone in lost. Bill had made many excursions into the Clearwater in search of the ont mine, all without success. He had had but one guide—a hastily wied map that Bronson had once are But I thought—no girl—could climb to stardom—for McMasters—- Confessions of a Movie Star (Copyright, 1921, Seattle Star) Hin er | [a stranger who happens to be a con. | night Jimmy and 1 had hunted up| tears, A screen shut me into a cor.) And be ft abn eg 7 in Oe ' irawn for his wife, to chow her the | apa an firmed lover of cata, Hin instinct | my wicked Smilodon in the coon On the. otee aie Rhone Ba bs = watt 3 eae cMas. . ~ siinage neg gece Mbt D yetede eoprice A [4 oTER -W ' THE BLUE LAWN DRESS ‘orms him who is a friend,” : d_selecter dre | Rang sis recto! pS See oY norm approximate porition of the elaim.| CHAPTER LII—WHAT THE BLUE LAWN DRES Pica Wie who We [Ment 1 had selected that dress in‘a| Bangs, assistant director, telling |e a a ned Nee age pord had to be | recurring| ‘The exteriors for “Love Lorn” met in the stadio for the stills. Clasy| 1 smiled at Cissy—but my tale was| spirit of coquetry, Dick was going | why that particular r ch reeurring| ‘Th 6 der, but with ¢ f My cue came. I rushd on the set 7 te , te smueter, orc on wnctn of aloan\|were to be taken in a Northern|was there, I found him discuging|for Dick. Just so had Smilodon be-|¢o bé reminded of his past. He was|run for me. ‘I heard Dick my | iva cpipaelegn: ef. -speabtnas: Galan athe Pay depen end Feige as watery, wt lenat of find.| wilderness, A few interiors, stiils|the act with the leopards which was|haved to Jimmy Alcott |going to remember what an clusive| “Sensitive little girl! ‘This Is for saa heist 1p the mystery, at least of fin onee my tears were not caused by the wailing of a violin. 4 e and jt# wealth and the|for advertising, Were to be shot in| to be staged in the forest | “Here's hoping the leopards have | fugitive Smilodon jad been, Dick| rotten gage for her. Her emotions the te father, ‘The last days |tho atudlo before we went “on loca-| “They're dangerous! Stupid and|the « nse," said Nandy, our|could never forget our long chase |are played ) cruelly—and nobody A occulta te aabthedes ater rf er | tion.” treacherous! You never can trust | publicity writer. “I see a bunch injafter bim—and our longer talk by|has a right to interfere! (To Be Contin jarues was in the cast, We|the brutes!” he averred. this, ‘Thank you, May!* [the spring. w “1 guess you haven't heard the| (Copyright, 1921, by Seattle Stax 1 in dex, aiw eturning to the same of his mother, gone at last to Slarting point—the tragedy and mys | old home iu the United States, coule Dick