The Seattle Star Newspaper, July 8, 1922, Page 9

(Continued From Yesterday) He stopped just at the entrance te the mill clearing and locked toward the cottage. It was darkened. Barry felt that without at least the beck: Oning of a light to denote the wake fulness of the cook, he could not in Propriety go there, even for an tn. quiry regarding the condition of the ‘woman whom he felt that some day he would marry. Almlessly he wan dered about, staring In the moon. Maht at the piled.up remains of his Mill, then at last he seated himeett ©n a stack of lumber, to rest a mo- Ment before the return journey to Ba’ tiate's cabin, But suddenly he tensed, A low whistle had come from the eige of the weods, a hundred yards Away, and Barry listened attentively for it epetition, but it did not come. Fifteen minutes he waited, then rose, the better to watch two figures sithouetted tn the moonlight at the bald top of a sinalt bill, A man and a woman were walking close together the woman, tt seemed, with hef head against the mah's ehoulder; the man evidently with his arm about her. There was no time for identities. A second’ more and they had faded Into the shadows. Barry rose and started toward the darkened cottage. only to turn again into the road. “Foolishness!* he chided himself as he plodded along. “She doesn't know anyone but Thayer—and what if she does? It's none of my bust Ress. She's the one who has the ¢laim on me; I have none on her!” And with this decisién he walked of. A mile—two, Then a figure came out of the woods just ahead of him, cut across the road and de toured into the scraggly hills on the side, without noticing the ap- Proaching Houston in the shadows. But Barry had been more fortunate. The moonlight had shone fully on the Man's lean face and gangling form; it was undoubtedly Fred Thayer. He Wag still in the neighborhood, then. Had he been the man in the woods, the one who had stood silhouetted a the hilltop? Barry could only Bucks. Again he chided himself for his inquisitiveness and walked on. Almost to Ba'tiste’s cabin he went; ‘st fast to turn from the road at the sound of hoofbeats, then to stare ae Medaine Robinette, on) horseback, passed him at a trot, headed toward her home, the shadowy Lost Wing, on his calico pony, straggling along ‘nw the rear. The next morning he went to Denver, still wondering. as he sought to make himself comfort able on the old red plush seats, won- dering whether the girl he had seen in the forest with the man he now felt sure was Fred Thayer had been Jierdon or Medaine Robinette, her his gray, harassed ist—the thrill and “which haunted @uring the days tn which he cut FF 83 Ba'tiste was not at the mill, where new foundations had appeared itn Houston's absence. A workman pointed vaguely upward, and Barry hurried on toward the lake, clam bering up the hill nearest the clear. Ing, that he might take the higher and shorter road. He found no Ba'tiste but there was something else which hel¢ Houston's interest for a moment and which stopped him, staring wonderingty into the distante. A new skidway had made its appearance on the,side of the jutting mountain nearest the m. Logs were tumbling downward slow, but steady succession, to exppear, then to show themselves, obbing jerkily outward toward the mter of the lake. That skidway had not been there before, Certain- ly, work at the mill had not pro gressed to such an extent that Ba’ tiste could afford to start cutting timber already. Houston turned back toward the lower camp road, won- dering vaguely what It all could mean, striving to figure why Ba’tiate should have turned to logging oper- ations netead of continuing to stress every workman's ability on the ro- building of the burned structure. A mile he went—two—then halted. A thunderous voice was booming bel Petrently from the distance: “You Me—un'stan’? Pa'teese aay your le—if you no like eet, jus'— what-yourny—climb up me! Un’. stan’? Climb up me!" Houston broke Into a run, racing along the flume with constantly in- creasing speed as he heard outburst after outburst from the giant trap- per, interjected by tho lesser sounds of argumentative voices in reply. Faintly he heard-a woman's volca, then Ba'tiste’s in sudden command: “Go on—you no belong here, Ba’. Es ADVEN MINK SWALLOWS FI “Ting-a-Ling—aling,” went Dr. Snufflew telephone in his little house by the hazel bush “Nick, answer that, pleave,” called Dr. Snuffies. “I'm busy taking splinter out of Scramble Squirrel’s foot.” “Hello, is that Dr. Snuffies’ fice?” said a voice excitedly. “Yes,” answered Nick. “Well, tell him please to Murry over to Ripple Creek. Marty Mink’s got @ fish-bone in his throat, and he’s carrying on something aw’ yal."” “AN right,” said Nick, hanging of- up. Just then Scramble Squirrel came Mmping out of the office, his foot ali nicely bandaged, and he heard what had happened. “Marty Mink!" he exclaimed. “A fish-bone in his throat! Goodness alive me! Is that very dangerous, doctor” “Oh, ‘not very,” answered Dr.) Snuffles learnedly. “Why, are you thinking of starting on « fish diet, Beramble, instead of nuts?” “No,” said Scramble, "I was just tiste, he handle this, Go ‘tong! Fuster than ever went Barry Hous road a8 it followed the flume, and to stop, breathless, just in time to e# cape colliding with the broad back of was, half across the road, Facing him were five men with shovels and camp, interrupted evidently in the Dullding of some sort of contraption which led away into the woods Houston looked more closely, then Tt was another flume; they connection with his own; already water had been div led from the main flume and was |fowing down the newly bearded oon. duit which led to the Blackburn mill, A lunge and he had taken bis |. |place beside Renaud, “What's this mean?” he demanded angrily, by the booming voice of his big com panton “Ah, Hub?’ The foreman cally. . “L've told you about 10 times,” he answered, addressing himaecif to Ba’ tiste. “We're building a connection on our flume.” “Our flume?” Houston gasped the words, “Where do you get that ‘our’ T own this flume and this lake and thie flume site “If your name's Houston, I guess you do,” came the answer, “But if you can read and write, you ought to know that while you may own ft, you don’t. use It. That's our privilege trom now on, in cold black and white, As far an the law i# concerned, this is our flume, and our water, and our lake, and our woods back there. And we're going to use all ef ‘em, a |much as we please—and it's your | Dusiness to stay out of our way! oul! You—what this mean? looked up caust!- CHAPTER XI The statement took Houston off came just as quickly, a recoil with the red splotches of anger blazing before his eyes, the ‘ge of hot blood sweeping thru his veins, the heat of confiict In his brain, Hfls geod hand clenched, A leap and he had struck the foreman on the point of the chin, sending him reeling back. j ward, while the other men rushed to his assistance. “That's my answer your’ shouted Houston. “This is my flume and-—" “Run tell Thayer! shouted the foreman, and then with recovering strength he turned for a cant hook But Batiste seized it first and, with & great wrench, threw it far out of the way. Then, like some great, hu man triphammer, he swung into ao tion, spinning Houston out of the way as he went forward, his big fists churning, his voice bellowing his call of battle: “Climb up me! Climb up mel ‘The foreman stooped for a club-— and rose just In time to be lifted even higher, at the point of Ba'tiste’s right fist, then to drop in # lump. Then they were all about him, seek- fag for an opening, fists pounding, heavy shdes kicking at shins, while tn the rear, Houston, scrambling jaround with his one arm, almost happy with the enthusiasm of battle, . jewung hard and often at every op portunity, then swerved and covered tion again. The fight grew more Intense with @ last spurt, then died out as Ba’. tiste, setzing the smallest of the men jlittea him bodily and swinging him |much after the fashion of a sack of meal, Hterally used him aa a batter. ing ram against the rest of the at tacking forces. For a last time, Houston hit a skirmisher and wae hit fn return. Then Ba’tiste threw his human weapon from him, straight into the mass of men whom he had Griven back for second, [tumbling them all fn a scrambling, |writhing heap at the edge of the | flame. “Citmb up me he bellowed, an they struggled to their feet. “Ah, joul!” And the Big arms moved threat- eningly. “Ciimb up me But the Invitation was not accept ed. Bloody, eyer discolored, mouth tand nose steadily swelling. the fore {man moved away with his battered jcrew, finally to disappear in the for jest. Ba’tiste reached for the cant |hook, and balancing {t lightly an one jhand, sought a resting place on the edge of the flume. Houston sat be. ide him. “What on earth can it all mean?” |he asked, after a moment of thought. “They go back—get more men |Mebbe they think they whip us, oul? Yeu? Ba'teese use this, nex’ time.” |He balanced the cant hook, examin ling it carefully as tho for flaws which might cause it to break In jcontact with a human target. Barry went on: | “Ef was talking about the flume. |You heard what that fellow said— that they had the woods, the Inke and the flume to use ag they pleased? How" “Mebbe they think they jum’ take TURES OF ENE TWINS H-BONE—CALLS FOR DR, SNUFFLES wondering what would happen !f you couldn't get the fish-bone out of Marty Mink’s throat.” Dr. Snuffles called to Nancy to |bring him his hat and medicine case before he answered. “Well,” said he, “it's this way— Jone is likely to lose his appetite as long aa the fish-bone sticks,” “Can't he eat anything at all?” ex. claimed Scramble. " said the fairy doctor, “not a “Couldn't he eat frogn or field | mice or moles or blackbirds or chip. munks or rabbite—or anything. Not ¢ven squirrels!” asked Scramble. “No, nothing!" Suddenly Scramble departed with. out as much as a goodby and run ning as fast as he could tear, He'd completely forgotten all about his sore foot. “Well, I declare” exclaimed the doctor. “What do you suppose he's up to? He even forgot to pay me my 50 cents.” (To Be Continued) (Copyright, 1922, by Seattle Stary jton, at last to make the turn of the/ the gigantic Canadian, squared as he hammers, workmen of the Blackburn | to hear his words echoed | bis feet for a moment; but recovery | until he could bring bis fist into ac | [perfectly devoted to me, pf, r{ MR FRANZ « with VTBACH ME HOW TO MAKE MY FIDDLE PLAY A'MEOW' LIKE A CAT, LiKe I SAW A MAN PLAY IN A Stow ONCE ? “MaTS SWELL _ Music ! 2 ' aaa ( / 1 | BUT You ARE KOT To | } } it” “Which they can't to the camp to get more men. “No.” Ba'tiste grinn’ We got enough—you an’ Ba'teers. I catch ‘em with thi, You take that club If they get ‘round me, you, what-you |nay, pickle ‘em eff.” But the expected attack did not come. An hour they waited, and an hour after that. Still no crowd of burly men came surging toward them from the Blackburn camp, still no attempt was made to wreat from they had taken over as their rightful property. Houston studied the flume. "We'll have to get some men up here and rip out this connection came at last, “They've broken off our end entirely.” “Ah, oui! But we will stay here. By'm'by, Medaine come. We will send her for men.” “Medaine. That wae she I beard talking?” “Out. She had come to ask me if she should bring me food. She was riding. Ba’teese sen’ her away. But rhe say she come back to seo"if Ba’ teens in all right.” Houston shook his head. “That's good. But I'm afraid thet you won't find her doing anything to help me out.” “She will help Ba’teese,” came sim ply from the big man,as the fron bound cant hook was examined for the fiftieth time. “Why they no ¢ome, huh?” roh me, Do you suppose they've n it up? It's @ bluff on ther you know, Ba'tiste. They haven't any legal right to this land jor flume or anything else; they just figured that my mill was burned and that I wouldn't be in a position to fight them, §o they dectded to take over the flume and try to fore |us Into letting them have it.” “Here comes somebody!” Bat'iste's grip tightened about the cant hook siv: part, &. When “Skéal” duced the audiences siastic, the play was profitable I was a success, but the part wearing and when the week of formances was concluded, 1 lapsed. All that week, my dear boy Ho never finally was pro- were enthu and was pe ode OUR BOARDING HOUSE 7iow! con NUN - "TWO VUN + “WO + ZUM-ZUM - ZUM + You MUST VEATCH TM’ NOTES MY POV © TAKE & BOAT FoR INSTANT «+ their pownession the waterway which | was | MENCE « ve SHE'S Wa HA How COULD rT Ruw mitourr TH’ OC BAN 2+ rr TH’ Same MIT MUGIC NOTES « ZUM-ZUM- ZUM + FoR ~~ YES, YOU CAN GO OVER THERE AND WATCH “THEM land he rose, squaring |walting a few feet in the rear, in dines for anyone who might levade the bulwark of blows which | Ba'tiste evidently intended to set up. Far in the woods showed the shad. owy forma of three men, approaching steadily and apparently without any dewire for battle, Ba’tinte turned sharply. “Your eye, keep heem open. Ket may be a blind.” Fut Houston searched the woods tn vain. There were no supporters following the three men, no deploy- ing groups seeking to flank them. re hook to drop to the ground. | “Wade!” “Who?” Houston came closer. “Ket ix Thayer and Wade, the sher. |Peuff! Have he fool heem, too?” Cloner them came, and the sheriff waved a hand In friendly greeting |Ba'tiste returned the gesture. Thay jer, scowling, black-faced, |slightly to the rear, allowing the two lofficiala to take the lead--and evi- |dently do the talking. The sheriff grinned as he noticed the cant hook jon the ground. Then he looked up at |Ba'tlete Renaud going on here?™ ‘tiste nodded erudg- the angular form of tow ingly Fred Thayer, “heem a what-yousay a big bomb, This my frien’, M'steu |Houston, He own this flume. This |Thayer’s men, they to Jump tt.” | “From the looks of them,” chuckled the sheriff, “you jumped them, They've got a young hospital over at camp. But serlously, Ba’. | tiste, I think you're on the wrong) |track. Thayer and Blackburn have jn perfect right to this flume and to the use of the lake and what stump- |age they want from the Houston pare ef (To Be Continued) OUR FIRST. YEAR By a Bride —~ CHAPTER LVII STORM CLOUDS ARE GATHERING IN OUR SKY~ JACK FEARS THAT HE WILL LOSE HIS JOB showed a symptom of Jealousy, never minded the cluttered kitchen nor the delicatessen meals, But there's one detail I never neglected, ‘Tired as I was, after a night at the Little Playhouse, I al- ways got up in the morning con: sclentiously and prepared a dainty breakfast for my husband 1 think a wife who doesn't get HOOPLE THINKS: To MAKE A VIOLINIST OF ALVIN, EH 2 GOT AS MUCH TALENT AS A STALK OF CORN HAS AN BAR ZASLVIN TAKESHI FIRST LESSON ==" himaett. | I'm gotng back |Houston seized the club and stood | A} moment more and Ba'tiste, with a) sudden exclamation, allowed his cant} |iff from Montview, and his deputy. dropped | ~ BY AHERN MRS, EZ VEH~ LIKE “| ME «MY FOLKS TMOuGHT THEY'D MAKE A PIANIST ouT oF MET ne GoT $0 GOOD MY “TEACHER GONG = He's MUSIC, Ss There Wa i ‘ar * | * 1 ol HOLDER |. NEWT SHES AREARIN®? — yr At STAM. eY- AUNT SARAH PEABODY RINGLEADER OF THE PRACTICALLY RUINED HITCH RAIL. AT MAIN 8 a Reason HELLO THERE, MY LITTLE MAN - You SEEM To BEA, GOOD LITTLE BOY: le / + Oo Seat OE nbc Cleland + | Page 723 } “Oh!” David's eyes were big with Interest, “was he shot or something, grandmother? 1'a) want a horm like that, too, even if he was lame, Did Mrs. Katie know whether he was shot?” “Just wait a bit, sonny,” grand: | |] mother aid patiently, “and I'll |] tell you about it, Agnes was sur- | prised, too, that Katie should be| #0 eager to own # laffie horse, but when she apoke of ft, Katie only |] said again, T want that horse!” | about being afraid, forgot cruel the Indians were, and how treacherous, and standing high up in the wagon, she waited till the warrior, who rode the beautiful horse with the lanv foot, came near, and then she beckoned to | him with her hand, and he came riding up clone beside the wagon. “Now, Katie couldn't speak |] the Indians’ language, and the |] Indian couldn't speak English, but somehow, by using their hands, and making many gestures and | what few words they both knew, she mado him understand that she | nted that horse.’ “And the warrior made Katie i] understand that he would sell the |] lame horse for @ sack of flour. > breakfast for the man who pays the pills {9 not fulfilling her share of the domestic contract, How can @ girl expect a husband to work well tn any ocoupation if he 1s obliged to «tart the day with a breakfast cook. ed by himself? Of course after Jack had gone to the office, I went back to bed. With out my proper allowance of sheep, [ would have looked haggard as the Viking’s bride, Naturally, my sleep interfered “She forgot every single thing | how | “I WANT THAT HORSE” “A sack of flour! Well, that was simp. There was a store house full of flour and Mr. Ran- doiph could pay the company for it when he came home, but— there was the danger of getting Gown out of the wagon and cross- ing the yard and going into the storehouse with ali those yelling Indians about. “So Katie sald, ‘If I open the dour the Indians will take all the flour.’ ag ‘One ack, one sack, ene sack,’ promised the Indian, and | Katie knew that an Indian's promise is sacred; If he said ‘one sack,’ one sack would he take, and no more. “So, putting her baby in Agnes’ lap, and climbing cautiously down from her high seat, Katle ran with the Indian across the yard and around to the back of the house. “Then a new difficult rose; the key to the storehouse was in- side the house from which she had Just fled; what should she do? Dare she open the door and risk letting this one savage follow her in? And dare she fail to give him the promised pay for his horse?” (To Be Continued) ee pacers nee Dan Rainer every evening Jack would come home to find the dishes piled high in the kitchen sink. Toward the end of the week, Jack looked thin and worn, If he-hatl been jealous of Bart, I could have explained his looks, "Sick, Jack dear?” T asked, “Beastly tined==that's all!” “Business bad, darling?” “Rotter!” I remembered what Jessie Lang. don Nad sald about her husband's with my housekeeping and about ai geke Pah Fas! sts sucotss, Sometimes 1 wondered it THE OLD HOME TOWN fH A NY DONT You LD LOAFERS wi ° GO HOME AND CHOP WOOD": YER ALWAYS. HACKIN SOMETHING — 2 er Home BRUNO’ FEATHER DOSTERS ANVILS @& CHINA Boas DOoR knoss FLY NETS CURRY Comes PIE “Tins HAIR RIBBONS & MUSLING UC Dy; “hy — o CAUGHT HERM DOOLITTLE WHITTLERS, WHO HAVE THE OLD WOODEN AND MAPLE STREETS - 1 HAFTA BE, 1’M ALL DRESSED UP AND MY MOTHER IS WATCHING ME! Soap? Xes, se, Let me lox MR, TRUS. ~ 4x SOmMG OF THEM, FvetTHer — THIS WiLt DO. Now, THON, IF You ») = WANT To HOLD MY GROCGRY) TRADE, You'Lt HAVS ONS OF Youve MEN Mix THIS SOAP WITH SOMG CLEAN WATGR ik : AND WASH THG FRONT Wineows I! Jack were in the right kind of work.| “The times—I know. It's easy to \Ho was getting bluer every payday | see why business is slow. But a fel- because he was receiving only his|low can’t help getting depressef, salary—no commissions. | wifie! Oh, yes! I ought to be glad, “Selling is the modern {dea of a|I am glad I've got any kind of « man’s success,” he said.to me. “But | job. But Peggins, I wonder—what my people never have made good / you'd think of me if I came home— in trade. Why, I couldn't sell bread | some night-—without my job?” to a starving man! He'd think some-| I silenced him with a caress, But thing was the matter with it. Or|my blood chilled at the idea. he'd expect me to give it to him!"} Those bills—unpaid—what a dis: “Now, that’s only your point of | grace—how Jack would feel—i¢ he view, Jack! Strely you can sell in-| couldn't pay them! : surance or anything else as well as}{ (To Be Continued) anybody. It's the times—" i (Copyright, 1922, by Seattle Stag)