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Z.EN of the Y. D.
A fio-Oel of ihe Foothills
CHAPTER Xlll—Continued.
—l7
The meal passed pleasantly and
without incident, and before they real
ized how the time tad flown Linder
was protesting that he must be on his
way. At the gate Trausley put a band
on Grant's shoulder.
“I’m prepared to admit,” he said,
“that there’s a whole lot in this old
world that needs correcting, but I!m
not sure that it can be corrected,
l'ou have a right to try out your ex
periments, but take a tip and keep a
comfortable cache against the day
when you'll want to settle down and
take things as they are. It is true and
always has been true that a man who
is worth his salt, when he wants a
thing, takes it—or goes down in the
attempt. The loser may squeal, but
that seems to be the path of progress.
You can’t beat It.”
“Well, we’ll see,” said Grant, laugh
ing. “Sometimes two men, each worth
his salt, collide.”
“As in the meadow of the South
Y.D.,” said Transley, with a smile.
"You remember that, Y.D. —when our
friend here upset the haying opera
tions?” _
“Sure, I remember, but I’m not hold
in’ It agin him now. A dead horse Is
a dead horse, an’ I don’t go sniffin' it.”
“Perhaps I ought to say, though,”
Grant returned, “that I really do not
know how the iron pegs got into that
meadow.”
“And I don’t know how your hay
stacks got afire, but I can guess. Re
member Drazk? A little locoed, an'
just the crirtur to pull off a fool stunt
like that. When the fire swept up the
valley, instead of down, he made his
get-away and has never been seen
since. I reckon likely there was
someone in Landson's gang capable o’
drivin’ pegs without consultin’ the
boss.”
The little group were standing In
the shadow and Grant had no oppor
tunity to notice the sudden blanching
of Zen’s face at the mention of Drazk.
Grant shook hands cordially with
Y.D. and his wife, with Squlggs and
Mrs. Squiggs, with Transley nnd Mrs.
Transley. Any Inclination he may
have felt to linger over Zen's hand
was checked by her quick withdrawal
of it, and there was something In her
manner quite beyond his understand
ing. He could have sworn that the
self-possessed Zen Transley was ac
tually trembling.
CHAPTER XIV
The next day Wilson paid his usual
visit to the field where Grant was
plowing, and again was he the bearer
of a message. With much difficulty he
managed to extricate the envelope
from a pocket.
“Dear Mr. Grant,” It read, ‘1 am so
excited over a remark dropped last
night I must see you again as soon as
possible. Can you drop In tonight, say
at eight. Yours. ZEN."
Grant read the message a second
time, wondering what remark could
have occasioned It. For a moment he
wondered if she had created a pretext
upon which to bring him to the house
by the river, and then instantly dis
missed that thought as unworthy of
him. At any rate It was evident that
his addressing her by her Christian
name had given no offense. This time
she had not colled him "The Man-on
t'ne-Hill,” and there was no suggestion
of playfulness in the note. Then the
signature, "Yours, Zen”; that might
mean everything, or it might mean
nothing. Either It was purely formal
or it Implied a very great deal Indeed.
Grant reflected that It could hardly be
Interpreted anywhere between those
two extremes, and was It reasonable
to suppose that Zen would use it In
an entirely formal sense? If it had
been "yours truly,” or “yours sincere
ly,” or any such stereotyped conclu
sion, It would not have called for a
second thought, but the simple word
“yours"—
“If only she were,’* thought Grant,
and felt the color creeping to his face
at the thought. It was the first time
he had dared that much. He had not
botliereo to wonder much where or I
how thi affair must end. Through all
the years that had passed. Zen had
been to him a sweet, evasive memory
to be dreamed over and Idealized, a
wild, daring. irresponsible incarnation
of the spirit of the hills.
He wrote on the back of the note,
“Look for me at eight," and then, ob
serving that the boy had not brought
Teddy along, he inquired solicitously
for the health of the little pet.
"He’s all right, but mother wouldn’t
let me bring him. Said I might lose
him.' The tone in which the last
words were spoken Implied Just how
impossible such a thing was. Lose Ted- j
dy; No one but a mother could think
of such an absurdity.
“But I got a knife!” Wilson ex
claimed, his mind darting to a happier
subject. "Daddy gave it to me. Will
By ROBERT STEAD
Author of “Tty Cetm Tanctyr"—“ Tty
Hom a jl,a4mrj~“fi,ightn>T4.~ >M.
CorW hr BO BEST BTJUD
you sharpen it? It is as dull as a
Pig.”
Grant was to learn during the day
that all the boy’s flgures*of speech
were now hung in the family pig. The
knife was as dull as a pig; the plow
was as rough as a pig; the horses,
when they capered at a corner, were
as wild as a pig; even Grant himself,
while he held the little chap firmly on
his knee, received the doubtful com
pliment of being as strong as a pig.
He went through the form of sharpen
ing the knife on the leather lines of the
harness, and was pleased to discover
that \\ Uson, with childish dexterity
of Imagination, now pronounced It as
sharp as a pig.
The boy did not return to the field
in the afternoon, and Grant spent the
time in a strange admixture of happi
ness over the pleasant companionship
he had found in this little son of the
prairies and anticipation of his meet
ing with Zen that night.
Grant prepared his supper of bacon
and eggs and fried potatoes, bread and
jam and black tea, and ate it from the
kitchen table. Supper ended, he no
ticed he had Just time to wulk to
Transley’s house before eight o’clock.
Zen received him at the door; the
maid had gone to a neighbor’s, she
said, and Wilson was in bed. She
lighted the dry wood in the fireplace.
“I have been so anxious to see you
—again,” she said, drawing a chair
not far from him. "A chance remark
of yours last night brought to memory
many things—things I have been try
ing to forget.” Then, abruptly, “Did
you ever kill a man?”
“You know I was In the war," he
returned, evading her question.
“Yes, and you do not care to dwell
on that phase of It. I should not have
asked you, but you will be the better
able to understand. For years I have
lived under the cloud of having killed
a man.”
“You I”
“Yes. The day of the fire —you re
member?"
Grant had started from his chair.
"I can't believe It 1” he exclaimed.
“There must have been Justification!"
“You had Justification at the front,
but it doesn’t make the memory pleas
ant I had Justification, but It has
haunted me night and day. For all
these years I have been carrying in my
heart a secret until It seems to have
grown so big I must tell someone, or
burst. And then, last night, his name
was mentioned, which brought it all
back to me’ as though it had been yes
terday. Time doesn’t seem to cure
some things, ever, does It? And after
I had gone to bed, and was thinking It
all over, I suddenly knew there was
one man I could tell. That Is why I
sent that note. . . . You weren’t an
gry?”
"Angry! Dear—” He checked his
lips on forbidden words.
"Who?” be managed to say.
“Drazk.”
“Drazk I”
“Yes. I had killed him that day of
the fire. It Is rather an unpleasant
story, and you will excuse me repeat
ing the details, I know. He attacked
me—we were both on horseback. In
the river—l suppose he was crazed
with his wild deed, and less responsi
ble than usual. He dragged me from
my horse and I fought with him In
the water, but he was much too strong.
I had concluded that to drown my
self, and perhaps him, was the only
way out, when I saw a leather thong
floating in the water from the saddle.
By a ruse I managed to flip It around
his neck, and the next moment he was
at ray mercy. I had no mercy then. I
pulled It tight, tight—pulled till I saw
his face blacken and his eyes stand
out. He went down, but still I pulled.
And then, after a little, I found my
self on shore
"I suppose It was the excitement of
the fire that carried me on through
the day, but at night—you remember?
—there came a reaction, and I couldnjj
keep awake I suddenly seemed to
feel that I was safe and I could
sleep."
Grant had resumed his seat. He
was deeply moved by this strange con
fidence; he bent his eyes Intently upon
her face, now shining in the ruddy
light from the fireplace. Her frank
reference to the event that night
seemed to create anew bond between
them; he knew now. If ever he had
doubted It. that Zen Transley had
treasured that incident in her heart
even as be had treasured it.
"I was so embarrassed after the —
the accident, you know," she contin
ued “I knew you must know I had
been in the water. For days and weeks
I expected every hour to hear of the
finding of the body. I expected to hear
the remark dropped casually by every
new visitor at the ranch. ‘Drazk's body
THE DANIELSVILLE MONITOR. DANIELSVILLE. GEORGIA.
was found today In the river. The
Mounted Police are investigating.’ But
time went on and nothing was heard
of It. It would almost have been a re
i lief to me if it had been discovered. If
I had reported the affair at once, as I
j should have done, a ’ would have been
different, but having kept my secret
for a little I found it impossible to con
fess later. It was the first time I ever
felt my self-reliance severely shaken.
“Welt, now you know,” she said*
with an embarrassed little laugh.
“You see, I have put my life In your
hands."
“Your husband knows?"
“ijo. That made it harder. I never
told Frank.’’
She arose and walked to the fire
place, pretending to stir the logs.
When she had seated herself again she
continued.
“It has not been easy for me to tell
all things to Frank. Don’t misunder
stand me; he has been a model hus
band, according to my standards."
“Accord.ng to your standards?” *
“According to my standards —when
I married him.”
She paused, and Grant sat In silence,
watching the glow of the firelight upon
her cheek.
“Your standards have changed?”
said Grant, taking up the thread when
she had sat down again.
“They have. They have changed
more than Frank's, which makes me
feel rather at fault in the matter.
How could he know that I would
change my ideal of what a husband
should be?”
"Why shouldn't he know? That Is
the course of development- Without
changing ideals ther would be stag
nation.”
“Perhaps," she returned, and he
thought Le caught a note of weariness
In her voice. “But I don’t blame
Frank —now. I rather blame him
then. He swept rad off my feet;
stampeded me. My parents helped
him, and I was only half disposed to
resist. You see, I had this trouble
on my mind, and for the first time in
my life I felt the need of protection.
Besides, 1 took a matter-of-fnet view
of marriage. I thought that sentiment —
love, If you like—was a thing of books,
an Invention of poets and fiction
writers. Practical people would be
practical in their marriages, as In
their othe. undertakings.
“Frank has been all I expected of
him," she repeated, as though anxious
to do her husband Justice. “He has
made money. He spends It generously.
If I live here modestly, with hut one
maid, It Is because of a preference
which I have developed for simplicity.
I might have a dozen If I asked It, nnd
I think Frank Is somewhat surprised,
and. It may be, disappointed, that 1
don't ask It. Although not a man for
display himself, he likes to see me
make display. It’s a strange thing,
Isn't It, that a husband should wish his
wife to be admired by other men?”
“Some are successful In that,” Grant
remarked.
“I have not sought any man's ad
miration,” she went on, with her aston
ishing frankness. “I am too Independ
ent for that What do I care for their
admiration? But every woman wants
love.”
Grant had changed his position, and
sat with his elbows upon his knees,
his chin resting upon Ills hands. “You
bnorr, Zen.” he said, using her Chris
tian name deliberately, “the picture I
drew that day by the river? That
Is the picture I have carried In my
mind ever since—shall carry to the
end. Perhaps It lins led me to be im
prudent—
" Has brought me here tonight, for
example.”
“You had my Invitation.”
“True. But why develop another
situaM/m which, as you say, has no
way out?”
"Do you want me to goV
“No, Zen. no! I want to stay—
with you—always! Eut society must
respect its own conventions.”
She arose and stood by hi* chair,
letting her hand fall beside his cheek.
“You silly boy I” she said. “You
didn’t organize society, nor subscribe
to Its conventions. Still, I suppose
there must be a code of some kind,
and we shall respect It. You had your
chance, Denny, and you passed It up.”
“Had my chance?”
"Yes. 1 refused you in words, 1
know, but actions sprad louder—"
“But when you told me you were
engaged what could I honorably do?"
"More —very much more—than you
can do now. You could have shown
me my mistake. How much better to
have learned it then, from you. than
later, by ray own experience! You
could have swept me off my feet. Just
as Frank did. You did nothing. If I
had sought evidence to prove how Un
practical you are, as compared with
my super-practical husband, I would
have found it In the way you handled. !
or rather failed to handle, that situa
tion.” j
“What would your super-practical
husband do now if he were in my po
sition?” he said, drawing her hands
into bis.
“I don't know."
“l’ou do! He says that ahy man
worth his salt takes what lie
in tilts world. Am I worth my salt?”
“There are different standards of
value. . . . Goodness! how late It
is! You must go now, and don't come
back before, let us say, Wednesday.”
CHAPTER XV
Whatever may have been Grant's
philosophy about the unwisdom of
creating a situation which had no way
out, he found himself looking forward
Impatiently to Wednesday evening.
An hour or two at Zen’s fireside pro
vided the social atmosphere which his
bachelor life lacked, and as Transley
seemed unappreciative of his domestic
privileges, remaining in town unless
his business brought him out to the
summer home, it seemed only a Just
arrangement that they should be
shared by one who valued them at
their worth.
The Wednesday evening conversa
tion developed further the understand
ing that was gradually evolving be
tween them, but it afforded no solu
tion of the problem which confronted
them. Zen made no secret of the
error she had made In the selection
of her hushnnd, but had no sugges
tions to offer as to what should be
done about It. She seemed quite sat
isfied to enjoy Grant's conversation
and company, and let it go at that—■
an impossible situation, as the young
man assured himself. She dismissed
him again at a quite respectable hour
with some reference lo Suturday eve
ning, which Grant interpreted as an
invitation to call again at that time.
When he entered Saturday night It
was evident that she had been expect
ing him.
She seated herself beside hln
on a dlvanette and the joy of her near
ness fired Grant with a very happy
intoxication.
Grant looked Into her eyes, now
close and responsive, and found within
their depths something which sent him
to his feet.
"Zen!” he exclaimed. "The mystery
of life Is too much for me. Surely
there must be an answer somewhere!
Surely the puzzle has a system to It—
a key which may some day be found I
Or can It be Just chaos—just blind,
driveling, senseless chaos?
“I suppose we disobeyed the law,
back In those old days. We heard It
clearly enough, and we disobeyed. I
allowed myself to be guided by mo
tives which v ere not the highest; you
seemed to lack the enterprise which
would have won you Its own reward.
And those who violate the law must
suffer for It. I have suffered.’’
“I have sometimes wondered,” he
said, “why there is no second chance;
why one cannot wipe the slate clear
of everything that has been nnd start
anew. What a world this might be?”
“Would It be any better? Or would
we go on making our mistakes over
again? That seems to be the only
way we learn.”
"But a second chance; the i-ea
seems so fair, so plausible.
“For you there Is a second chance,’’
she reminded him. “Yfu must have
thought of that.”
“No —no second chance."
She drew herself up slightly and
away from him. ”1 have been very
frank with you. Dennison,” she said.
“Suppose you try being frank with
me ?*’
"Ail right,” he said, “I wttl be frank.
Fate has brought within my orbit a
second chance, or what would have
been a second chance had my heart
not been so full of you. She was a
girl well worth thinking about. When
an employee Introduces herself to you
with a declaration of Independence
you may know that you have met with
someone out of the ordinary.”
"And you—thought about her?”
"I did. I was cick of the cringing
and fnwning of which my wealth made
me the object; I loathed the deference
paid me, because I knew It was paid,
not to me, but to my money—l was
homesick to hear someone tell me to
go to h —L. I wanted to brush up
against that spirit which snys It Is as
good os anybody else —against the
manliness which stands Its ground and
hits back. I found that spirit In liiyl-
Us Bruce.”
(TO BE CONTINUED.)
Plow for Sugar Plantations
A ninminoth plow that turns a fur
row ten feet wide is said to be the
latest Implement for use on sugar plan
tations. Gangs of blades that have a
circular motion both turn and pulver
ize the soil at the some time. The
plow Is hauled by a 120-horsepower
engine, with caterpillar tractor. Un
der favorable conditions the plow will
turn over about 25 acres a day.
Woman Causes Sensation
A woman in London created a sen
sation fn the ballroom of a hotel by
appearing with hair that glowed with
phosphoric iridescence when the lights
were dimmed.
Probably a sweet disposition has Its
own way as often as a mulelsh one.
WteOADflß
BUILDING
eS*-C__
HIGHWAY BUILDERS
OF ANCIENT TIMES
Improving the highways is not a
new idea. Highway engineering dates
hack to the earliest days of history,
when it first became necessary to in
sure the transportation of supplies lor
tribal armies.
Julius Caesar was among the fore
most highway builders. Many other
noted Homans Interested themselves
in this work. The Appian Way, a
long, straight boulevard leading to an
cient Home, is among the examples of
early highway construction. So firmly
was this roadbed laid a thousand years
ago that it is still one of Italy’s finest
avenues.
A late example of fine road building
is the Boulevard ties Anglais, which
skirts the Mediterranean at Nice,
France. It is said to have been con
structed by British soldiers, prisoners
under Napoleon Bonaparte. A wide,
smooth avenue which is underlaid with
a deep stone foundation, it is appar
ently unaffected by time or weather
conditions, has endured for a hundred
years and hit's fair to last many years
more.
A considerable impetus was given
to good-road building by John 1.. Mc-
Adam of Scotland. He utilized crushed
stone top dressing on a convex road
bed. It is named macadam, for Its ln
■ ventor, but with a slight difference in
the spelPng of the name.
Macadam roatl surface was quickly
adopted in America, and proved an
improvement over dirt roads. It did
not easily acquire- ruts, anti was par
ticularly unaffected by rain. On the
| east coast, where clam shells were
i plentiful, they were used by many mu
nicipalities for macadamizatlon.. The
; shells when finely ground under the
! weight of traffic, proved efficient as top
dressing, though hard on rubber tires
while wearing in.
Then came the automobile, requir
ing, for utmost comfort, smoother
road surface tlmn had previously been
necessary. Bumps that n slow-moving
vehicle negotiated with comfort, were
disturbing to occupants of motorcars,
traveling at speed* of from 20 to 40
miles per hour.
Highway engineers turned to tarred
surface, asphalt and concrete for a so
lution of the problem, and found It.
The materials which made such satis
factory sidewalks were ns useful for
road paving. Cobblestones are disap
pearing. replaced by smooth brick
pavement, asphalt, tur or concrete.
The nation’s Intercity highways are
paved.
County roads, not heavily traveled,
are supported by a minimum of tax
payers. They are still a problem, but
one that Is eased by better main
tenance than formerly. Nearly all
farmers own cars. Hence they are
willing to spend their time nnd money
for ro d improvement. This Is In the
form of road dragging each spring,
and oil spreading, which makes the
Hirt Impervious to rain.
The automobile has rapidly ad
vanced highway Improvement In the
United States nnd Canada, where, due
to the great distances to be traversed,
road betterments had been slow In
coining. Large sums obtained from the
license fees paid by motorists are now
annually devoted to road construction
and maintenance.
Improved Highways Save
Expense of Automobile*.
Good roads nre said to have been the
biggest single factor In the 15)23 re
duction of automobile expenses of
Minnesota county agents. Reports
from the county agents show a de
crease in the average mile cost to less
than 57 per cent of the 1920 cost.
George A. Pond, cost accountant, made
a statement to that effect in further
comment on the division bulletin on
the subject. Other tilings which
helped to bring down the auto costs,
he said, were the long, dry season,
making for grenter mileages, the low
er prices ot gasoline and tires, and the
smaller fixed costs, all held Interest
ing to car owners, present and pros
pective.
Concrete Curing Means
Highways at Less Cost
To save labor and speed up the
work, n method of concrete curing has
been Invented. The chemical prepara
tion used is a light dust substance and
Is applied by sifting it from a hopper
on the rear of a truck on which a sup
ply of the material is carried. It ab
soHh moisture front the air and pre
vents drying out of the cement. >ne
man can treat a long stretch of road
In one day. One or two treatments
with th<- material each season are said
to be effective in laying the dust by
binding together the particles that may
have accumulated on gravel cr mac
adr.mized roads.