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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."