The Seattle Star Newspaper, December 27, 1922, Page 11

ke (Continued From Yesterday) Ben had already decided upon his course of action and had his answer feady. He knew perfectly that it would only put Nellaon on bts guard if he stated his true position; and Deaides, he wanted word of Exram. “I may have @ wrong steer, Mr. Noll- son,” he sald, “but a man I met down on the river-trail, out ef Snowy GQuich, advised me to come here. He said that he had some sort of a claim | up here that brother left him, | and tho it was @ pocket country, he | thought there'd soon be @ great rush | up this way.” | “| hardly know who tt could have | that you met,” Neilson began WEDNESDAY, DECEMBER 27, 1922. —— - — THE SKY LINE SPRUCE 1900 -Little Brows & Company He stood at the edge of the fire Nght, gazing out Into the darkened forest. The wolf crouched beside him: alert, watching his face for any command. It was wholly plain that the gaunt woods creature had accept ed him at once his master; and that the bond between them, because of some secret similarity of «ptrtt, was already far closer than between most masters and their peta Ben sensed another side of the for eat tonight because of his inborn love of the waste places not often seen The thickets were menacing, sinister tonight, The spruce crept up to the skyline with darkness and mystery he realized the eternal malevolence that haunts their silent fastnesses, ‘They would have tricks in plenty to play om such as would lose their way doubdtfully, “He didn't tell you his/ name——" {on their dusky trails! Oh, they “Molvilla, I belleve that was tt.| Would have no mercy or remorse for And if you'll tell me how to find him, jeny one who was lost, out there, to- Tit try to go on tonight. I brought | Bleht! Ben felt a heavy burden of dread! him some of his belongings from Snowy Gulch “Melville, eh? I guess I know who you mean now. But no—I don't know of any claim unless It's over east, beyond here. Maybe further down the river.” Ben made no reply at onoe; but his mind «ped like lightning. Of course Neitson was lying about the claim; he know perfectly that at that mo- ment he was occupying one of Hiram Melville's cabina. He was a first- lass actor, too—hbis voice indicating | searcely no acquaintance with or in-| terest In the name. “He hasn't come up this way? Ben asked casually. “He hasn't come thru here that I know of. Of course I'm working at my claim—with my partners—and he might have gone thru without our It seems rather un- : i : arf i i 4 | t i 358 HU i fi Ihe 3 It was at the December meet- ing of the Pioneer Daughters that David and Peggy heard the ladies tell about their school experiences. Mra. Bowden was hostess, but she had just come home from Walla Walla where she had been attending the 50th anniversary of the founding of St. Paul's School for Girls, so the otter ladies made her tell all about it. She was one of the little girls tm the school; it was divided that way, the “big girls” and the “lit- tle girls”—ng_ grades. And Mrs. Bowden said her back is nice and straight because of the way in which the “little girls’ were disciplined. If they failed to work a prob jem, or to spell a word, or to answer @ question, or if they giggled or whispered, or wrote notes on .their slates, or were naughty in any way, the teacher 14 say, “Come! stand up in floor! Now! hold your shoul- ders back!” “And,” said Mra. Bowdon, “T stood up in the floor so much that to this day I have a good straight back.” She said that up to the time that schoo! was founded, the chil- dren of Eastern Washington were school tramps. A few months at this Little school and # few months Page 870 WHAT SHE WORE TO SCHOOL | Even now, old Heram might be | wandering, vainly, thru the gloomy, | whispering woods, ever penetyating farther into thetr merciless solltudes And no homed smoked in the clear- ings, no camps glowed in the tm mensity of the dark—out there. This was just the beginning of the forest; |clear into the shadow of the Arctic Circle, where the woodtands gave way to the weary wastes of barrens, | there was no break, no tilled fields or fisher’s villnges, only an occa stonal Indian encampment which not even a wolf, running thru the night, might find. His supply of food would quickly be exhausted, fatigue would break his valiant spirit, Ben planned @n extensive search for his tracks as soon as the morning light permitted him to sea, He missed the old man’s comrade- ship with a deep and farvid longing. ‘They had come to count on each other, these past weeka It wasn't | alone infinite gratitude that he felt for him now, The thing went too i : I Fi i HE i i fi alt i He the moon, shining tnoredibty the tree tepa, showering down thru Uitte rifts in the withholding Dranches, enchanting the place as by the weaving of « dream. The moon madness caught up Ben ike fama, enthralling him as never before. He knew that white sphere of old. And all at once he realised that here, at hia knees, was one who knew ft too— | | f a agi si [ i fi t zi [ H z i i i HH if; i 3 3 ; 3 H i ib ‘al & 3 iH : i i 3 Ee: FERRE is eeEER? at that, no regular place to go at all. She even remembers what she wore to school the first day she went. Mind you, #he wi Uttle “ttle girl’—but her blue and white plaid dress came down to her ankles and completely cov- ered her w cotton stockings, and she wore a wide-brimmed hat which she called a “fiat.” Her step-father took her to school, and to keep her dry (it wes & rainy day) he carried a greenish cotton umbrella which she says wan about the size of the ones @eome Graymen have fastened over their drivers’ senate. They paid tuition in that old school, and there was often a girl whose father head not the Money to send her to achool. @ great deal an ry t in his old “buckboard” out in the country and talk to the ff about how it could be man One no th od. ther had lot of cattle, bishop took @ cow for aui- id the little girl went to achool. Then Mrs. Moore told a story g@bout the first public school in Walla Wi ha two room * on the pupils below. I ut that hole that Mra. Moores te Be Continued) Eh badal ated as AW WAW “ee TM Go!’ to HoME* THIS ANY No KIND OF A GAME® You GPOIL EVERYTHING 1Do* I MAKE THEM STAND UP Nict IN A ROW, THEN Y'Go =\ AN’ ROLL “TW’ BALL TT), an! KNOCK'M ALL } DOWN b= WAW = 4 N WN (Wut raps Pt DOINGS OF THE DU. OTTR ROARDING HOU. PPoseEDd To Do | A RoRN ourr LIG'EN, IF THEY WereN'T ——— wien) ate STOPPED S'POGED “To BE KNOCKED) el we a THE SEATTLE STAR BY AHERN SE CLIFFORD 1S ON OF “MOSE KIDS WHO'D PUTUP A] | WOWL BECAISE WHY WHY CLIFFORD ~ LIG'EN, “MaTS WHAT I'M DOWN, THEN WHY WOULD "THEY MAKEM TO SO EAGY To FALL OVER? WHY WOULD THEY HUH 2 JAN EXTERTANG un S FFS PAGE 11 BY STANLEY. SS ul J = ~__ (WHATS EVERY BODY YELLING AT US FOR THE OLI) HOME TOWN fal wi al — —(HEY SARAH THAT PESKY BOX OF FREIGHT, HAS COME INA Pad AUNT SARA PEABODY HAD HER HEAD BUNDLED UPSO THAT STATION AGENT DAD KEYES HAD CHASE HER NEARLY THREE BLOCKS BEFORE HE COULD MAKE HER HEAR WHAT HE HAD “To SAY ~ Guan, ~ We MAY WE'LL HAVE PLENTY | MORE Room OLIWA- NEED A isrvAs, OW, HELEN, ARE You GONG ‘To LET HIM GOW THAT RoomP MAY 1 Go uP AND TAKE A LooKP PLEASE - The world of today seemed out for him and left only the wolf, its flerce eyes on his own. Time swung back, and this might have been @ source for forgotten ages—thy | wolf, the human hunter, the smolder- |ing campfire, the dark, jagged line of spruce against the sky. It was thus at the edge of the ice, Wolf and man—both children of the wild—had understood each other then; and they ‘could understand each other now. “Fenris, old boy,” the man whis- pered. “Can you find him for me, Fenris? He's out there somewhere —" the man motioned toward the \dark—"“and 1 want him. Can you take me to him?” | The wolf trembled all over, strug- gling to get his meaning. This waa no creature of subordinate intelll- gence: the great wolf of the North. He had, besides, the cunning of the wild hunters, the Intelligence that ts the trait of the whole canine breed. Nor 414 he depend on his sense of hearing alone. He watched his mas- ter’s face, and more than that, he was tuned and keyed to those mys- terious vibrations that carry a mos- sage from brain to brain #0 lean clearly and swift than words them- selves—the secret wireless of the wild. “He'n my tudfy, olf bey, and 1 want you to find him for me,” Ben ‘went on, more patiently. He searched his pockets, drawing out at last the copy of the letter Ezram had given him that morning, and, becaune the olf man had carried it for many days, It could still convey a monsage to the keen nose of the wolf. He put it to the animal's nostrils, then point~ ed away into the darkness, Fenris followed the motion with his eyes; and presehtly his long body stiffened. Ben watched him, fascinited, Then the wolf sniffed at the paper again and trotted away into the night. In one leap Ben was on hin fret, following him. The wolf turned once, saw that his master was at his heels, and sped on. They turned up a slight draw, toward the hillside. It became clear at once that Fenris was depending upon his marvelous sense of smell. His nose would lower to the ground, and sometimes he tacked back and forth, uncertatnly. At such times Ben watched him with SVERSTT! Con He STAIRWAY, bral Ses wey t FOUND. © WELL, HGee L AM, mes revs — WHAT DID You Pinep & THI CaKe® oF wor SOAP ON THS BATH Roo WINDOW Bice is cursed, half in awe, under his breath. He had always hated the gray rang- ers. They were the uncanny demons of the forest, Ben followed the running wolf as fast as ho could; and in his eagerness he had no opportunity for conjeo- ture as to what he would find at the end of the pursuit, Yet he did not believe for an instant this was a false trail, The wolf's deep, full-ringing bays were ever more urgent and ex- cited, filling the forest with their up- roar, But quite suddenly the silence closed down again, seemingly more deep and mysterious than ever, Ben's first sensation was one of icy that orept to the very marrow bated breath. But always he caught the scent again. Once more he paused, sniffing eagerly; then turned, whining. Just as clearly as if thoy had possessed a mutual language Ben understood: the animal had caught the clear scent at last, The wolf loped off, and his fierce bay rang thru the hushed forest. It was @ long-drawn, triumphant note; and the wild creatures paused in thelr mysterious, hushed occupa- tions to Hsten, It was also signifi- cant that it made certain deadly in- roads in the spirit of Ray Brent, sit- ting in his distant cabin, He marked the direction of the sound, and he i] THE OLD CROSSING WATTHMAN HAS GOT SO HE HATES THE SIGHT OF THE SECTION BOSS. of his bones. He knew Instantly that there was a meaning of dreadful por- tent in the abrupt cessation of the cries, He halted an instant, listen- ing, but at first could hear no more than the throb of his heart in his breast and the whisper of his own troubled breathing, But presently, at a distance of 100 yards, he diy- tingutshed the soft whining of the wolf. Fenris was no longer running! He had halted at the edge of a distant thicket. The cold sweat sprang out on Ben's forehead, and he broke into @ headlong run, ‘There was no later remembrance ‘ of traversing that last 100 yards, The hillside seemed to whip under his feet, He paused at last, just at the dark margin of an impenetrable thicket. The wolf whined discon- solately Just beyond the range of his vision. “Bzram!” he called, a curious throbbing quality in his voice. “Are you there, Ez? It's me—Ben.” But the thickets neither rustled nor spoke. The cracked old voice he had learned to love did not speak in relief, in that moment ef unutterable