The Seattle Star Newspaper, December 20, 1922, Page 13

é : (Continued From Page 6) | beard and this new air of self-respect upon him, Perhape they had for- gotten him, but it was no loss than | he had done to them. The prison | walle seemed already as if they hadn't | been true, He loved every minute of the journey, freshness instead of Mth, freedom instead of confinement, fragrant fields and blossoming flow era Even the stars and the moon, remembered of old, yielded him a peace and happiness beyond his/ power to tell, And his gratitude to/ Brram grew apace Beskies self-confidence and the constant, slow unraveling of his memory problema, each day yielded rich gifts; no lese than added trust mn each other. Always they found feach other steadfast, utterly to be re- | Med upon, Ezram never regretted for @ moment his offer to Ben. The| young man had seemingly developed under his eye and was a real aid to him tn all the problems of the jour- Aa the days passed, the whole tone and key of the land had seemed to change. They were full in the moun- tains now, snow gleaming on the heights, forests blue-black on the slopes; and Ben's response was growing excitement that at first he} could not analyza The air was) sweeter, more bracing, and some-| times he discerned a fleeting, delicate | odor that drew him up short tn his| talk and held him entranced. There) was a sparkle and stir in the air,| unknown In the cities he had left; / and to breathe it deeply thrilled him with an unexplainable happiness. } Someway it was all familiar, all! dear to him as if it had once been | close to his life, The sparkle in the| alr was not new, only recalled; long and long ago he had wakened to find nostrils, But the key hadn't come to| him yet. His memory pictures were ever stronger of outline, clearer in his mind's eye, yet they were still too dim for him to Interpret them. | Im these days Exram watched him | closely, with @ curtous Intense tater. | oat. It was no longer pleasant to sleep out In the hay. For the sake of warmth alone they were obliged to hire thelr night's lodging at cheap hotele. Spring was full tn the land, they had left; it was just beginning | ¢ mountains, visible from the | of Saltsville where they left railroad, were still swept with j ? if i z é tSEEEREI] Haute A i ; L t WEDNESDAY, DECEMBER 20, 1922. gas he i all 5 g3 a i but ox- res | pushed off, he saw | deliberately seat himself tn | land. heavens, Tl capsize you in a ” Ben said. “How do y: — it speeding it down-stream; and in ap- Prehenston of immediate disaster Ben was not further aware of Ez- SPRUCE 1OA?-Little Brown & Ganpany know of the old man’s delight at th: entire incident—first the anxlow hurried stroke of the paddie, then t! movement of Ben's long fingera as he caught a new hold, finally the whit flame of exultation that came tnt his face, For himself, Hen Instantly knew that this was his own sphere. He suddenty found himself an ab: lute master of hi of the paddle controlling It as a mas- ter mechante controls a delicate ma ohtine. The white waters were no more to be feared. He found that he knew as if by tnatinet, every trick of the riverman's trade—the slow stroke the fast stroke, the best stroke for ® long day's sail, and the little half turn in his hands that put the blade on edge in the water and gave him the finest control. It was all so familiar, so unspeakably dear to him Clear, bright memories hovered close to him, almost within his grasp. “Do you remember when you shot the Athabaska Rapides?’ Ezram had asked. It was all clear enough. In that lite that was forgotten he had evidently Mved much in @ ‘onnoe knowing every detail of river life. Perhaps he had been a m ing sense yhfidence and power. Fe understood, now, why the tmage of rushing waters had come so often tnto his dreams, Dim pictures of river scenes—cataracts white with foam, rapids with thun derous voces, pertious eddies, and then, just beyond, giaasy waters where the shadow of the conoe was unbroken tn the blue depths streamed thru his mind, but they were not bright enough for him to seize and hold He enjoyed the first few hours of paddling, but In the long, warm aft- ernoon came Indolence, and they were both willing to glide with the cur- rent and watch the ever-changing Vista of the shore. For the first time since they had come into the real North, Ben found opportunity to ob- serve and study the country. Already they were out of sight of the last vestige of a habitation; and the evergreen forests pushed down to the water's edge. From the mid- dle of the stream the woods appeared only a dark wall, but this was im- measurably fascinating to Ben. It suggested mystery, adventure; yet Its deeper appeal, the thing that stirred | him and thrilled hire to the quick, he could netther understand nor ing, hiding, watching the canoe glide past. The thought thrilled him. Late afternoon, and they worked underbrush move and waver at the | water's edge, and his heart leaped but whatever stirred kept Itself con cealed. And now, in the gray of twilight, Ezram saw the piace to It was a small lagoon Inte which & creek emptied, and beyond wan an open meadow, found so often and so unexpectedly In the North woods. Swiftly Ben turned the canoe into shore. Ezram cilmbed out and made fast, and so busy was he with his work . | that he did not glance at Ben, other- wise he might have beheld a phe- nomenon that would have been of keen interest to the allenist, Forest. His young charge had suddenly grown quite pale. Ben himself was neither aware of this nor of the fact ar. * a & * Starting Into the Christmas story itself, Mrs. Kellogg said, “The pioneers seenmd not to make much effort to locate near & spring, or to dig wells, but built thetr homes on the river banks, or the shores of little lakes, and simply dipped up with buckets the water for household uses. “Our home was on the shore of Lake Steilacoom and @ little pier was built out into the lake from which vantage point we did our dipping. “A day or two before Christmas my brother Sam and I were down after water when Sam said aud- devly, “Bfarah, do you know lots of folks b/lieve there isn’t any Banta Claus? “Humphf I scoffed, secure tn my six-year-old knowledge, ‘where 60 you ‘spose Christmas presents come from.’ “ Well,’ Sam argued, ‘they say; lota and heaps of ‘em say, that mothers and fathers give us everything. Fil up our stockings and all. Every single thing.” “ ‘Mmmm-m—I don't know,’ I said, about half bebeving what he @aid, ‘I don’t like it very well, ‘bout not having Santy be real. I Ike him’ bel C ‘5 Page 864 SANTA CLAUS IN 1854 Chapter 3 ram's searching gaze. He did not|that his heart was hammering wild- ead! ra amet lh oats c Grattle a * * “I was pretty sober as we went back to the house, and I asked mother about it, "Wait and see,’ her answer waa, “The house was all in « state of pleasant excitement. We didn't have Christmas trees thone first years, but a goodly row of home knit stockings hung from the mantis. “My brother Dave and my sin ter, now Mrs. Shorey, of Seattle, were home for Christmas from the boarding school in Olympia, and they, as well as Burleigh Pierce, @ lonely young man whom my mother took into our home on ali sorts of special occasions, because of her motherly heart, had come home laden with mysterious pack- ages, “I felt the thrill of Christmas ard the expectancy. and the my» tery, and yet I wasn't altogether happy because of what fam had told me. “IT argued tt out with mynelf, but came to no conclusion. Waa there or waan't there a real, live Santa Claus, who would come down the hie chiraney that night? 1 didn't know, And 1 wasn't happy. We went early to hed, but I couldn't sleep. And soon after my sister fell asleep I heard a soft noise by the bed, and a voice whis- pered, ‘Sarah! Sarahr” (To Be Continued) OTR ROARDING HOL JSE THE SEATTLE STAR PAGE 18 BY STANLEY. f BOVG We ARE SO 7 r. y GOREN “ToTELL Yous NES, AND wit WHAT ! WY GosH= F| "i Wve Been THAT MEANG F TNRES k OUR WOMEN'S CLUB \ f DECIDED NOT “To ALLOT TED A DOZEN OUR ACT COULD ONLY f GNE A CHRISTMAS NCKETS “TO SELL 1S SUNK 2 BE CHANGED f ENTERTAINMENT, Rca You = ——— — AB QUICK » Hi = BUT ARE GOING “ID BONS WILL EAC THAT CLUB AS A : “PIANOS — WoLD AN EMBROIDERY) | BUYONE AT OF NOURS OUG ane | BROOMS-PIANO? te EN) RAFFLE INGTEAD “MIRTY CENTS A Go AN! CHA oe, G) wasn - il 70 RAISE CHANCE, Won't poet Ang WER MIND} “{OTENAMAT WAS 3? You 2+ WH OFF D A RIGHT SMART, 2 site oungE eed oF FAKES WAY OF GETTIN ATTORNEY SANDSTONT. 19 CAL! Ling FOR ME WITH HIS CAR - HE CALLED AND SAID HE WOULD TAKE ME TO ; HE JUST MYSELF ABOUT Tom's ACTIONS - If ITS AT THE COURT House 1 WON'T Go IN! HE WON'T DRAG ME TO RID OF THOSE TRAMPS!: GI AUNT SARAH PEABODY CONGRATULATES MARSHAL OTEY WALKER ~ ON HIS TRICK OF HIDING A PUTTY KNIFE IN THE PRISONERS LOAF OF BREAD SO THEY COULD DIG OUT OF JAIL AND SAVE “THE “To THE EXPENSE OF HEATING AND FEEDING THEM ALL. WINTER. LOOK AT THAT NEW House JusT COMPLETED - ITS A PRETTY Seco Ke Wi ee i) some A ij WONDERFUL Home! AV WELL, THAT NEW HOUSE 16 Yours! A CHRISTMAS PRESENT PROM TOM TDYou- THE EVENINGS THAT HE WAS Awery WERE SPENT WITH ANYOLD court! ~ ly tn bis breast and his blood racing, like wild rivers, thru his veins; he was only thrilled and held by @ sense of vast, impending developments Every nerve Ungled and thrilled, and why he did not know, Earam be; to unload; but now, [his blue eyes shining, he began a covert watch of his young oom penion. He saw the man from pris- on suddenly catch his breath in in- expressible awe and his eye kindle | with light of unknown source A | great question was shaping itself in Ben's mind, but as yet be could not find the answer. | All at once Ben knew this place , Here was nothing strange or new; ii was all as he had known It would be in his inmost heart. All of it spoke to him with familiar voice, seeming- ly to welcome him as « son is wel- comed after long absence, There was nothing here that had not been known and beloved of olf. Vivid Memories, bright as lighting, swept thru him, He had always known this whole- some, sweet breath that swept into his face. It waa merely that of the outdoors, the open places that were his own haunts. It waa wholly fit- ting and true that the silence should live over the dark spruce that ringed about him, @ aflence that, in ite infinite harmony with some queer mood of silence in his own heart, was more moving than any volce. All was as he had secretly known; the hushed tree aisics, the gray radi. ance—soft as a hand upon the brow —of the afterglow; the all-pervading health and peace of the wilderness. Fixcept for an old and trusted com- panion, he was alone with it all, and that too was a it should be. Just he and the forest, his companion and the gliding river. He didn’t try to understand, at first, the joy and the wonder that thrilled him, nor could he speak aloud thoughts that came to him. Ravished and mystified, he walked noftly to the dark, still edge of the forest, penetrated It a distance, then sat down to wait. For the first time in years, it seemed to him, he wns at peace. A strange sense of self.) calization—lost to him tn his years of exile-—elimbed Mke fire thru him; and with ft the return of a lost virility, a supreme vigor tingling each little nerve; a sense of strength and power that was almost blinding. He eat still, He saw the twilight descending, ever heavier, over the forest. The sharp edges of the in- dividual trees faded and blended, the trunks blurred. He turned one fleeting glance of Infinite, inexpres- aible gratitude toward Mzram—the |man who had brought him here and who now was busily engaged in un- packing the canoe and making camp then locked back to his forests ’ } - PRECKLES AND HIS FRIENDS of the forest went in to him. All at once his heart seemed to Pause in his breast, He was listen- ing—for what he did not know. His eyes strained into the shadows, | Brush wavered, a twig cracked with | miniature explosion, And then two | figures emerged into meadow opposite him, Menor pp and her long-legged, awk- ward cal, Xet they supplied the' Many times im the past yeaa helhim, Me was owed pa it hy the % oF AlMeT tH8 | cow was ite cows, AND WHAT WAS. F}COLOR OF (CT SMES CSO - THE 3 Wex, FOR THe The wind brought the wood smelle—| detatt that was missing. They were ‘spruce and moldering earth and @/ the one thing needed to complete the | had seen fogs jammed fn the water, a | thousand more no man could name. | picture—the crowning touch that re-| veritable labyrinth that defied disso- The great, watchful, brooding spirit) vealed this land as it was—tho virgin | lution. wilderness whefe the creatures of the | the key log. would be ejected, and the wild still held full sway. great clarity seemed to sion of bis mind, Here, in these dark | logs floating quietly in the river, forests, wore the stim Forest, the alienist, had the beaver|his brain seemed to leap, as in one | dissolve, the tangled skeins straight- \impulse, to the truth, Suddenly he| ened out, the association areas of his They were only creatures of the; knew the answer to all the ques-| mind stirred full into life once more, wild, an old cow moose, black and/ tions and problems that had troubled| As he sat there, pale as the twilight him so long. But it did more, All at onos a/in one stupendous crash, settle and —— THE OLD FRUIT MAN TAKES ALOT OF PRECAUTIONS SINCE THE TIME HE GOT BUMPED By AN AUTO. touch of @ holy man, No wonder these forests @epths Were familiar. His boyhood and early manhood, clear until the vortex of war had engulfed him, had been spent amid just such surroundings, in just such silences, on the banks of Just such wilderness rivers, The same sky lne of dark, heaven-reach- ing spruce had fronted him of old, He sprang up, his eyes blazing. “I remember everything,” an inaudible voice spoke within him. Then he whispered, fervently, to Ms familtar wilds. “And T have come home” Buddenly, as if by magic, whole Jam would break, shatter down take ponses-| dissolve, leaving at last only drift iM of which|Thus it was with the confuston in spoken; and|his brain. Ajl at once It seemed to sky, the mists of amnesia lifted from