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O MARTHA OSTENSO-WNU SERVICE
CHAPTER Vin—Continued
—ll—
— conviction had grown gradu
ally upon Bruce that Autumn was
leading this free life of hers with
some ulterior purpose. He could
not think of her running wild from
choice. Nor had he ever been able
to understand her violent change
of manner toward him, unless the
Laird himself had brought it about
by something he had told her, by
some peremptory ban he had placed
upon their relationship. Even then
he could not credit the change. Au
tumn was too willful, too independ
ent, to permit even her father to
make up her mind for her. Some
thing else, something of which he
was in total ignorance, was behind
it all. But whatever it was, there
was no other course for him except
• harsh discipline in forgetting.
An utter loneliness enveloped him
now as he ascended the scantily tim
bered, wild mountain reaches. Over
only a short distance toward the
north, in the completely still, mys
terious folds of the hills, lay the
Dean summer range, skirting his
own. Across a deep valley, spread
over the palely green mountain-side
opposite, one of the units of the
Laird’s flock was dimly discernible.
Trained though his eyes were to the
ambiguity of vast distances, it was
all Bruce could do to distinguish
the flock in that brilliant, thin at
mosphere. But across the vacancy
there came to him, piercingly sweet,
the sound of a bell. He knew that
bell—there was only one like it any
where in the Upper Country. It
was Autumn Dean’s Basque bell.
The sound of it had drawn him
across the valley on his last trip,
nearly a month ago now, and he
had spent an hour of the afternoon
with the young Irish lad who was
one of the Laird’s herders. He would
never forget the wistful blue eyes
of the boy and the eagerness with
which he strove to prolong the visit.
As the sound of the bell struck
across his senses now, Bruce strove
grimly to repudiate the significance,
to himself, of that sound. It was
sheer sentimentality on his own part
that the bell seemed to chime Au
tumn’s name. He resolved that on
his next trip into the hills he would
leave home early enough to turn
aside and spend an hour with the
young herder. He would do so to
day but that he had to get back in
time for an appointment he had
made that night with a buyer in
Kamloops.
It was late that evening when
Bruce drew up to the curb and got
from his car before a gray, weath
ered building that had served as a
trading post in the old days. The
structure housed a billiard parlor
now and was known locally as
“Sandy’s Place.” It had become a
rendezvous for cattle and sheep
men, ranch hands seeking employ
ment, and nondescript transients.
But despite the determination of the
years to mold it to a less romantic
form, there clung about it still some
of the pungent, zestful air of times
gone by when sourdoughs and che
chahcos drifted in for a night’s lodg
ing and a game of poker. The pro
prietor was a rugged old Scotchman
who had himself been a prospector
on Williams Creek.
There were not more than a half
dozen idlers in the front room of the
place when Bruce entered. He
looked them over and sauntered into
the back room, pausing in the door
way to glance about for the buyer
he had come to see. He discov
ered his man in a far corner of the
smoke-filled room, seated at a poker
table with four others. Bruce moved
across the room and spoke to him.
The buyer looked up. “Hello, Lan
dor!” he greeted.
Bruce spoke to the other men at
the table.
“Buy a stack and sit in, Landor,”
one of them invited.
“Not tonight,” Bruce replied. “I’m
going home to bed as soon as I’ve
had a word with Myers, here.”
“I’ll be with you in a minute,”
said Myers.
Bruce lighted a cigarette and
watched the progress of the play.
He was not sure just what had
drawn his attention to a conversa
tion at the table behind him, but
presently the mention of Jarvis
Dean’s name caused him to glance
around. Curly Belfort, a rancher
from the Ashcroft district, was do
ing the talking while the others lis
tened. Belfort had evidently been
drinking. Bruce gave his attention
to the game at Myers’ table.
The click of the chips and the
monotonous sound of voices lay
drowsily upon his senses after a
day in the mountains.
Belfort’s voice thrust itself boister
ously upon his consciousness. Bruce
could not help hearing the words.
“—and, by God, if there wasn’t
old Dean’s daughter standin’ up out
o’ the haystack, an’ stretchin’ her
self at seven o’clock in the mornin’.
An’ I says to young Parr, ‘Do you
think I’m runnin’ a country hotel, or
somethin’? Or is this the way they
do it in Europe?’ I says. But he
kept on tinkerin’ with his car.” Bel
fort laughed heartily at his own
joke. “Some gal the Laird’s brat
has turned out to be, spendin’ the
night in a haystack with—”
Bruce had got up abruptly and
•tapped over beside Belfort, his face
gone suddenly white, his mouth fixed
in a slight, contemplative smile as
he stood looking down at the ranch
er.
“You’ve had too much to drink,
Curly,” Bruce interrupted him.
Belfort’s eyes moved in slow in
solence up and down Bruce’s body.
Then his mouth twisted to one side
in a drunken leer as he laid his
cards down on the table in front of
him.
“Who’s tellin’ me?” he asked.
“I’m telling you,” Bruce replied.
“Only a drunken swine would talk
the way you’re talking.”
Belfort got to his feet with an
oath, but Bruce pushed him back
into his chair. Muttering to him
self, Belfort sprang up and lifted
the chair. Before he could swing it,
Bruce’s hand had shot out and the
man staggered backwards and
stumbled to the floor. The other
men in the room rushed forward to
intervene, old Sandy among them.
Before they could prevent it, how
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Autumn was too willful, too in
dependent, to permit even her fa
ther to make up her mind
for her.
ever, Belfort was on his feet and
was rushing at Bruce.
“Stop this, now!” old Sandy or
dered.
But even as he spoke, Bruce
struck again and Belfort crumpled
to the floor.
Sandy flung his arms desperately
about Bruce. “Stop it, lad!” he
cried excitedly. “Stop it, or we’ll
have the law on us!”
Bruce shook him coolly off. “Bet
ter not step into this, Sandy,” he
advised. “Belfort has something to
say to me or one of us has to take
a licking, law or no law!”
Belfort had pulled himself togeth
er with painful difficulty. Bruce
strode over to him, but old Sandy
stepped between them and faced
Belfort.
“Here, now,” he demanded,
“what’s all this about? What’s it
about. Curly?”
“Ask him,” Belfort snarled.
“What’s it all about?” Sandy
begged of Bruce, maintaining his
position stoutly between them.
“Belfort knows,” Bruce replied.
“He has been talking about a cer
tain young lady whose name—”
“There was another woman with
her, damn you!” Belfort screamed,
his face livid. “And another man!
The car was broke down.”
“What you said was a lie, then,
wasn’t it?” Bruce prompted.
“I told nothing but what I saw
with my own eyes,” Belfort retort
ed.
“What you implied was a damn
lie!” Bruce challenged, stepping to
ward him.
Belfort’s head began wagging to
and fro as he watched Bruce in a
sort of stupid fascination. Presently
he nodded. “If you want to look at
it that way,” he admitted. “I was
only talkin’.”
“Think twice before you talk like
that again,” Bruce advised him cas
ually, taking a cigarette from his
shirt pocket as he spoke.
A half dozen of Belfort’s friends
had got around him and were urg
ing him toward the door.
“I’ll talk to you again,” said Bel
fort, over his shoulder.
“Any time, Curly,” Bruce replied,
and lit his cigarette.
Sandy scratched his head in relief
as Belfort disappeared through the
doorway. Then he shook his head
at Bruce. “Yon’s a bad actor, lad,”
he said quietly. “I’d be lookin’ out
for him if I was you.”
“I intend to,” said Bruce and
turned again to take the seat be
side Myers.
CHAPTER IX
The Laird had asked old Hector
Cardigan to dinner. It was rarely
these days that Hector was invited
to dine alone with Jarvis Dean. In
the old days he had frequently been
a guest at the Castle, but that, as
Hector knew, had been Millicent’s
doing. There had never been any
thing but the most cordial relation
ship between the two men, however,
but Jarvis had lived too much to
BAKER COUNTY NEWS
By
MARTHA
OSTENSO
himself during the yeass since his
wife’s death.
It was not until they had left the
table, however, and had retired to
the drawing room that his host gave
any inkling of what was on his mind.
The Laird had paused in the hallway
and asked whether they would go
to the library or sit in the drawing
room. Hector had not hesitated in
making the choice. The library was
the one spot in the house that be
longed peculiarly to Jarvis Dean.
The drawing room, on the other
hand, had been Millicent’s and held
still some lingering aroma of her
presence there. Besides, Hector’s
hand had done its best in making
the room what it was.
“Os course,” Jarvis said, when
Hector had expressed his prefer
ence. “I might have known. Go in
and sit down. I’ll fetch the brandy.”
And now the two men sat on op
posite sides of the empty fireplace,
their old-fashioned brandy glasses in
their hands, pledging each other’s
health in stately and ancient fash
ion. The Laird trimmed and lighted
a cigar, turning it round and round
in his fingers as he contemplated it
pensively. Hector drew a cigarette
from his own case and lighting it,
extinguished the match and placed
it carefully on the tray beside him.
“It isn’t often,” the Laird began,
“that I ask a man to help me con
sider my private affairs.”
“It isn’t often you have required
the advice of another,” Hector en
couraged.
Jarvis blew a thick cloud of smoke
from his lips and sighed heavily.
“That’s a polite remark, sir,” he
said as if he were talking to him
self, “but it’s a prodigious lie, just
the same.”
Hector knew his host. To be
called a liar by Jarvis Dean was no
offense, unless the mood itself
were an offensive one.
“I know of no law against a man
being polite to his host,” Hector
countered.
“There ought to be, then,” said
the Laird. “A man would be bet
ter off if he heard the truth now and
then, even across his own dinner
table.”
Hector coughed lightly. “The av
erage man is no better off, sir, no
matter where he hears the truth.”
Jarvis seemed to consider that
matter for a moment, then dusted
the gray ash lightly from the end
of his cigar. “Have you heard about
this fracas in old Sandy’s back room
a night or two ago?” he asked
abruptly.
“I was told about it,” Hector ad
mitted cautiously.
“Aye — and the whole country
knows about it. It’s a dirty busi
ness.”
“But one over which we have lit
tle control, I’m afraid.”
Jarvis’ look sharpened. “We have
something to say on what brought
it about,” he said. “In my day a
young woman’s name—if she was
a lady—wasn’t mentioned in such a
place.”
“I have no doubt young Landor
feels much the same about it—even
in these days.”
“That’s not the point, sir. In my
day a young woman gave no rea
son for having her name bandied
about over a poker table.”
“The times have changed, it
seems,” Hector murmured.
“It’s our own fault, then. We’ve
let these youngsters get out of hand
with their racing about the country
in automobiles and their abominable
cocktails and the like. Where is it
going to stop?”
Hector sighed, half-amused, and
yet thoroughly aware of what was
troubling the Laird’s mind.
“They’ll probably all marry and
settle down and have children of
their own to plague them in their
turn,” he said lightly.
Jarvis leaned forward in his chair
and looked fixedly at his guest. “I
want your opinion about that girl of
mine,” he said frankly. “What’s
she like?”
Hector smiled. “She’s your own
daughter, sir,” he replied. “You
ought to know her better than I.”
“I don’t. She was never anything
but a child to me—until now. Since
she came back, she’s been a stran
ger in the house. More than half
the tirpe she’s not here at all. She’ll
be back here tonight from the Parr
Lodge—not alone, either, I’ll war
rant—and the place will be like bed
lam until she goes again.”
Hector got up and tossed his cig
arette into the empty maw of the
fireplace. He walked to the French
windows and looked out upon the
garden that glowed palely under
summer starlight.
“I have been wondering about the
girl,” he said at last. “I have talked
with her, too. She is not happy.”
“Happy?” Jarvis grunted. “What
does she want that she cannot
have?” But his eyes were hall
closed in self-concealment.
“She hasn’t told me that,” Hec
tor replied. • “I can only guess, at
best.”
“What’s your guess, then?”
Hector returned to his seat and
selected another cigarette. “It is
my opinion, Jarvis, that the girl has
been in love—ever since she came
back here.”
The Laird frowned. There was no
escaping the meaning of Hector’s
words. “You mean—this young Lan
dor.”
“Certainly,” said Hector.
Jarvis shrugged impatiently.
“Puppy-love!” he exclaimed. “She’ll
get over that—if she isn’t already
over it.”
Hector looked steadily at the Laird
for a moment without speaking.
“What you see,” he said at last, his
voice very low, “is probably the
process by which she hopes to get
over it. And it would not surprise
me to learn that she finds it as
painful as you do.”
“Tommyrot!” the Laird exploded.
“You have asked my opinion,”
Hector said with dignity, “and I
am giving it.”
“If I thought there was anything
to that,” the Laird replied, “I’d sell
up and get out—and take her with
me.”
“I know you would,” Hector ob
served, " —and accomplish noth
ing.”
“What do you mean by that, sir?”
Hector smiled patiently at the
Laird. "You ought to know the
breed better than to ask that,” he
said. “If Millicent’s daughter is in
love, there’s very little that either
you or I can do about it, I think.”
There followed a long silence at
the end of which Jarvis helped him
self to another drink and poured one
for his guest. They toasted each
other as cordially as if there had
been no disagreement between
them, and then the Laird turned
abruptly to talking of things that
left no room for difference of
opinion.
It was almost midnight when Au
tumn finally came home, bringing
Linda Parr with her to stay for a
few days at the Castle. The girls
came upon the two old men seated
before the fireplace, their brandy
glasses in their hands, their eyes
grown heavy from sitting up long
past their time for bed.
“Why, Da —we had no idea you’d
be waiting for us at this hour!”
Autumn exclaimed, after greetings
had gone around. “You should have
been in bed hours ago.”
She laid aside her hat and gloves
as she spoke and seated herself in
one of the Queen Anne chairs, her
feet curled up under her, her el
bow resting on the arm of the chair,
her chin pressed against her palm.
Linda sat near her, comically
prim, her hands folded in her lap,
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“But we’re used to it, Mr. Dean.”
her feet placed very precisely on
the floor—the image of discreet pro
priety.
“The hour is no later for me than
it is for you, my girl,” Jarvis re
plied, his voice betraying a little im
patience as he spoke.
“But we’re used to it, Mr. Dean,”
Linda offered with a smile.
“So I have been informed,” said
the Laird. “Are you young ladies
aware that your conduct is creating
a deal of talk in the district?”
Autumn smiled. “You’re not both
ering your head, Da, over what the
gossips have to say about—”
“I’m bothering my head about
you, my girl,” he interrupted her.
“Do you know that your name was
the center of a scandalous brawl in
the back room of a dive in Kam
loops the other night?”
“We’ve heard all about it, Da,”
Autumn replied. “It was simply
absurd.”
“But piquant,” Linda put in.
“Belfort is a beast,” Autumn went
on.
“A girl with any respect for her
self doesn’t give a beast any excuse
for talking,” her father observed.
Autumn checked her rising anger.
“There were four of us in the par
ty—Lin and I, and Florian and a
friend of his,” she explained. “We
were coming home along the high
way from Ashcroft We got started
later than we had intended and when
we got as far as Belfort’s ranch the
car broke down. While the boys
worked on the car, Lin and I went
to sleep in a haystack close to the
road. Belfort towed us to a garage
about seven o’clock in the morning.”
“Or we should have been there
still,” Linda added.
“And that’s all there is to the
story,” Autumn concluded.
“I accept your account on its mer
its,” Jarvis Dean said, “but it ex
plains nothing. The whole esca
pade was a scandal and an out
rage, whether Belfort had anything
to do with it or not. There’ll be
no repetition of the like, my girL
if you are to remain in my house!”
Hector Cardigan remained silent,
but every now and then a profound
sigh escaped him which was to Au
tumn singularly audible above th*
deep and vehement tones of her fa
ther’s voice.
(TO BE CONTINUED),
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AKE yourself this pretty prin
cess (8576) for town wear,
business and general runabout, in
a dark shade or your favorite
bright color. The double collar
and cuffs give you a chance to
work out daring and delightful
contrasts, in a season when ad
venturous color combinations are
so extremely smart. And you can
trust this dress to make your fig
ure look slim and youthful, small
ASK ME O
ANOTHER (
The Questions
1. Can you write 600 in Roman
numerals?
2. Is the income of the Presi
dent taxable?
3. Who cut the Gordian Knot?
4. Which of our wars was known
as Mr. Madison’s war?
5. Which is the middle verse of
the Bible?
6. Which woman has had more
statues erected to her memory
than any other woman?
7. Which race is increasing its
population the fastest?
8. Do plants grow more at night
than during the day?
9. Which is the correct quota
tion: “Far from the maddening
crowd,” or “Far from the mad
ding crowd”?
10. What per cent of the world’s
population is still governed by
monarchs?
The Answers
1. DC.
2. His salary as President is not.
Any other income he may have,
is.
3. Alexander the Great.
4. The War of 1812.
5. The eighth verse of the 118th
Psalm.
6. Joan of Arc.
7. The white races of the world
are doubling their populations ev
ery 80 years, the yellow and brown
races every 60 years and the black
races every 40 years.
8. Although trees and other
green plants require light to devel
op, virtually all of their growth
takes place at night. Those in
dark or shaded places grow faster
than those exposed to brighter
light.
Are Women Better Q
Shoppers than Men ■
GRANTING * woman’s reputation for wise buying, let’s trace the
methods by which she has earned it. Where does she find out about
the advantages and details of electrical refrigeration? What tells her
how to keep the whole household clean —rugs, floors, bathroom
tiling — and have energy left over for golf and parties? How does
she learn about new and delicious entrees and desserts that surprise
and delight her family? Where does she discover those subtleties
of dress and make-up that a man appreciates but never understands?
Why, she reads the advertisements. She is a consistent, thought
ful reader of advertisements, because she has found that she can
believe them—and profit thereby. Overlooking the advertisements
would be depriving herself of data continuously useful in her job
of Purchasing Agent to the Family.
For that matter, watch a wise man buy a car or a suit or an insur
ance policy ..Not a bad shopper himself! He reads advertisements, too!
and supple at the waist. Mate
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If you’ve done scarcely any sew
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mended as a good one to begin on,
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Pattern No. 8576 is designed for
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14 requires 4% yards of 39-inch
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trasting for each collar and cuffs.
% yard ribbon.
For a pattern of this attractive
model send 15 cents in coins, your
name, address, style, number and
size to The Sewing Circle Pattern
Dept., Room 1324, 211 W. Wacker
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Strange Facts
I ‘Black-Out' Lights ■
Street Car Diners
* Immortal Trees *
For “black-outs” during air
raids, England has perfected high
way and traffic lights, headlights
and police uniforms that can be
seen only by those on the ground.
Geneva, Switzerland, has street
cars whose entire space is given
over to restaurants in which the
passengers eat and drink as they
travel through the city.
Many navies now use a torpedo
that appears to be aimed at a point
far ahead or far behind its target
but, after going some distance,
suddenly makes a right or left«,
swing and strikes before its ob
jective can turn away.
A study of marital tendencies
reveals that a much larger num
ber of widowed and divorced men
marry spinsters than widowed and
divorced women marry bachelors.
The giant redwood trees in Cali
fornia and Oregon have never
been known to die a natural death.
—Collier’s.
A Quiz With Answers
Offering Information
on Various Subjects
9. “Far from the madding
crowd,” from Gray’s Elegy.
10. Despite the widespread change
in the governments since the
World war, eight hundred million
persons, or 40 per cent of the en
tire population of the globe, still
are governed by kings, queens,
emperors and other monarchs.
W^COLDSW
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All is distress and misery when
we act against our nature and
consent to ill.—Sophocles.
A GREAT BARGAIN
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50 Cups for IO Cents
■ Ask Your Grocer
Use Limitations
One’s limitations are also his
opportunities.