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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.