The evening world. Newspaper, February 16, 1914, Page 15

A CO, ‘.NOVEM NEXT INST POOOOOD PLETE fe AN WERE STRUGGLING. Oopyrighh, 1818, by ‘H, Hesbeta Prichard.) CHAPTER I. Sir Andrew’s Advice. ‘T bappencd that in the early autumn of I, James Quaritob, of Quebec, went down to Montreal, I was at the time muck engaged in an important business transaction, which, after long and com- Plicated negotiations, appeared to* be nearing « successful issue. A few days after my arriva! 1 I dined with Sir Andrew MoLerrick, p celebrated nerve specialist and lecturer at MoGill University; who had for many years my friend. On similar occasions I had usually remained for half an hour after. the guests had departed, so that when he turned from saying the last od-by, Sir Andrew found me choos! ing @ fresh cigar. aT sannot call to mind, James, that I invited you. to.belp.yourealt.to Abether smoke,” he said. laushed. a mention it, Andrew, I am ac med to your manners. All the Ho watohed me light up. “Make mogt of it, for it will be some time are the be @ great success, yet is it worth the sacrifice of your ex- it Bealth 7” Bees aie ae usual” ‘t~ le Andrew bent bis pro- eyebrows and brilliant dark me'and put me through a Tush, man, james! he Bi an examination into e peer and bad ue Course @ my de- Sie senna een eet tion, spent @f letter or telegram in the right! that’s ht!” com- @ir Andrew, “Nothing will u more good than to forget all mining reports and essays in tal moose-hunt. hat do of that fellow with the b yeu pave banging in your Ps ike them of th t—"but the it fa that my @uide, Noel fs Juid up with rheumation certainly not be fit to g me fust now. Indeed, I éeu of {will ever be much good m (Be but it sae if Tean recommend you 5 Pus F have. had the trou- traint joe) a pA agein Bir Andrew allowed his trating black eyes to rest upon he broke into his short, @an guarantees that you wil! not it mecessary to train November tal mm ber Joe?’ * “¥ea, do you know him?” “Curtously enough, I do, He with me as dish-washer when | with Tom Todd some ye Mains. Ho was a boy the “T know that, but I believe he w retained by the Britwells, who e Bim last year, and now at the minute old man Britwell bas that he is too busy to go camp this fall. But there may on ‘fe this ainieulty. at November Joe hai eome port of contract the ioe to wan was «go T understand entered !nto ith the Pre-~ 7" I repeated. help them in such thin the soo: big brought home to me, he would, He js @ most sitilled hot forget that the’ speolaity. ef a not forget tha Sherlock Holmes ts the everyday rou- Une of a woodsman. Observatiom and deduction are part and parcel of bts dally existence. He literally as . ‘The floor of the forest is mitted tn th very fortuna “In what way? “My dear J. ‘have “you never given any coni tion to the mark- edly different circumstancés ‘which surround the wide subject of erime and its detection, where the locality is shifted from @ populous or even settled country to the loneliness of some wild region? In the midst of a city, any crime of magnitude is very frequently dfycovered within a few hours of its committal.” “You mean that the detectives can get after the ity peraon while:the trail is fresh?” ‘es, but in’ the woods it is rwise, There Nature is the crim: 'o beat ally. She seems to herself with him-in many ways, Of- ten she delays the discov of hie ill- doing; she covers bia d with her leavi nd her snow; his track she washes away with her rain, and more than all she provides.him with a vast area of refuge, over which she sends appointed hours of dur- 6 cl ing which an Life in the wilderness ts beautiful and wweet, if you will, but it has ite som- bre places, and ited are often dificult fudeed to unveil.” “All things Lelio ba hg bAvipslg 4 any wi c tng that so many = '@, for ve ree om have been mea Novem! oe that is, practically Uliterate en. ‘Their erie. has a quality of terrible simplicity; they give minute be able details; they hold le to truth with a v4 ance, and this, T think, {9 ly: to the fact that ther minde are un- clouded by any atmdsphere of make- believe; they have never read any sensational novels; all their ex ences are at first-hand; they bring forward naked fects jammer results. - I bad listened to Sir Andrew with Interest, for I knew that his precise nnd accurate mind was not easily tn- finenced to the expression of # defin- ite opinion, ‘ “For some years,” he continued, “I have studied this subject, and there is nothing that I would personally like to do better than to have the opportunity of watching November Joe at work “I see he has interested you,” sald I, half emiling, “I confess be has, Leoked at from @ actentific atandpoint, I consider him the perfect product of his environ- ment. 1 repeat there are few thin I would enjoy more than to wa! November using his experience his supernormal senses in the une revelling of some crime ef the woods. 1 threw the stump of my cigar iate yon ba lea me,” I 1 ‘ou have persuad aid f Wi) toy to mene © ctart ‘Sy the -Aeite that t batlove. yeu eight ont rand ead up the % his page. And whee A crime. le com. be ‘oods, these fadte are with sledge- » 2B DEOLE GF EOBODDIODISODESOOSORSESSOSLESOSELSSREDOSOI DLT NOVEL EACH WEE IN THE EV OE #4 # A Sherlock Holmes o into touch with bim at Hatitng’e Beauce. letters when he feele inol! “Then I'll cable,’ office. might ‘Perhaps; but it the country and messengers are like- ly to be scarce.” “Then I'll go to Marding’s and ar- nar hat would cortalaly’ be the best host. “Remember me te Joe,” sald he. “7 like that young man. Geod-by and good tuck.” CHAPTER U. November Joe. LONG the berders of Beauce and Maine, between the Untted States and Canada, llee a land of epruce forest ana ef hardwood ridges. felfiied the duties, man: which bearded eld 1: @ delight in laying upon the BODO underbrush and the trees, he never once halted or even wavered, but paseed onward with neither check nor ,,, pause, Meanwhile, I blundered in bis tracks until at last, when we came out on the bask of @ at and awiftly flowing river,-1 was fairly done, an bat, had the journey continued muck longer, | must bave been forced to give in. November threw down his ie and to me to remain beside it, while fe walked off downstream, only to reappear with a canoe. We were soon aboard her. if the remalader of our journey I am sorry to say I can recall very little, The rustle of the wa an it hissed against our stem and the wind ] soon lulled reat and Hi o Amiel, and it lies about feo both. Old fire scars tn in ty yarea from the water. From the canoe ‘we were in full sight of the econe of the tragedy. A omall shelter of boughs stood be- He neath tbe spreading branches of a Here little farms etand on the edge [s! of the big timber, and far beyond them, in the depths ef the woodlands, He lumber camps and the wide flung paths of trappers and pelt hunters. I left the cars at Silent Water and rode off at once to Harding’s, the house of the Beauce farmer, where I meant to put up for the night. Mre. Harding received me genlaDy and placed an excellent supper before me. ‘While 1 was eating it a squall blew up with the fall of wee giad enough to find myself in ter. *Sutsias the wind was among the pines which enclosed the farmhouse, when, inside, the bell the telephone, which connected of the prod us» with @ lasy come with a curious gentioness tha’ was one of his characteristics, out which left me in no doubt as to its rkness, and I UP among the . He wi Nearly the duct ut the master of his en- , Mr, Quaritch, many’s time I thinking of the bo 4 we had with old Tom way up on t Roustik.” z ‘were good days, Joe, weren't jure, they were: re, hope we shall have some more (| ther.” sth ou want, I'm glad sere, Mr. Quaritch, "zneres 2 ways moves out , about dark.” ‘Then humor itt e spark 60. omise net to ‘Joe made me pr ,, * te after any ete ae noeded. ‘Of course, I'll carry the “It’s quite a way te bis dnesn't care he’s a solitary man. low the tote-road you were on day fifteen miles, turn west at tl deserted lumber camp, cross Charie; Brook; Joe lives about two acres the far bank.” She lifted the ail ee I say you'll go?" “B means.’ A tow seconds later I was at the phone taking my instructions. It a peared that the speaker was the Chiet of Police in Quebec, who was, of course, well known to me I will let you have his own words. “Very good iigcd beg Besar my. named ber-jack who found the ea yy al Much obliged Yes, dst 'sooner Re hears about it" the bet . Good night.” fest and far. ter. pal oNreu won't have much time te loge, then, I'll put you up & bite to eat I Rastily Jobe there. and what bad he to say to ¢ ‘Bald he wouldn't leave the woods for a thousand.” “well?” “They offered him the thousand.” “With what result?’ his shack, Came in here past and told my husband tree in the woods for the rest of hi Fifth avenue, The jumber- and the des @ lot of bim. die Law i yoda iy in e bear 7 the at jo—and go off. There’ be & moon ‘woes ‘the storm blows itself out, By the help of the lantern I saddled Leura and stumbled ay into the ‘and the part yy eyes as be looked Bue wel have @ cup o° v the way, I ought to m bX his birch in the month of November had given him bie neme),/as 1 ny, orenee Joe's weakness for tea had in old days been oe ul I had often ex my irony-and banter. The weakn evidently still alive. I smi bape it wae a relief to find polat t alarmingly er od hoped to be @ hunt with Ll }0} ve a yu, November,” sald L.. “Indeed, that ia what I came for, and there's noth- ing I'd like better than to try for your red-deer buck to-night, but while I was at Harding's there was a Fing-up. on the phone and the Provin- cial Police through @ message that a man Police He told me Brn mean fifty dollars. Hinkinged too = , Bares Joe “I'd sooner hunt a deer in & Memeny day. Makes a fellow feel less bat ike when he comes up with him, ‘Well, Mr. Quaritch, I must be getting u'll be prstes anot! ‘aul di and must come into the it. I've three months to from ali I hear of you, hs finding i hi i Py Ba a if 38 i CHAPTER Ill. [The [Crime at Big Tree Portage. HAVE sometimes wondered whether he was not irked at the prospect of my Droftered compantonship, and whether he did not at first intend to shake me off by obvi- ous and primitive methods. Ho bes in later days assured me ed which leaves me still half-doubttul, However these things may be, it is Y at the base of the neck. large Gr; ¢.e ground all about was strewn with tins and debris, On a bare space in front of the shelter, be- to side the charred logs of a camp fire, | @ patch of biue caught my eye. This, ee may sient gray accustomed to the light, resol itself into the shape of a bugé man, He lay upon his fa a the ind fluttered the blue blouse which he was wearing. It came upon ine with a shook that I was looking at the: body of Henry Lyon, the mur- dered man. Nov r, standing up in the cande,® Wood picture LA teed buekansa hirt and jeaua, survey: 9 acene in me, Mies down oe me the ddled uj mM, ing at e Bank, Afton bit he put in and ‘waded ashor In obedience to a sign I stayed in the canoe, from which I watched the movements of my compan! stood for a minute staring toward the ers finally he called to me to come re. ei pale, confronting the sky. was easy to see how the man had ied, for the bullet had a hole @ ground beside him was torn up as if by some small sharp inatruments. The idea occurred to me that I would try my hand at detection. went into the shelter. There I found a blanket, two freshly fia: bear- aking, and a pack, which I lay open. 1 came out in and carefully ex- amined the und in all directions. Suddenly looking up, I saw Novem- ber Joe watching me with a kind of grim and covert amusement. “What are you looking for?” eatd “The tracks of the murderer.” “You won't find ti i iy?" “He didn’t make nene.” Ll pointed out the spot where the ground was torn. . “The lumberman that found him— spiked boots,” said November, “How do you know he was not the murderer?” “He didn't get here till Lyon had been dead for hours. Compare his tracks with Lyon's © °¢ much fresher, No, Mr. Sport, that cock won't fight.” “Then, you seem to know so much, tell me what you do know.” “I know that Lyon reached here in the afternoon of the day before yea- t He'd been visiting his traps He hadn't been here minutes and was light- ing hie pipe in the shelter there when he hears & voice ball him. He comes out and sees a man in & cance ol into the bank. That man shot him one and cleared off—without leaving @ trace,” “How can you be sure ef all thie?” 1 asked, for not one of these things had ocourred to my ‘mind. “Because I found @ pipe of tobacco not rightly lit, but just charred on top, bealde Lyon's body, and a newly used toh in this shack, The man that killed him come downstream and rised him.” ou “How ox you tell he came down- atream “Hecause, if he'd come upstream quid. ‘a’ seen him from the ghack,” said November with admir- able patience. upstream. more'n a fe a hoot bi Fiver’s too wide to ac mark and, anyway, there's the of ha suas verte in thi benk. No, this ip the work of a right emart woodeman, and he's Bot es. Mé one cine as to jut I'm not through with mis: Pe Fuch men as @ needs oat cdi 5 Let's boll the kettle.” ‘We laid the dead man inside ¢ aback, and then, coming out once more into the sunlight, sat down side a fire which we built among stones on the bank of the river, November: made tea in true woods fashion, drawing all the strength and bitterness from the leaves by boiling them, * ¢ © I was wondering what he would do next, for it appeared that our chance of catching the murderer was infinitesimal, aince he had left ne clue save the mark on the bank where his canoe had rested among the reeds while he fired his deadly bullet. J put my thoughts into words. “You're right,” said November. “When a chap who's used to the woods life takes to crime he's harder to lay hands on than a lynx in der patch.” “There ie one thing which I don't understand,” said I, “Why did not the murderer #iak Lyon's body in the ver It would have been well bid- den The young woodsman pointed to the river, which foamed in low rapide about dark heade of rock. “He couldn't trust her; the current's sharp and would put the dead man hore as like as not,” be replied. “And if he'd landed to carry it down Ne cance he'd have left tracks. hie I he's done bis work to rights from of view.” of the argument and “hea mora the: there's few peo- vibe went om "travel up an ows river, Lyon migitt ‘a’ till he was @ skeleton but of that lumberjack hap- w the force larpur and the sett nt of Bt, fo; I interest and “You eay the shot was fred from the Mos), t e COOEDHA CHOSHODOOTHIDOHOIODHLTOOHOOOOHOHOOHHOOVHODE ENING WORLD “Then which wi murderer has fled “and, any- miles away ow yet. I must find out eo: thing him first, But, louk mister, there's one fac ir kn that Lyo@ would camp here. The chances agal teers Rete eames bd that killed him followed him sketh Prichard t by accident. The ‘2! agree: od him a bit, And, anyway, it's my hi hance.’ rest, From midday on through the whole of the afternoon we travelled. Squirrels chattered h io the spruces, our path with ita white fi and dipping as it was in the sun-specked of the woods, Lyon's trail was, fortunately, easy low, and it was only where, at is, paths from the noi or south broke into the main logging- road that November had reason to pause, But one by one we ce, these by, until at last the tracks we were following shot away among th trees, and after a mile of fall and moss debouched into a little clearing beside a backwater grown round with hi yellow grass a covered over the larger part of eurface with Niy-pads. The trail, after leading along the margin of this water, struck beck to @ higher reach of the same river that ran by Big Tree Portage, and then we were at once on the site of the First, }PO of balsam branches that had evi. dently been placed under the shelter of the same tent cover. November, then, was right; Lyon had camped with some one on the night before he died. I called out to Bim. Hie tlence and an attitude ae if tached from events fell him like a cloak, and with almos' uncanny swiftness he was making his examination or th imp. IT entirely believe that he was ui conacious of my presence, so concen- trated was he on his work as I fol- lowed him from spot to spot with an citement that no form of big game shooting has ever given bey ; Now, man was the SYaaneirees @ man more nm any beast. But I was destined to disappointment, for, as far as I could #60, Joe discovered neither clue gor anything unusual, ‘To begin with he took up and sifted through the layers of balsam bou hich had posed We walked back to Big age, and from there ran down Ii cance to Bt. Amiel, arri te! the lowing evening. About balf a mile short of the settlement November landed and set up our camp. td I had never be- Gr T found it your guide it. Al I will not make any scribe by what roundal t talk November learned all the news § the of desolate little Ht. Amiel and of sur-ounding countryside. known exactly what he wanted, I Id ne’ dreamed neoking infor lor ed the desultory uninterested listener to perfection. The Provincial Police had evidently found meann to close th mouth of the lumberjack time, at least, death had ye native place. Little by little it came out that only five men were absent from the settle- Two of these, Fits and Baxter gone Up-river to visit bis ing on the previous Friday. men hed all been away three weeks or more, and all had started iq canoes, except Lyon, who, having sold his, ‘went on by imperceptible degrees, the talk slid round to the subject of Lyon's wi They had marriod four years and had oRa. had been the belle of St. Amiel, there bad been for ber hand. both Miller ana her suitors, and had never been Fits Gurd the former good Y the marriage. The younger Gurd was masts of atanding in greet profusion, Nearer at hand a number of stumps showed where the campers had chopped the wood for their fire. After looking closely at these stumps, November wont awiftly back od the camp and spent t! roinut back to tl ted Ng one charred stick after }, t the time I could not why he did this, but when ec I understood it the reason was as simple and obvious as was that of his every action when once it was e: lore men leave a camp they seem i te throw euch trifies as they do require er wish to carry on with them in the fire, which is piring, for a axiom of the true cam: in the woods ip never to leave hie fire alight behind him, in case of a chance ember atart- ing a forest conflagration, In this case November had taken off nearly every bit of wood before I heard him utter @ smothered ex- remeron as he held up @ piece of atlol I took it into my own hands and looked it over. It was charred, but T saw that one end had been split and other end sbarpened. wortd ta it?” I asked, "What in the r . “Just evidence,” I was glad he had at last found something to go upon, for, so far, the camp had appeared to produce par- simontously little that was sugges- » Nevertheless, I did not see how it of spruce, crudely fash- foned and split as it was, would lead us very fi November apent another few mt utes in looking everything over a sec- ond time, then he took up his axe and split a couple of logs and lit the fire, Over it he hung his kettle and boiled up the lea morning brew with a liberal freshly added. “Well,” I said, as he touched the end of a burning ember to his pipe, “has this camp helped you?” '‘Some,” said Noventber, “And you?’ He put the queagion quite seriously, though I suspect not without some inward trony. can gee that two men slept under one tent cover, that they cut the wood for their fire in that marsh we visited, and that th fe perhaps tw “One was here for three days, the g ] Next Week’s Complete Nov other one night,” corrected November. November pointed to the ground at the far aide of the fire, “To begin with, numb comp Pitched over t \@ " id he camped. the first night with hin back to it. And in the new camp ‘one bed o' boughs In fresher than the other.” ‘The thing seem: absurdly ob- viene that I wae nm 4. suppose there tions I Rave 't noticed, 5 “There might be some you haven't tioned,” answered warily. are hy an’ ene killed Lyow to > Indleae & wild fellow, and only his brothers influence kept him straight. So much we heard before November wrapped up our purchases and we took our leave. No sooner were we away than I put By ore question: “What do you think of it?” Joe shrugged his shoulders, “Do you know any of these mea?” “All of them. “How about my arm. A man ‘was approaching through the dusk. As be passed my companion hailed im. “Hullo, “Mary one—nothing but red deer.” “Good-night.” ‘So long. “That settles it,” said November, “If he speaks the truth, as I believe he does, it wusn’t either of the Gurds shot Lyon.” y nott” idn't you hear him say they hadn't seen any moose? And I told you that the man that shot Lyon bad killed a moose quite recent, That leaves just Miller and Hi rent Mill Miller's above six foot, and = Cg tg) Sdn wasn't as vee y six inches. Another reason, You heard the way how Mil ler and Lyon wasn't Had T.not ong trees, November Joe's attention. wa i hago 4 ory 7 he “comin me wi lantern. you mte that dark corner.” J I did 20, while 3 i i i terms; yet the mau who shot Lyon } camped witb him—siep’ beside him— ‘a talked to him. That weren't His clear reasoning rang true. “Highameon lives bove Lyor t a8 good as a confession. No, he thiaks he's done hia work to rights and nothing to fear. 1! back home now. T' not coming und going between these uy river places and’ St, Amiel, and he might easy be there and no one hnow it yet down to the settlement. We'll fo up to-night and make rat we'll Kot & cup o' toa.’ The night had become both wild and blustering before w out Highamson's hut, and all along the forest paths which led to it the sleet no more, and I bit of candle I had fixed up @ candlestick, my Bible for guidance. words I lit on were: them with a rod of the gun clear enough, out the light, aad I think I dreamed. (To Be Continued.) THE SKY MAN By Henry Kitchell Webster WILL BEGIN IN NEXT Monday's Byoning World