The Seattle Star Newspaper, December 25, 1922, Page 13

THE SEATTLE STAR PAGE 13 | THE OLD HOME TOWN BY STANLEY: j MONDAY, DECEMBER 25, 1922 THE | OTR ROARDING HOUSE BY AHERN PREPOSTEROUS td ~OF--~. (DEA OF GIVING 4 ME A PAIR OF S E OVERALLS AG A CuRISGTAS GiFT! ison Marshall: STILL, I MAY BE 1900-Litthe Brown & Compay ABLE “TD UGE THEM HA Hae THAT Z ' SHIRT OF Yours (7, Yeu, AN Lp] WHO Gave BUS WouLD You courniit'Y ie Se ge WAIL A TAMA f= peopl | CIGARS WHEN You Sen rr Po peo [| SAID “THEY "D TH’ LAUNDRY D ote ave ‘TLL Be Hor | \ENOUGH >be ENOUGH" IRON VELL For / |PERPECTO tu’ GUY HOLIDAY CLEAN OUT SALE ~ALL FLAT IRONS ' MEY MUGTA ‘Yew ot E>) DARBY, expert woodaman and is aheti-shocked LL) SOMETIME WHILE HELP! Pigeon picwen| | Ne nace ea Ors and low Identity, He drifts Into criminal tite and + Hm. EY CaVATING Rae. — oa doing & k in Seattia, He is went to Walla Wall 1 UP THERE: 7 tentlary and confined until AMONG "THE | BSERAM MELVILLE, his mother's olf sweetheart, finds him and persuades R {) the governor to parole him tn hie custody. Karam and Hen start to UING OF Walk to Snowy Gulch, B.C. near which place the form brother iN THE CITY WTMAM MELVILLE, bas located a rich gold claim. Hiram died before he THs KiND! 4 time to récord the claim and warned his brother to look out for | JEFFERY NETLSON and his gang, who comprise RAY BRENT, who ts in love with Netison’s daughter, ‘PRICE NRILSON, who repuless his advances, and MEMINWAY. When simost at the scene of the ofa! earns that Nellson and his gang have ed Hiram’ ready on their way to Jump the ¢ t the dead brother on his claim. While in town Ren aa n from PENIS, @ wolf that was the pet of Hiram Melville, who had broken loose, Bi of his Age power over wild animals, Ben easily . Who t him as his master, While roeelvin me that she t# going to the ee of he morrow and that he is to be her et vil . fellow traveler NOW GO ON WITH THE sTonT xI | He bought suppliee—dlour and salt en found, rather as he had ex-/and « few other easentials—simple that the girl was not ai all Cools and utensils such as are car embarrassed by the knowledge that ried by prospectora Diankets, shells they were to have a lonely all-day | for his rifle, and « few, simple, hard- ride togéther, She looked at the mat-| wearing clot ent to bed dead ter from a perfectly natural and| tired, his func rially reduced, Wholesome point of view, and she | but before dawn he was up, wholly @ould see nothing in It amiss or im-| refreshed; and after a basty break Proper. The girls of the frontier | fast went to pack his horses for the rarely feel the need of chaperona | trip. ‘Their womanhood comes early, ahd) iieatrice came stealing out of the the open piaces and the fresh-life-| shadows, more than ever suggestive Giving air they breathe give them a/ of some tifid creature of the forest, healthy confidence in their ability to/and the three of them saddled and take care of themselves, Beatrice | packed the animals, As daylight had a pistol, and she could shoot like | broke they started out, down the @ man. She loved the solitude of) shadowed street of the little town. the forest, but she also knew it was) “The last we'll see of civilization good to hear the sound of a human /|for a long, long time,” the girl re votce when journeying the lonely | minded him. trails, The man thrilled deeply. “And The frontier had also taught her to | I'm glad of It,” he answered. “Noth- fudge men. Here foregathered many | ing ahead but the long trail!” types, strong-thewed frontiersmen| it was a long trall, that which they whose reverence for women sur-/| followed along Poor Man's creek in passed, perhaps, that of any other|the morning hours. The girl led, by class of men on earth, as well as the right of having some previous ac most villaincus renegades, brutish | quaintance with the trail. The three of the wilds, but she knew | pack horses walked In file between. them apart. She realized from the | heads low, talls whisking; and Ben, first that this tall woodsman would | with Fenris at his horsgy hoofs, have only kindness and respect for | brought up the rear. Almost at once her; and that he was to be trusted | the spruce forest dropped over them, nce and the gloom that Ben had known of oid. Ben knew the wild beasts of the This was not like gtiding In a boat field better than he knew women, so | aown-river The narrow, winding actual reception of the plan was/|trail offered a chance for the most Tost to him. Hoe felt that she was intimate stfdy of the wilderness mot displeased: tn reality the delight | From the river the woodsfolk were and anticipation she felt were beyond | but an occasional glimpne, the stir of ‘any power of hers to tell. She had|a thicket on the bank: here they tremendousty thrilled ‘and tm-) were living, breathing realties—vivid Pressed by his dominance over the| pictures perfectly framed by the wolf. She tked hts bright, steady, | frosty green of the spruce. friendly eyes; because she was From the first mile these two rid- 1 her heart leaped at the ¢rs were the best of conmpantions wtul body; They talked gaily, thetr voices carry- that he was|ing to each other with entire case) ideal come (thru the still giades. He found her THE SUM GOT SO HOT BY Noon THAT BERTRAM BUZZARD WHO CAME OVER PROM HOOTSTOWN TO SHOW OFF HIS NEW CHRISTMAS FUR COAT WAS PORCED TO CARRY IT ON HIS ARM THE REST OF THE AFTERNOON, HERE'S A PRETTY THING, DORIS, | GOT FROM ESTELLE - TOM, | HAVE ONE Mora WELL) WANT, You'TO MAKE THiS CHRISTMAS PRESENT FOR. f OWE PROMISE AND to KEEP IT- pt BUT You ARETO GET ITOMYY TAKE THAT LITTLE PACKAGE AND | OWN ONE CONDITION-You A KEEPIT, BUT DONOT -OPEN IT MUST MAKE A PROMISE- UNTIL WEONESDAY-1 HOPE fr m WiLL LEAD You TD AHAPPY SURPRISE | WEVER MAKE PROMISES. EVEN FOR A CHRISTMAS . i oF with an eager gladness to every fresh manifestation of the wild; and apite of the gay laughter she read With something of the dark moodiness and intensity that were his dominant traits. But he was kind, ton His attitude toward the Little People met with on the trail—the little, scurryt folk—was appeal! lke that of @ strong man toward children. She saw that he was sym- | instinetively chivalrous; Best Wishes tpt g hy iH i i! ii and she got past his barrier of re- serve as few living beings had ony done before. | She saw et once that he wae an @xpert horseman. Riding a half- broken mustang over the winding, brush-grown moone trails of the North t# not like cantering a thoro- bred along @ park avenue, and a) certain amount of difficulty ts the | rule rather than the exception; but! he controlled his animal as no man) of her acquaintance had ever done. | He rode a bay mare that was not, by & long way, the most reliable piece | gave him the best she had In her, | scrambling with a burst of enerey on the pitches, leaping the logs, bat-| ting the mires, and obeying his every wish The joy of the North-/ ern trails depends largely upon the | ana talking so gayly behind her, had service rendered tg Bn gee Pe; | qualities native to the forest that| tween one’s knees, gw It were lacking not only in her, but In jto the tut [much men an ber father and Ray! (SCAG TM NOT MSCLING Refore the first two hours were! rent. Seemingly be had inherited | Sond eae OUT GETTING I You, MR, TRUG iff f i : : | 3 ; i] i i / [ : i ‘ite z 3 7 ! i [ 4 = 5 if dz a te 3 £3} i Hi i u { ei fue il ? ‘ sf i t i te g* #f ay ef Hi} i i ¥ i i { Past Beatrice found hernelf thrilling | straight from the youngest days of | SH AIR AND Sloe A Coop, SIMKLE stinct and character he was wholly! The first real manifestation of thts |p 2 Pe AE reached the bank of Poor Man's AS HOW REAL CowBoYS ; the anfmal|the soul of music, he had come to : ft. SUNSHING, So 4--- with admiration at Ben's woodcraft. ine earth those traits by which 7 Sos PeSarenepy To take. fitted for life in the waste places. truth occurred soon after they ¥ ’ F creek. All at once he had shouted DO fT! RIGHT BY TH ‘as quick. |the earth with the Red Gods at Dis at her and told her to stop her! “a 5G fi Fi Not only by experience but by !n-| aboriginal man conquered the wild. | ky . 2 ce ae ; ty Evidently Ben’s|Just as some artists are born with : ae - 0 HOW YOU rned Fr , Tt was no- | beck and call; the spirit of the wil4 jorse, She drew up and tui tn LE HIN LE@— | teeable, how even the | things seemed to move in his being. | jer saddle, questioning. bardiest citizens an apprehen- | She didn't wholly understand. She) «There's something stirring in the | tive eye on the @uring the | only knew that this man, newly come ‘thicket beside you. Don't you hear course of any conversation with Ben.! from “The States,” riding #0 strateht | yin 7 j | Beatrice had sharp ears, but she) strained in vain for the sound that, | 40 feet farther distant, Ben heard) (CigTan TO @ Know A SIMPL® REN . easily. She shook her head, firmly | O ome Tae ME WHAT TO TAKG iv is | believing his imagination had led him | PPLieD SxTERnaccy, AND e But an instant later a coyot Ze “one of those gray skulkers whose| [ COATMEONT = walling cries at twilight every wood- | farer knowe—sprang out of his cov- | ert and darted away. | Beatrice was amazed. The signifi. | cance of the incident went further | than the fact of mere good hearing, The coyate, except when he chooses to watl out his wrongs at the fall |of night, is one of the forest shadows | for silence—yet Ben had heard him |It meant nothing less than tha‘ strange quickening of the sense: |found In but few--master woodsmen I'm going down to the Indian Hl "inet is the empactal trait and prop-| (% TAKE GNOUGH CHANCES WITH SOMG OF THE . nd nee what T can tnaiy [erty of the beasts themselves, CTORS, AND IF ['D USTEN TO You OTH@R ‘The queer white man, whom | ,,8¢ down she went, and hardly Ji" Now that they climbed toward) IBIQDS WITH KouR “SIMPLE ROMG DOS! L they called chummily “Andrew,” | te upon a chubby brown | Spruce Pass their talk died away,and| |@G@RTAINLY WOULD BPE SIMPLE ! often had work for them on his ae about the age of her own J more and more they yielded them- —— - ~ da to board which farm, or in his garden, and he Wrgkinst the side of the not too far front “w Mrs. Chambers said, the strange new house, the In-| “there;s one more place to nearch. selves to the hushed mood of the for- est. Their trail was no longer clear- | paid them well. 2 } f 4 “Kioochman” there wan worl for | 2h8ich Of bieck Mtoress of a civ- | thorofare in the true sense—« wind- WY) 4, Nm , their fat squaws, and for this diized baby dress, and spread out Jing path made by the feet of the Wi ion bh, 1 wife of Andrew paid well on tee ground ts goth Rigo} \grent moose journeying from valley - } HI { “ A Hh A And besides all this, there were | [Me long Uyti'" |to valley. A mi py bits of food, strange-looking, Bhe hesitated a moment, and || Wild life became ever more mant- =f) 4 -_- } en Ke ff strangetasting, but delicious, | then, takin iy fest. They saw the grouse, Frank- 7 é ‘wun ME My ity, S which one might, and often did, lin's fowl #0 well beloved by tender- y yy dipyes Al, yin feet becaune of their propensity to att . pi squaw answered at all fussed wu your baby's how tuck under one’s blanket and 4 the éarry back to the camp of the gphey: ig n Stwastes. Siothes, But ted to This wife of Andrew was very | MY eer would look, dressed up fair, and whe held her shoulders | like that’ 5 “ “B baby needs them,” in- very straight, and for her baby | gigted the white mother she made many, many soft mur: “eat be fe ee. men! ternal er own ton ~ eal proche ee fan ave “am if, you want ‘om. I a! ont want ‘6 It was for this—the washing | “Bo in the course of « fow hours and froning—that the bquaws| 7°°%, Wardrobe was returned were 90 well and #o often paid.| and the two mothers were at still under fire and give an unsteady marksman a second shot. Fool hens, the woodsman called them, and the Motley and mark of their wend mem | mmm rn tality were a red badge near the eye.|backward and stood on their) might be only patches of fur in cities, The fat birds perched on the tree| haunches, all the time chattering in| but they were living, breathing per- | portant woods creatures) and once, sponded with the Joy of a true nature limbs over the trail, relying on their|the greatest excitement. Once @| sonages hore, Particularly they were|the fresh mud showed that an old}lover, Her heart thrilled and her | delight he knew only an all-p mottled plumage, blending perfectly | poreupl tupid, inoffensive old | personages to the trout. Ben knew |grizzly—the forest monarch, thejeyes were bright; and every Rew |ing sense of comfort, as @ man with the dull grays and browns of| Urson who carries his fort around on| perfectly how the allver fish had ancient, savage despot of the woods|track was a fresh surprise and de- pet? to hia hi to keep them out of sight.| his back-rattied his quills in a|learned to dart with such rapidity in|of which all foresters, naar and far,| light, But Ben was affected mor | ¥POn siaped —_s But such wiles did not deceive Ben.|near-by thicket; and once they|the water, They learned It keeping | speak with deop respect—had passed | deeply still. The response he made |@mong the people whom he that way but a few minutes before. | had its origin and font in deeply hid-|and understands. TRwlliangs “Andrew,” recaps | oly And once, in provision for thelr noon | caught @ glimpse of a mule deer on| of horseflesh McClurg owned, yet Cer "1 Gauges wT et the ndiong aian't bro lunch, a fat cock tumbled thru the/| the nilletae This was rather too|out of the way of the otter and the| Foresters both, the two riders had|den centers of his spirit; mysterious (Continued Tomorrow) tate plenty of clothes for this| Mis. Chambers. She was too Gig- | branches at Beatrice's pistol shot. | cold and hard a country, howevor, to | mink. every reason to believe that the old| realms that no introspection could re- pitied, an ‘The pine aquirrels seemed to belbe beloved by deer, Mostly tiey| They saw the trackn of marten—|tyrant was lurking somewhere tn the| veal or words lay bare. 4 baby and she simply has barely n| ing the ehilditke Indians obey. change left, Wh: . ’t let their habit of steal- 4 rare oe Sey SP ine Gitte things Ko without They looked high and low,| proof, and tho she was alwi ze thinking the washerwoman Kind and generous arith ‘e , a ey were 4 4 ef might have tucked them away In| Bir. "finny things srew out of 'o gome out-oftheway corner, but] ghat fecling. 4 no baby clothes could they find, (To Be Continued) meaner He knew nothing of Beatrice’ having some sort of a competitive | dwelt further up-river. the mink that has gone into the tree | thickets beside the trail, half in ang- field meet, and the tricks they did in ‘All manner of wild creatures, great | tops to live; the doglike imprints of aljer, half in curlosity watching them | sense of constant surprise. In his tha trees above the trail filled the two| and small, had left signs on the trails, |coyote at which Fenris whimpered |ride past. And of course the tracks|own heart he had known that all riders with delight. They sped up| ‘There were tracks of otter and mink,/and scratched in excitement (doubt-|of moose, and of their fellows of | these woodspeople would be waiting and down the trunks; they sprang | those two rrver hunters whose skins, |less wishing to run him down and} mighty antlers, the caribou, were In| for him—just as they were—and he from limb to mb; they flicked their |on ladies’ shoulders, are better known | bite him, as ts the usual reception to! profusion, would have known far greater tails and turned their heads than the animals themselves, They! the detested coyote by the more im- ‘To all these things Beatrice re- ‘amezement to have found some of