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ZEN of
the Y. D.
7/ Novel of the Foothills
By ROBERT STEAD
Author of
-Tie Cow Puncher ” The
i„mcneadtrt"— “Neighbor*, etc.
- i—ighf bv ROBERT STEAD
CHAPTER XIII
—l6
Sitting on his veranda that evening
while the sun dropped low over the
mountains anti the sound of horses
munching contentedly came up from
the stables, Grant for the twentieth
time turned over in his mind the events
of a day that was to stand out as an
epochal one in his career. The meeting
with the little boy and the quick friend
ship and confidence which had been
formed between them; the mishap, and
the trip to the house by the river—
these were logical and easily followed.
But why, of ail the houses in the world,
should it have been Zen Transley’s
house? Why, of all the little boys In
the world, should this have been the
son cf his rival and the only girl he had
ever—the girl lie had loved most In all
his life? Surely events are ordered to
some purpose; surely everything is not
mere haphazard chance! The fatalism
of the trenches forbade any other con
clusion; and if this was so, why had he
been thrown into the orbit ** n
Transley? He had not sought .<=r; lie
had not dreamed of her once In all that
morning while her child was winding
innocent tendrils of affection about his
heart. And the boy had
gripped him! Ogflfp It be that In some
way he was a sthan incarnation of the
Zen of the Y.D., 'fHth all her clamorous
passion expressed now In childish love
and hero-worship? Had some intelli
gence above bis own guided him Into
this environment, deliberately inviting
him to defy conventions and blaze a
path of broader freedom for liimself,
and for her? These were questions he
wrestled with as the shadows crept
down the mountain slopes and along
the valley at his feet.
For neither Zen nor himself had
connived at the situation which had
made them, of all the people in the
■world, near neighbors In this silent
valley. Her surprise on meeting him
at the door had been ns genuine as
his. When she had made sure that the
boy was not seriously hurt she had
turned to him, and Instinctively he
had kftnvn that there are some things
which til the weight of passing years
can never crush entirely dead. He
loved to rehearse her words, her ges
tures, the quick play of sympathetic
emotions, os one by one he reviewed
them.
“Youl I am surprised—l had not
known—” She had become confused
In her greeting, and a color that she
would have given worlds to suppress
crept slowly through her cheeks.
“lain surprised, too—and delight
ed,' he had returned. “The little boy
came to me Jn the field, boasting of his
braces." TJrtn they had both laughed,
and she had asked him to come in and
tell about himself.
The living-room, ns he recalled It,
was marked by the simplicity appro
priate to the summer home, with Just
a dash of elegance in the furnishings
to suggest that simplicity was a mat
ter of choice and not of necessity.
After soothing Wilson’s sobs, which
bad broken out afresh in his mother’s
arms, she had turned him over to a
tnaid and drawn a chair convenient to
Grant’s.
‘You see, I am a fanner now,’’ he
apologetically regarding his
overalls.
changes have come! Eut I
'lon t understand; I thought you were
rich—very rich—and that you were
proi ting some kind of settlement
w kcme. Frank has spoken of It.”
“•\ i of which Is true. You see, I
r '~‘ : -on of whims. I choose to live
Joyously.”
riOW ” w ’ as that
," Kr ?’ es bad met and they had fallen
a momentary silence.
I ■ why are you farming?” she
bad exclaimed, brightly.
f r several reasons. But most of
' use I love the prairies and-the
• fe. It’s my whim, and I fol
low it."
are very wonderful,” she had
~ed. And then, with startling
- 1 '- ■'.ess. “Are you happy?”
- appy as I have any right to be.
'• * rhan I have been since child
□OO'V
od risen and walked to the
op.ece; then, with an apparent
c. V * Impulse, she had turned and
im. He had noted that her
jjT’ os rounder than In girlhood.
f mplexlon paler, but the sunlight
still danced In her hair, and her reck
less force had given way to a poise
that suggested Infinite resources of
character.
“Frank has done well, too,” she had
said.
“So I have heard. lam told that he
has done very well Indeed.”
“He has made money, and he Is busy
and excited over h'ls pursuit of sue-
be calls success. Fie hns
given ft his life. He thinks of noth
ing else—”
She had stopped suddenly, ns though
her tongue had trapped her Into say
ing more than she had Intended.
“Whnt do you think of my summer
home?” she had exclaimed, abruptly.
“Come out and admire the sweet pens,"
and with n gay little flourish she had
led lilm into the gnrden. “They tell
me Western flowers have a brililnnce
and a fragrance which the Enst, with
nil its advantages, cannot duplicate.
Ts that true?”
“I believe It Is. The East hns great
er profusion—more varieties—but the
individual qualities do not seem to be
so well developed.”
“I see you know something of East
ern flowers,” she had said, and he fan
cied he had caught a note of banter—
or was It inquiry?—in her voice.
Then, with another abrupt change of
subject, she had made him describe
His house on the hill. But he had said
nothing of the whim-room.
“I must go,” he had exclaimed at
length. “I left the horses tied in the
field.”
“So you must. I shall let Wilson
visit you frequently, if he Is tot a
trouble.”
Then she had chosen a couple of
blooms and pinned their, on his coat,
laughingly overriding his protest that
they consorted poorly with his cos
tume. And she had shaken hands and
said good-by in the manner of good
friends parting.
The more Grant thought of it the
more was he convinced that in her
•case, as in his own, the years had
failed to extinguish the spark kindled
In the foothills that night so long ago.
He reminded himself continually that
she was Transley’s wife, and even
while granting the Irrevocability of
that fact he was demanding to know
why Fate had created for them both
an atmosphere charged with unspoken
possibilities. He had turned her words
over again and again, reflecting upon
the abrupt angles her speech had
taken. In their few minutes’ conversa
tion three times she had had to make
a sudden tack of safer subjects. What
lmd she meant by that reference to
Eastern and Western flowers? Ills
answer reminded him how well he
knew. And the confession about her
husband, the worshiper of success—
“what he calls success” —how much
tragedy lay under those light words?
The valley was filled with shadow,
and the level rays of the setting sun
fell on the young man’s face and
splashed the hilltops with gold and
saffron as within his heart raged the
age-old battle. . . . But as yet be
felt none of Its wounds. lie was con
scious only of a wholly Irrational de
light.
As the next forenoon passed Grant
found himself glancing with increasing
frequency toward the end of the field
where the little boy might be expected
to appea.. But the day wore on with
out sign of his young friend, and the
furrows which he had turned so Joy
ously nt nine were dragging lendenly
nt eleven. He had not thought it pos
sible that a child could so quickly have
won a way to his affections. He fell
to wondering ns to the cause of the
boy's absence. Had Zen, after n night’s
reflection, decided that It was wiser
not to allow the acquaintance to de
velop? Had Transley, returning home,
placed his veto upon it? Or—and his
heart paused at this prospect—had the
foot been more seriously hurt than
they had supposed? Grnnt told him
self that he must go over that night
and make Inquiry. That would be
the neighborly thing to do. . . .
But early that afternoon his heart
was delighted by the sight of a little
figure skipping Joyously over the fur
rows toward him. He hnd his hat
crumpled in one hand, and his teddy
bear In the other, and his face wns
alive with excitement. He wns puffing
profusely when he pulled up beside the
plow, and Grant stopped the team
while he got his breath.
“My! My! What Is the hurry? I
see the foot Is all better.
“We got a pig!” the lad gasped,
when he could speak.
“A pig!”
“Yessir! A live one, too! He’s
awful big. A man brought him In a
wagon. That Is why I couldn’t come
this morning.”
Grant treated himself to a humble
reflection upon the wisdom of childish
preferments.
“What are you going to do with
him?”
“Ent him up, I guess. Daddy said
there was enough wasted about our
house to keep a pig, so we
Aren’t you going to take me up?”
“O? course. But first we must put
teddy in bis place.”
“I’m to go home at five o’clock,” the
boy said, wten he had got properly
settled.
The hours slipped ty all too qt'-Ick-
THE DANIELSVILLE MONITOR, DANIELSVILLE, GEORGIA,
ly, and If the lad’s presence did not
contribute to gwd plowing, It at least
made a cheerful plowman. It was
plain that Zen had sufficient confidence
In her farmer neighbor to trust her
boy In his care, and hts frequent ref
erences to his mother bad an Interest
for Grant which he could not have
analyzed or explained. During the aft
ernoon the merits of the pig were sung
and re-suag, and at last Wilson, after
kissing his friend on the cheek and
whispering, “I like you, Uncle Mun
on-the-HIU,” took his teddy bear un
der bis arm and plodded homeward.
The next morning be came again,
but mournfully and slow. There were
tear .tains on the little round cheeks.
“Why, son, whnt hns happened?"
said Grant, his abundant sympathies
instantly responding.
“Teddy's spoiled,” the child sobbed.
“I set hint—on the side of —the pig
pen, nnd he fell’d In, and the big pig
ct him—ate him—up. He didn’t 'znet
ly eat him up, either—Just kind of
chewed him, like."
“Well that certainly Is too bad.
But then, ycu're going to ent the pig
some day, so that will square It, won’t
It?”
“I guess It will," snld the boy,
brightening. “I never thought of that."
“liut we must have a teddy for
Prince. See, he is looking around,
waiting It. Grant folded his cont
into the shape of a dummy and set
it upon the hames, and nil went mer
rily again.
That afternoon, which was Satur
day, the boy came thoughtfully nnd
with an air of much importance. Delv
ing into a pocket he produced an en
velope, somewhat crumpled In transit.
It was addressed, “The Man-on-the-
Ilill."
Grant tore It open eagerly nnd rend
this note:
“Dear Mnn-on-the-HlIl: That Is
the name Wilson calls you, so perhaps
you will let me use It, too. Frank Is
to be home tomorrow, nnd will you
come and have dinner with us at six?
My fathe. nnd mother will he here,
and possibly one or two others. You
had n clash with my men-folk once,
but you will find them ready enough
to make allowance for, even If they
fall to understand, your point of view.
Do come. ZEN.
“P.S.—lt Just occurs to me that
your associates In your colonization
scheme may w r ant to elnlm your time
on Sunday. If any of (hern come out,
bring them along. Our table is an
extension one, and Its capacity has
never yet been exhausted.”
Although Grant’s decision was mnde
nt once lie took some time for reflec
tion before writing an acceptance. lie
was to enter Zen’s house on her !nvl-
“I Must Go,” H Had Exclaimed at
Length.
tnflon, but under the auspices, so to
speak, of husband and parents. That
was eminently proper. Zen was a
sensible girl. Then there was a ref
erence to that ancient squabble In the
hay meadow. It wns evidently her
plan to see the hatchet burled and
friendly relations established all
round. Eminently proper and sensible.
He turned the sheet over and wrote
on the back:
“Dear Zen: Delighted to come. May
have a couple of friends with me, one
of whom you have seen before. Pre
pare for an appetite long denied the
joys of home cooking. D. O.”
It was not until after the child hnd
gene home that Grant remembered he
hnd addressed Transley’s wife by her
Christian name. That was the way he
always thought of her, and it slipped
on to paper quite naturally. Well, It
couldn't be helped now.
Grant unhitched early and hurried
to his house and the telephone. In
a few minutes he had Linder on the
line.
“Hello, Linder? I want you to go to
a store for me and buy a teddy-bear.”
The chuckle at the other end of the
line irritated Grant. Linder had a
strange sense of humor.
"T mean It. A big teddy, with elec
trlc eyes, and a deep bass growl, If
they make ’em that way. The best
you can get. Fetch It out tomorrow
afternoon, and come decently dressed,
for once. Bring Murdoch along If you
can pry him loose."
Grant Ivtng up the receiver. “Stupid
chap. Linder, some ways," he mut
tered. “Wliy shouldn't I buy A teddy
bear If I want to?”
Sunday afternoon snw the arrival
of Linder nnd Murdoch, with the larg
est teddy the town afforded. “What
Is the big Idea now?” Linder demand
ed, ns he delivered It Into Grant’s
hands.
“It Is for a little boy I know who
hns been bereaved of Ids first teddy
by the activities of the family pig.
Y’ou will renew some pleasant ac
quaintanceships, Linder. You remem
ber Transley and his wife —Zen, of
the Y.D.?”
"You don’j rvy 1 Thanks for that tip
about dressing tip. I may explain,"
Linder continued, turning to Murdoch,
“there was a time when I might have
been an also-rnn In the race for Y.D.’s
daughter, only Transley beat me on
the getaway.”
“Y’ou 1" Grant exclaimed. Incred
ulously.
“You, too!" Linder returned, a
great light dawning.
Promptly nt six Linder drew his auto
mobile tip In front of the Transley
summer home with Grnnt nnd Mur
doch on board. Wilson had been
watching, and rushed down upon
them, but before he could clamber up
on Grnnt n great teddy-bear was
thrust Into his arms and sent him,
wild with delight, to his mother.
"Look, mother 1 Look whnt the
Mnn-on-the-Hill brought 1 Seel He
has fire In his eyes!’’
Transley nnd Y.D. met the guests
nt the gnte. “How do, Grnnt? Glad
to see you, old man," snld Transley,
shaking his hnnd cordlnlly. “The
wife hns had so many good words for
you I am almost jealous. Whnt ho,
Linder I By nil that’s wonderful I
Y’ou old prairie dog, why did you
never look me up? I was beginning
to think the Boohe hnd got you.”
Grnnt introduced Murdoch, and Y.D.
received them ns cordially ns had
Transley. “Glad to see you fellows
back," he exclaimed. “I al’us snld
(he Western men 'ud put a crimp In
the kaiser, spite o’ h —l an’ high
water!”
“One thing the wnr hns taught us,"
snld Grnnt, modestly, “Is that men are
pretty much alike, whether they
come from west or enst or north or
south. No race has a monopoly of
heroism.”
"Well, come on In,” Transley beck
oned, leading the way. “Dinner will
be ready sharp on time twenty min
utes late. Not being n married man,
Grnnt, you will not understand thnt
reckoning. You’ll have to excuse Mrs.
Transley a few minutes; she’s holding
down (he accelerator In the kitchen.
Come In ; I want you to meet Squlggs."
Squlggs proved to he a round man
with huge round tortoise-shell glasses
nnd round red face to nintc-h. He
shook hands with a manner that sug
gested th. t In doing so lie wns mak
ing rather a good fellow of himself.
“We must have a little lubrication,
for Y.D.’s sake,” said Transley, pro
ducing n bottle and glasses. “I sup
pose It was the dust on the plains
that gave these old cow punchers a
thirst which never enn he slaked.
These be evil days for the old timers.
Grant?"
“Not any, thanks.”
“No? Well, (here’s no accounting
for tastes. Squlggs?”
"I’m a lawyer," aahl Squlggs, “and
as booze Is now ultra vires I do my
best to keep It down,” and Mr.
Squlggs beamed genially upon his
pleasantry and the full glass In his
hand.
“I take a snort when 1 want It and I
don’t enre who knows It,” said Y.D.
“I al'us did, and I reckon I’ll keep on
to the finish. It didn’t snuff me out
In my youth and innocence, anyway.
Just the same, I’m admlttln’ It’s bad
medicine In unskillful hands. Here’s
ho!”
The glasses hnd Just been drained
when Mrs. Transley entered the room,
flushed but radiant from a strenuous
half hour In the kitchen.
“Well, here you are I” she exclaimed.
“Bo glnd you could come, Mr. Grant.
Why, Mr. Linder! Of all people—
This Is n pleasure. And Mr. ?”
“Mr. Murdoch," Transley supplied.
“My chief of staff; the man who
persists In keeping rne rich," Grant
elaborated.
“I mustn’t keep you waiting longer.
Dinner fs ready. Dad, you are to
carve.”
“Hanged If I will! I’m a guest here,
and I stand on iny rights,” Y.D. ex
ploded.
“Then you must do It, Frank.”
“I suppose so,” said Transley, “al
though all I get out of a meal when I
have to carve Is splashing nnd pro
fanity. You know, Squlggs, I’ve fig
ured it out that this practice of re
quiring the nominal head of the house
to carve has come down from the days
when there wasn’t usually enough to
go ’round, and the carver had to make
some fine decisions, and, perhaps,
maintain them by force. It has no
place under modern civilization.”
'TO BE CONTINUED.!
Just M
a Littlejh
SmiM |
4l
LITERAL YOUTH
A mnn was very vain about his sing
ing. Unlled on to give n song at a
party, he complied Immediately.
“Now, my lad,” he snld to a small
boy, when he had finished, “what have
you to remark about my singing?"
“Nothing,” sakl the bored youth.
“It Is not remarkable." —Chicago Daily
News.
A Little Lacking
A farmer was showing his old mare
to a friend.
"Yes," he said, “I’ve got to part
with the old girl. Whnt d'you think I
con sell her for?”
His friend looked nt the mare crit
ically.
“Well," he said nt last, “if she only
had a hump, you could sell her for a
camel.”
Her Order
Grocer (as lady customer leaves
store) —There goes a newly married
woman.
Male Customer How can you tell?
Grocer- She ordered a sack of flour,
a can of baking-soda nnd a box of
dyspepsia tablets. —The Progressive
Grocer.
He Knew What to Do
Student—This Is my first ease. The
child has been eating cnndle ends.
Doctor —Whnt hnvc you done?
Student—Recommended a change of
diet.
JUST THE THING
J-/ ■■■ '
Jackdaw- How fortunate 1 was In
drilling this diamond ring no more
electric light hills to pay!
Each Day
Hpenk a gentle, kindly word,
With a goodly smile,
To an animal or a bird—
It is worth your while!
Polite, Anyway
“Thank you for the presents, auntie.”
“Oh, they are nothing to thank tno
for.”
“That's what T thought, hut mother
told me to thank you all the same.”
A More Suitable Name
“Oli, dearie, I meant flits to tip a
cottage pudding, but It wouldn’t rise.”
“That’s all right, sweetest. Shall we
call It a flat pudding?”- London Tit
l'd ts.
Not an Heiress
She—My face Is rny fortune.
lie -Well, never mind that. Tha
richest people aren’t always the hap
piest.—The Progressive Grocer.
EXPLAINED HIS LOOKS
‘‘Why (Joes buying a now suit make
you look so bored?”
“Had to plunk down fifty bucks for
It.”
The Fire’s Secret
Kind Fire, gtnre you are talking so—
Hince you're so friendly-free,
I wish you'd tell me. If you know.
What Jenny thinks of me?
Minnows Only
“Hnve you had many proposals?”
••Oh, yes. but mt on* from a man
worth suinj; for breach of promise."