The Seattle Star Newspaper, December 26, 1922, Page 11

(Continued From Yesterday) xu At the very headquarters of Poor Man's Creek, whore the stream had Gwindied to a silver thread between Mossy banks, Beatrice and Ren made thelr noon camp. They were full tin ‘the heart of the wild, by now, and had mounted to those high levels and park lands beloved by the caribou. ‘They built a small fire beside the stream and drew water from the deep, clear pools that lay between eascade and cascade. Bea Darby slowly became aware that this was one of the happiest of his life, He watched, with delight, the deft, sure mo-/ tons of the girl as she fried the @rouse and sliced bread, while Ben himself tended to the coffee. Already the two were on the friendliest terma, and since they were to be some- where in the same region, the future offered the most pleasing vistas to beth of them. When the horses were rested and Ben's pipe was out, they Yentured on. Following a caribou trati, they ascended a majestic range sof mountaine—a trail too steep to ride and which the pack horses ac- complished only with great difficulty —emerging onto a high plateau of open parks and small clumps of the @arkest spruce. It was, of course, the most scenic part of the journey; the Inclination to talk died ‘They rode in silence, watching. Both of them were sure that words, no matter how beautiful and eloquent, could be only a sacrilege. The very nal beyond scope ne only sounds that noise of wild creatures t thetr occupations; per- the feeling that the were full of sound pitched too high or just too low for hu- to hear; but even this re- baent here, The high peaks before them, one after an- til they taded into the hort- aloof, utterly and lay deep over the wu, packed to the consistency of and the marmots had not yet to welcome the spring with, whistitng. From could see the HE eff ip } “Look out for Jeff Netlson and his gang,” the letter read. “They seen some of my dust” Netlson—no wonder Ben had been perplexed when Beatrice had first spoken her name, No wonder it had | sounded famtliar, And the hot beads | moistened his brow when he con ceived of all the dreadful possibilities of that coincidence of names. Yet because he was @ woodsman of nature and instinct, blood and birth, ho retained the moat rigid self. |control. He made no perceptible |start. At first he did not glance at Beatrice, Slowly he folded the letter | and put tt back tuto Mis pocket | “rm going all nounced. He urged his horw ward. His perfeot self-discipline had deep, but | ken. “And| | how about you, Miss Neilson? } | He pronounced her name distinctly, | |atving her every chance to correct him tn case he had misunderstood her. But there was no hope here | “I'm gotng all right, T know.” | “It seems to me we must be head. | jing into about the same country,”| | Ben went on. “You see, Miss Neil- | |son, I'm gotng to make my first per- manent camp somewhere along this still stretch; I've had Inside dope that | | there's big gold possibilities around | here” | “Tt has never been @ gold coun-| try except for pockets, some of them | remarkably rich,” she told him doubtfully, evidently trying not to discourage him. “Rut my father has come to the conchuston that it's really worthy prospecting. He's tn this) same country now.” “I suppose I'll meet bim—Tl Ike-| ly meet him tonight when I take you to the cabin on the river, You said his name was——” “Jettery Netlson.” For all that he was prepared for ft, the name was a straight-out body blow to Ben. He had still dared to hope that this girl was of no blood kin of the claim-jumper, Jeffery Net!~ gon. The truth was now only too plain. By the girl's own word he | was operating In Hiram Melville's | district and unquestionably had al ready Jumped the claim. His daugh- ter was joining him now, probably to how unlikely tt would be that Ezram and himself coulé drive the usurpers out: the claim-fumper te @ difficult even when the original dis- | problem, te i i g i if i eee ei he the tl ths $33 tii! i ui [et all Ht ‘knew , with many foes against him, he could best operate in the dark. His flashed ‘Th He glanced back at t! creature that followed graying, he saw that and startling change had come over him, He no longer trotted eastly be- hind them. He was stalking, almost as if in the hunt, bin ears potnting, his neck hairs bristling, and there were the beginnings of curtous, lurid yield many vegetables which their Indian neighbors had never seen before, Mra. Chambers sat in her living room, the baby in her armas, when she heard stealthy footsteps on the back porch. Stealthy footfalls were no ‘mcommon sound, and Mrs. Chambers, in ne wise frightened, stepped softly to a spot where sho could see without being seen and watched. On the porch stood a ble fasketful of fresh vegetables, fresh gathered for her table, and over the basket bent the figure of a squaw wrapped about in the usual blanket. Eagerly the brown fingers sought among the green things, and picked out this and that, this and that, which seemed to look specially good to the squaw. She was a fast worker, begin- ning at first to choose carefully, she very soon seemed to think only of how much she could carry. ‘nd in a «hort time ste waddied wf with almost all of the basket’s “sontents in her arma Carefully she held them in of her, cupped in her arma, ® leek nor a stem showing hind her, looking from any one of the many windows of her house, the beautiful white klootohman might be watching. And she was watching, and this is what she saw: Down the garden path, toward the camp, the squaw hurried, her eye on the ground, her stolen treasure clasped in front of her. Ané up the garden path, un- . | oink, |the gray wolf that jother creatures, the embodiment of seen by the hurrying, treasure laden squaw, came Mr. Chambers, with a twinkle of understanding in his eye and a quirk of a smile on his lip. Quite suddenly they met. Mrs. Chambers stood still and waited. "Ugh!" grunted the squaw in alarm afd surprise, “Ugh! then, “Andrew,” she maid in a« wheedling tone, “Andrew, you good man. You heap good man, Kind. Much kind. You heap much good to Injun. You all time give, give poor Injun. But your wife, Andrew; your wife no good. She no good: to poor Injun. Ugh!” Mra, Talcott said it was a funny thing, that her mother would gladly have given her what abe wanted, but the habit of stealing sneered to be so fixed that they simply didn’t know how to give it up. } day. VkKNow, MV DEAR, 1WK T Witt “TAKE BACK “THESE RED KNIT SLIPPERS MIGS CLARK GAVE ME AND EXCHANGE “THEM FOR GoME- ME GAUCV "TO WEAR EVEN WwW We PRIVACY OF one's ROOM * YW, DOING = TM NOT OF A CUR hunting hours were at bend The creatures of claw and fang were com- ing into their owp. Fenris was shiv- ering aJl over with those dark wood's Passions that not even the wisest naturalist can fully understand. The alr was tingling and electric, just as Ben recalled it @ thousand | hunters | nights. Everywhere the were leaving their lairs and starting forth; grasses moved and brush- lumps rustied; blood was hot and savage eyes wore shot with fire. The with unspeakable savagery, took the trail of a siow-shoe rabbit beside the river-bed; a lynx with pale, green, luminous eyes began his stalk of @ tree squirrel, and various of Fenris’ fellows—pack brothers ex- cept for his own relations with men —ang a song that was old when the mountains were new as they raced, black in silhouette against the paling sky, along a snowy ridge. Ben felt a quickening of hia own senses, not knowing why. His blood, too, spurted inordinately fast thru |his veins, and his flesh seemed to creep and tingle. There could be no surer proof his legitimacy as son | of the wilderness, The passions that maddened the first men, near to the beasts they hunted tn their ancient foresta, returned in all their fullness. Tho dusk deepened. The trail dimmed so that the eye had to strain to fol- low ft, Complex and weird were the pas- sions invoked tonight, but not even to is, beyond all the wilderness spirit, did there come such a madn much a dark and ter- rible lust, as that which cursed a certain wayfarer beyond the next bend in the river. This was not one of the forest people, neither the lynx, nor the hunting otter, nor even the venerable grizzly with whom no ons contests the trail. It was a human lbeing—a man of youthful body and strong, deeply lined, yet savage face. A close observer would have no- teed the faintest tremor and shiver thruout his body. His eyes were very bright, vivid even in the dying He wan deeply loat in his own seemingly oblivious to the world about him, He carried in his hands, He was on his way to report to his chief; and just what would be forth- coming he did not know. But if too much objection were raised and af- fairs got to a crucial stage, he had nothing to fear, certain He had learned a lesson—an avenue to tri- umph. It was strange that he had never hit upon It before. His blood was scalding hot, and he was swept by exultation, Not for an instant had he hesitated, nor would he’ ever hesitate again, There was no one in the North of greater might RRR ees ‘than he! No one could bend his will| They had seen a Ughted window trom | doorway. WILL GO WITH You « MIGS BENDIG GAVE SATIN BLOOMERS AND TLL SEE IFT CAN EXCHANGE THING ELGE © “WEM FOR A {T FoR A RBALLY 1 THINK NICE WARM 1S AGBATIN A RY “THEY LooK “Too FLANNEL. STREET CAR ! MR CUT fe HELEN HAS BEEN IN THAT ROOM ALL sAPTERNOON WITH THE DOOR LOCKED AGAIN~ | JUST WONDER WHAT SHE'S Ki BUT I'D UST LIKE "TO KNOW WHAT IN, SHE 1S DONG IN -THERE - )HAVE AN 108A! THE SEATTLE STAR BY AHERN ~ THE OLD) HOME TOWN, BY STANLEY. 2 aS Home L)] Ra [BrRunot WA-HAs LEAVE FTO rv ’ WOMEN “TO EXCHANGE IDEAS, RECIPES AN! CURIGTMAS PRESENTS. W’ ONLY “THING Vou CAN GIVE eM THAT “WEY won'y RETURN VeH GuPPOSE A PELLA COULD TAKE A GHAVE BACK “To “TH’ BARBER SHOP Ad’ EXCHANGE A PAIR OF — Ma) AUNT SARAK PEABODY HAS ASKED SO MANY TIMES ABOUT A FREIGHT SHIPMENT THAT STATON —<= AGENT DAD KEYES SAYS ITS GETTING Sia wIS tod aae ag - MAYBE | CAN TAKE A LITTLE PEEK AND 10US NATURE | EVERETT TRUE BY CONDO fz 3 meocnes cre | MINUISES OF Youve | Time, MR. TRUS. UD Cie -— OUT OUR WAY TAKE THAT CANE. RIGHT BACK IN THE HOUSE! YOURE. NOT, A DUDE, YOURE.A, HUSBAND AN YOUVE GOT TO PUSH THE [GO CART: } = “---I'D UxKe Mesr To Tau OVOR -.- HENPECKED afar, marking the end of Beatrice’s bard day's ride, “Ot course you won't try to go on tonight?" she asked Ben. “You'll stay from now on. He had found the road to triumph. Ray Brent had discovered 4 power within himself. Perhaps his chief, Jeffery Neilson, must yield before his new-found strength. arms: waiting in the darkness Ben could not help but hear his welcome. Many things were doubtful; but there could be no doubt of the love that Netison bore his daughter, Tho in Netlson’s tone. It had a strained, almost an apprehensive quality such as few men had ever heard in his voice before. Plainly all visitors in nd of the mountains were re- WHO Could Not Learn on a- amused, half-teasing words with led with suspicion, x1Ir which he received her dk not in the ‘He's a prospector—Mr. Darby,” Christmas An twilight darkened to the full leant dinguise it. ‘The joy and the|the girl replied. “Come here, Ben— gloom of the forest night, Ben and| It was true. The stars were emerg- | light of his Ben commented to}and be introduced." She turned | Keatrice rode to a lonely ing, faint points of ight thru the! himself, The gray old m-jJumper her new-found friend; and the Yuga river—one that h darkening canopy of the sky; and to|had this to redeem him, at least. the latter walked near, into the light! = @ e “But why so many horses, Bea- triceT™’ he asked. “You-—brought the east @ silver glint on the horizon forecast the rising moon. that streamed er him from the doorway. “This is my father, Mr. bullt by Hiram Melville years past and was just at the mouth of the They halted at last; and Beatrice | some one with you?” saw her father's form, framed inthe! Ben was not so far distant that he Gbe hastened into his failed to discern the instant change v Darby--Mr. Neilson. Some one told him this was a good gold country,” little creek on which, less than a half-mile distant, he had his claim. 4