Decatur Daily Democrat, Volume 28, Number 199, Decatur, Adams County, 22 August 1930 — Page 5

PROGRESS Harriet Welles

*-* w,,h * flrß t came on that •< Jlth the reßt of ?,* * v . *, h '"'- s southwestern hamlet. ,n view the arrival of ks w rnt out ’ Government's the United _ Bi , v(K . a ted and sponjgnv’i h rr d War Jeff erby * f ”^7 o " f e “ h e dlfficu!- £ ,MV ': ,O tr. V of war ' n , , e n IwlaW miliary posts W«tX Plain 8 - * r ' „ small that he did not Jem was »° offered hy hta IF'" calico skirt. lit .tumbled al me to (he r<J( , e th, deeply ru ‘^ d a)wnyß , his mother * "XnUon to his breathless P*' l! n ° m match her headlong SXVg Brown was generally •I*"" 1 V , .h. men of the scttle":U<“lrith the lenient adjective of tbi -men were not ‘“commented ’..torekeeper Smithy w wife- “Quit pickin' on M<£ can’t Wp h that -be lint bright!" ■She's bright enough to ge , without doin' enough real ' ’ to I,™ her blood clrculatln . Ms wife, grimly—and spoke ... tru’h Mrs. Brown's methods S Xing a livelihood were as * e as her explanations concernformer habitation, her *.k>w«d state, and Jem's paternity Tc.nl rentember her own -ortrt- Mrs Smith had asserted than on« when her husband JZpted to laugh away Meg Brown’s erratic behavior. •Well 1 reckon Jem’s pa must ..been a pretty good sort, ’cause Jem had to take afVer somebodyr bp's too steady to favor his ma. you ever noticed how crazy th.it Itttle kid ts about mountains’” Cti’ldless Mrs. Smith nodded and trb'fuUy voiced an old wonderamt: “How come such a triflin' •vmMito have such a good child?" ghe wondered It again on thto morning when, with the rest of the townsfolk, she awaited the arrival of the first camel train. Jem had oidled shyly over to her. slipping l small grimy hand into hors. His mother, lost In the enjoyment of Boctferous ’ argument concerning the camels' origin, had completely forgotten his existence. "Bill Smith told me they come to America on a navy ship from foreign parts, an’ they got a parcel o’ Mack drivers with 'em!” Meg Brown quoted, shrilly, "Bill says as how they couldn't never build a railroad 'cross the country, 'count ot the desert, an' It bein' too far between waterin' places—but camfl' don't need no water!" "There ain't nothin' livin' that fion't need some water!” commented Mrs. Bill Smith with an emphasis entirety disproportionate to the subject under discussion. Meg Brown Instantly agreed with ter adversary: “That's what I told Bill—but you know how he Is!" Eusued a silence, broken hy Simeone’s discovery of the first glimpse of the approaching camels, .nd as they came slowly nearer (Hence again descended Jem Brown. Aaerving four dark-skinned Arab Stivers, strengthened his grasp Upon the hand of his friend, the (torekeeper's wife, as he watched the cameleers dismount. Meg Rrowm boldy approached the blond Texan in charge: "Hello! Clad to see you! , . Say, what're they a-ehewin’? , Ain't they proud-lookln't" She •tailed with ingratiating friendliness. • The man In charge recognized her type "Sure, sister! They've been haughty an' set-up ever since We branded 'em!" She welcomed bls pleasantly with "rad laughter. “Say. wasn't there no new camels where them came from? These look so kinda rough ragged didn't they have no leek ones " "You're smart, ain't you?" His tone was resentful. "These 1 s the rame ’ crop! Thß( b| fi CnlL h c re W: ” a to «he ralted States from the King of Tunls-and kings don't give awav no second-hand camels!” He Mused to glance down at the fasclMtod Jem. “gay. young feller> ™ W<i you like for me to lift you M tta°m.i° f ‘ he ramela? " Then. ?™. n,an a ' Mrpsse ‘ 1 the atoreW,fe: " Touy ™- 8 Bhy. hM no '"tentlon of XT I?' " ny a< ’ van ‘age she rtranec^ 3 ln . with the masterful X7 1,0 tln,t hers - 118,8 f.v?' p "' bP ' n ' ” hy ' he surp don't and t yOU l ’ < ‘ ornm ented the Texan, dlr»c»< llr,t ,!<1 away to give some camels for the n |ght looke ” their fill, the j,? 1 ' 1 began to diaperse. Meg rr" ° n Thß inteX attrart ®’ s h " r vagrant laurh/' he huns abr ”” hlm th/ tal king. And since brattt, U hfUl ,lnsf> of abundant gleam W . n9 ln her ooloring. the (hlnin ''l bronze tn her heavy Mice » la r ' her evident preferfoima fOr ,he .‘ranger's society tound response. from* e ,hat evenln to. half aroused the v n ePP 81eep - sm all Jem heard raised °, e ° f ,be man ln charge toother- "v n ar^lmen t w “h his like it v. ”° U Bay ,hat you don't tosh win/' ,hat the women *s UPt th you—why d'you utay? onlv h,.' a ' w ays say: when you food u ° ne 'f® 10 bve ' have a M at lme whila YOU can! . . If th ». The bov? . t you v‘, a . "" you ’ye got to bother Cma n luck! That who s husband keeps the

store'll be gind to CPt Jem—" There followed a confused jumble of detached directions concerning an early departure. And when, shortly after dawn, Jem awakened, it was to find the cabin deserted, his mother gone; the fascinating stranger’s lure ot riding forth to new untroubled fields, upon a camel’s back, had been too much for Meg Brown to resist. What became of her, her son never learned. Wistfully ho wondered why. if she had gone toward the mountains, she had not taken him along. But the settlement was not disturbed again by her THE next years were busy, uneventful ones for Jem Rrown. The man In charge of the ! camel train proved himself to be an expert In passing snap judgment; the storekeeper’s wife took immediate and affectionate charge of the little boy—and never regretted It Jem more than paid' hts way. carrying water In palls which increased In size with his .own growth; running endless errands upon willing feet; plant tng and weeding Mrs Smith's vegetable garden and helping her in the kitchen; working behind the counter of the store—hut always when he had a little time to himi self, he went out beyond the edge of the town to stare, hungry eyed toward the mounutatns rimming the wide valley. He was nineteen when nn epidcmic of typhoid carried off the Smiths within two days of each other and left him. without ties or funds, to face the future. His foster-father’s partner urged him Ito stay on in the store, offered 'r - ducements. but Je m wns not to be lw gulled: restlessness had over taken him. "It's gettln’ crowdedlike here; too many folks." U n . consciously he made a gesture toward the rainbow-tinted mountain peaks swinging up through the bright air under a sky of Ineffable Mue "Long's the Smiths was alive an' wanted me. I gcred T owed it to 'em to stay. Rut now they've went, you oughta see that I got to be a-movtn' toward the hills!" explained Jem Brown querulously. For several years, he drifted I clerking in remote stores and trading posts, driving mail and stage coaches, working about the mines. All through the West during those strenuous days the talk and fevor of gold waxed as steadily persistent as the lilt of wind through the pines. Jem Rrown. 1 drifting with the ebb and flow, clerking behind counters nt which prospectors bought their coffee and bacon, swinging his whip from the driver’s seat of stage-coaches, listened carefully to the unceasing talk of lodes and strikes, of faults and contacts Pocket hunting for small rich deposits of ore near the earth's surface was, he early learned, the most possible and profitable form of gold mining for an amateur without capital; thoughtfully he studie.d the rules for this endeavor until the day when, having achieved a small surplus. he bnde farewell to the settlements and went on his own account toward the moutalns His progress was a leisurely business of working down the ranges: in time he covered a surprisingly large area of wandering, became impervious to weather or hardship, lived almost entirely off the land. As the years went by. he found walls and a roof increasingly unbearable, was happy only when he was among the wlnd- | tilted cedars of the higfi country or panning out gravel In the rocky ishallows of some mountain stream: Inevitably, with so much looking, he made occasional finds which were always more than sufficient to supply his few needs It was after one of these pmfitable finds that, journeying down I toward the settlement with his ore. jhe fell in with other prospectors Innd heard the new talk of a railroad over which the first transcontinental train was soon to make its 'triumphant progress. The whole account was so amazing and Incredible that Jem Brown deterI mined to see it for himself: lahorI iously he notched off on a stick 1 the number of days which would ensue before the great event. Through some error in his cheokIng system he arrived at the nearest railroad town a day late; the ! epoch-making train had passed, but reliable witnesses testified to having seen it. and led him out to J look at the shining rails Frowning. he pondered over the advisability of lingering about until the | performance should be repeated, lard decided in favor of It. He was influenced in his deciJpn by the presence of a small circus operating, for a week. In a cleared field at the town's edge, and by the discovery that among the chief exhibits was a frowsy camel, bearing upon Its side the brand of the United States, counterhranded by a suhsenuent purchaser. But by no stretch of Imagination could he connect the swarthy Mexican who rode the camel with the tall and blond young Texan of the cavalcade of his early memories: nor could his close observation of the circus folk off duty reveal any woman who might be his mother This possibility being dismissed, he went conscientiously through the attractions offered, commencing with the tent performances and working slowly down to the last of the sideshows. Through two afternoons it was the- armless woman with the trained feet who completely fascinated him: breathlessly he watched her through the achievement of threading a needle and darning a

DECATUR DAILY DEMOCRAT FRIDAY, AUGUST 22, 1930.

L\ WO" > ZdH'Wir WrW" 7 I ’ ytjMi (ri;' ’J&TSriIP' 1 j \ —■ —— — ' '———— "" Jem Brown Listened Carefully to the Unceasin’ Ta!k of Lodes and Strikes.

sock, writing her name and the name of the town and State, fanning herself. Then, taking up a small saw, she commenced with some effort to demolish a plank It was a most arduous procedure Jem Brown, worriedly observing the exertion expended, forgot his shyness and offered advice: "Ma'am. If you'd get that saw filed —if you’d just only get that saw filed—" She paused in her undertaking to eye him grimly: "Young feller. I guess maybe you’re right, because you're about the seventieth man that's told me that this week—" She sighed heavily. “What'd you think if I told you that I’ve been exhibitin' ever since early this mornln’. at«l ain't had a bite to eat? 1 guess there wouldn’t be no kick, if I was pressed to go to the eatln'-house before 1 drop in my tracks. Talk about your feet getting tired —" He was divided between panic at the thought of escorting the celebrity through the crowd and utter horror o'er the possibility of having to watch her eat. or feeding her himself. Even as he hesitated. glancing frantically about in search of an avenue of escape, someone behind him spoke: “Couldn't you go get somethin' an’ bring it In here to her’ I know the folks that run the eatin'house an’ they'll loan you the dishes to fetch it on, if I say so ” Jem Brown turned thankfully to face a young girl, small and very frail, with hollow eyes and a hectic color. “Maybe you’d be willin’ to go with me?" he stammered. She agreed. ”1 live at the eatin’house—wait on table there. My name's Jenny — Jenny Burke —" She broke off In a paroxysm of violent coughing; when she hsd finished there was a bright slain or. the handkerchief she held against her Ups “Ain't it awful ... to be sick? I'm so scared I can't hold my lob—but it's gettln’ to be more than I can do to lift the trays." she confided to him. Again he forgot hts snyness: “You oughtn't to be a-tryln' to lift trays. Where's your folks’ Why don’t someone look out for you" “1 ain't got no folks And Mis’ Flynn at the earin'-house Is a widow jvonian with a big fam’ly of children Here It is!" She quickly made the arrangements for the armless wonder's food Together they returned toward the side-show "1 ain't met you before. 1 suppose you come to see the railroad train go past? Where do you live?" Inquired Jenny Burke, politely Above the tray he carried Jem Brown Indicated the distant peaks with a motion of his head: "in the mountains—” "Do you now? Way off there! Ain’t It lonely?" “Not so lonely as the towns. An' the air’s clear an’ clean an* smells sweet of pine-trees I'd die She sobered "I'd like the smell ot pines an the clear air, too I don't Sleep nights for worryin'over what’s to become of me when 1 can't work no more."

JEM BROWN stayed in the town long enough to see a train go by upon the shining rails, tl>en returned to the hills. But this time he did not go alone, the girl Jenny rode beside him on a pack burro. Even weary Mrs. Flynn's conscientious unwillingness to be rid of Jenny “unless it was all right” was overcome by Jem’s readiness to be married by Father Collins. "No'm. 1 aln t go no other wife anywhere. An' I ain’t marryin’ Jenny to get a wife Once, when I was a kid. 1 got left in the lurch, an' some folks looked out for me. I'm handin' it on to her. She’s too sick to work, an' I'm a-iigurin' I I can make her comfort’ble in one of them cabins thv Guayule outfit j abandoned when their lode petered out. [ And so. immediately after the I ceremony, they d''parted toward the mountains. Besides the bride’s slight weight, the burro carried supplies, Jenny's small bundle of clothing, and her one treasure, a book "A dude prospector left It at the eatin’-house —said he didn't want it no more—so Mis' Flynn gave It to me." Jenny spelled out the title: '"Seven Lamps of Ar-chl-tec-ure.' Ain’t that a queer name?" He nodded. “Real queer. I ain't never owned a hoik Couldn't make sense out of it if I had ” "I’ll read it to you." she promised "Now tell me more bout the mountains." This was familiar ground All day. while the trail mounted steadily upward, he tol*l her of the boasts and birds and trees, of the mother bear and her lame cub In Heil Roaring Canyon, the bluejays at Cypress Falls. “The reason you ain't never felt lonely's because you’ve got such lots of friends!" said Jenny, wistfully, "You'll like ’em, too. Animals ain’t same's folks, they don't disappoint you." He was right During the few months that remained to her she knew the happiest days In all of her short and pinched existence. The little cabin was a marvel as sp.aciQus comfort to her. the plentiful food an epicurean Indulgence. It was already too late, when Jem Brown found her, to do more than , make the remainder of her life easier; '.nd though each day she achieved less and less, her hold on living slipped gently from her slight grasp. She k p pt her word about reading aloud True, much of it was unintelligible to both reader and is tenor, but. like some appealing theme In a classic overture, they came upon intervals which capitured their attention "Ain't it a nice book. Jem? It says that If you can’t afford muchmoney things, you should buv the best of stuff that you can afford— Just tike sayin'. Jenny, you buy good cailco stead of sleazy poplin!'" Jem. lounging by the fireplace, proffered comment ‘Wh- n vou live outdoors you don’t have to bother 'bout what's good or bad. | t's hll for the best." | "I s'pose so—but ev’ry one ain’t tough enough to stay out winter'n

i summer, the way you do. They ' have to come In to sleep at least.” "That s where they begin makin' 1 thcirselves lots ot trouble! Read It again—where tt tells about the houses folks build." She opened the book “As regards domestic buildings, there must always be certain limitations i to views of this kind in the pvwer. las well as in the hearts of men. f still I cannot but think it an evil sign of a people when their houses are built to last for one gem ration only.’ ” He interrupted: "I’ll bet tlie thin shacks down to the railroad town don't last no generation! They commence to sag 'fore they’re finished!" ''That’s true 1 used to want to run iiutsMe the eatin'-house ev'rv time the wind blowed.” She utopped to <*ough. then glanced further down the page- "Here's some about you. Jem " she laughed: ’” —the crowded tenements of a struggling and restless population differ only from the tents of the zXrab or the Gypsy by their less healthy openness to the air of heaven, aid less happy choice of their spot of earth' you’re an Arab an' a Gypsy!" she tensed "If likin’ the air of heaven proves it. I am!" Her expression became frightened and wistful "Sav. Jem d’vmi know what I think heaven's a-goin' to be like? Well, there ain’t a-gofn’ to tie no towns there just lots of mountains, an' pines an' space where folks can live the wav they | like, not the way someone else says! An' I wouldn't want no hard gold pavements an’ streets to walk on—not if I could have a sunshiny .trail—would .vou?" | Jem shook his head "If there's such lots of good folks that it's crowded. I don't want to go there nohow." He thought it over “Wherever there's plcntiy of folks, there’s pl-ntv of talk about progress Know what progress Is? yVell, it’s inventin' somethin' to carry you over the country so fast that you cant see nothin' you're a-passin’. That's progress!" Jenny glanced down at the illustration of a tracery from the Campanile of Giotto at Florence “Os course all the things them progresses have done .ain't had I.ook [at this! Say. Jem. if ever you make a big strike let's go an’ see these pla< es in the hook " She hesitated "An’ if 1 ain't around just remember I would a-been If 1 could—an' you go anyhow Promise!" He laughed a: such a prenortcrous idea, then as she stubbornly Insisted, indulgently agreed "I'm perf’ctly safe in sayin yes!" "Remember, you've promised I i'll ha'nt you if you break your w ord!" AFTER she wns gone, and h" had awkwardly smoothed over the small mound under the wind-tilted cypress, he shoul-d-red his pick and shovel packed his gold pan. coffee-pot. bread-tln. and frying-pan. and wandered lonesomely forth to face the most arduous winter of his experience. He had spent the money gained through his last find on small luxuries for Jenny For the first

time since he started upon a career of pocket hunting, his luck did not hold. Perhaps his wistful memories and preoccupations made him ! dull and careless, but several times during that long winter of roaring winds, deep drifts, and blttei;. blue-white cold he staggered back to the cabin on Guayule j more dead than alive from hunger and exhaustion. It came to him during those months—when his thoughts turned homestckly toward the little hut —that the first thing i he would do when he made another strike would be to buy the Guayule: Jonny's grave and the small house should be hts But three springs of long mlns had followed three difficult winters before his luck turned, .and he was able to make a small Initial payment against the claims held by the defunct Guavule Mining Company And then, almost as If fate had awaited his possession of the papers. Jem Brown. listlessly Investigating an iron stain on the rock wail below the spring, came upon hts first appreclnble find for several days he examined c'-vtnln derails nf hts discovery and ..fl ai last scowling down st the mat iof floating gold particles In hts j pan, or staring with narrowed eyes at the place from which he had taken it Here was fortune knocking! Whnt answer shou! I he make? irrelevantly haif-forg' ttcn scmps of overheard conversations btween gold-hungry prosper-mrs loitering about the trading-post-came back to him: cities, women, liquor. shop worn girls. grimy pleajuires. These were the prizes purchasable when money wns plentiful, easy gifts of easy gn'ns: frowning he thought It over Some Instinct which hnd made him detest towns and crave the austerities of the mountains drew fastidiously hark fmm '■ontemplntlon of the proposed orgy Meg Brown had only been his mother A little breeze stirred the trr-es and moved the blue gentians at his feet and. like a message. Jenny s eyes looked up at him "Remember—you proms-ed!" came back ber voice • What had he promised’ Oh. yes! To visit those pnlnres and cathedrals of which she had read to him Rut. Jennv. 1 was ohlv a-jokin'! I wouldn't a-promised If I’d thought I'd ever a-found this!" be expostulated aloud The gentians fluttered their fringed edges tn the breeze Jem Pr«wn groaned "I won't be bullied! . . . Rut If I go hack Mil my word 1 p pose you'll be a remindin' m" of it from every .foot of ground!" The gentians were verv still, very blue Oh, well. 11l go!" he I said, resignedly So comnienbed a pathetic odyssev. Amazed clerks In railroad and steamship offices ilstenM to his terse stipulations, glltrmtied his abundant mo’“ ys—and quickly arranged his itinerary He made a strange figure against the Old World backgrounds: his baggy readymade clothes attracted curious glances tn the hotels which he patronized, accepting without comment, paying without question; and all the time dumbly en-

during the smothering restrictions ot four walls and a ceiling, or wandering. confused, and miserable through the clamorous babel of the dties. Only with the guides who piloted htm about the palaces and cathedrals did be exchange conversation. and from them, since he [ was generous with tips, be won especial attention and privileges. And though Angelo. Giotto. Cor- ; reggio, and Giorgione were loss than names to Jem Brown the sin- I certty of their achievements was [as a bridge to carry him back [home; a sculptured tracery of leaves reminded him of certain trees on the windy ridges above Guayule and brought a lump in his throat; details of clear color In a world-famous window danced like the deep sparkle of sunlight I In th" pool at Cypress Falls —and Kurrvd before his gaae; the starred ceiling of an Italian chapel was but a pale Imitation of the night i sky above Guayule; the gentle eyes of a painted madonna were not so gentian blue ns Jenny’s . In a moment of panic he wondered if she was safe beneath the cypresses—coyotes were such inquisitive maraudersr-then sternly dismissed the thought. But at dawn on the morning after his return to Guayule he , nwakened to see the first pure light j filter down through the pine blanches, to smell the Incense of the balsams, and to bear the Utting ecstasy of a choir of meadow-larks: looking and listening. Jem Brown breathed a deep sigh of ineffable content. He was safe at last. safe. He never reopened the cache below the spring- from which he had tsken out the ore which paid for his journey abroad; In his mind that gold was consecrated to cities, to confusion, to progress Jem Rrown had done what Jenny asked —but he had finished forever with progress RUSKIN hnd said In jenny’s book: "Men tire ns they finish”: and Jem Rrown. stumbling up the slope of Guayule, was Increasingly convinced of the truth and wisdom of this statement. He, who had thought himself Immune and wnpervious tn any whim of wind nr weather, find come to discover nature too boisterous for him True, forty years had passed since he came back from ills one journey tiway from the mountains—but what were forty vears And yet . during that final climb Os his lite, the unnoted years cstight up with him: he was almost ready ro compromise I Now that his life was se nearly over he pondered—divided between elation and resentment —upon what had happened to man’s Invention, progress that, for so long a period, hta life’s path ti; d gone by vnpunctunted by one of her devan taring milestones Progress would need to hurry if she held anything in wait tor him now! “She’s welto do her worst!" he muttered aloud Three days later he regretted his challenge; half-awakening from feverish slumber, he blinked, incredulously at a strange, far-away er-jnd Remote at first, then draw-

ng slowly mvw there was about t" rhythmic. , p fixing steadlneaa tomething appall; ng, >nd sinister. < Feverkhly, he t. vci and turned, ry ng to escape from the envelop* Ing sound. Was thia, perhaps ' what was meant by illness: all sorts of hrnathloss, groundless, vain maglnlngs bred In houses. Scorn'ully he derided himself for his ownrdlce In coming Indoors. This noise at which he cowered wag thunder—thunder, which had so often before volleyed and echoed la the mountains during fierce electrical stormg Defiantly he raised his head. The sound was still there, steady, regular. Insistent—and near! With terror the old man heard the sound of hts first visitor, knocking; and saw the door swing back. ... a A strange figure In leather clothes and a begoggled helmet stood In the opening, stared Into the dim cabin, breathed an exclamation of relief: «i was afraid that this .place was deserted— and I'm miles off my course! I've been trying for two hours to And a bare <pace to come down in; It was just by the merest chance that I saw this clearing—and none too good a landing field at that! On you tell me where I am? What's the nearest town?” He stopped to look more closely at Jem Brown. "The light was so poor that I couldn't see you before! Are you sick? You look . . . ghastly!" The old man could not answer. The stranger stepped inside the cabin. “Isn't there something I could do for you? Water? Where ran I get you a drink?" Feebly Jem Brown pointed t® >he bucket, and indicated the direction ot the spring. The young man returned with the brimming paiL His decisive voice was clear: .'lf you can give me some idea ot v here I am. and the general direction, I think we'd better be on our way. 11l carry you out to the plane, and take you to a hospital. This is the last place for a sick man to be!" * •'Did you . . bear the roarin' . . . overhead, jus' 'fore vou come In? What was.it?" "An airplane.” There was no gleam of understanding In the old man's eyes. The aviator stared at him. “Can’t you understand me? A flying machine! Don't you know what that means? . . . The Invention which makes it possible for men to travel through the air like birds! The greatest achievement of modern progress!" "You mean that . . . even here on the mountain tops . . . I can't get away?" "'Away.' from what? A plane can go anywhere! ” Jem Brown clambered weakly t® j his feet and stumbled to the door--1 way. In the centre of the clear--1 Inga strange, huge, grassbopperI like object stood at rest. It was silent now—but around it everyI thing seemed changed and troubled —and at wbat moment might it not come to life again, hideously challenging the protesting echoes? How—bow—could he get rid of It and of Its master? Determinedly he faced the avaitor: "I’m all right . . . have them setbacks real often!" He gasped as a stab of ; pain brought beads of perspiration to his forehead. With visible efi fort he stifled a groan. “I’ve got ; a map ... of this distric'; if I I give It to you will you j go away’" « The aviator shook ms head "I j couldn’t conscientiously go away and leave you here alone. The re--1 mcmbrance of how you look would j haunt me! You're too sick to reali ize that —you need medical attention." j Jem Brown was driven to desperation: “If you'll go away—at' | not come back for a month—lll 'give you the deeds to the Guayule . . an' on ’em 11l mark plain where the hist lode takes up again! I’ve knowed it for forty year . . . but I learnt long since that money don’t buy you nothin' but confusion . . . an’ I wasn't a-goin' to have folks a-spoilin' this mountain like they spoiled the rest! ” Then, as the aviator stared at him, the old man's eyes filled with tears: “There'll be plenty . . . iso's you can buy all the things i you've ever wanted. . . . But now that I've seen your machine and know that never, any more . . will there be a place where I. can get away ... I'd like for to have this last month .. . alone on Guayule, to say good-bye. . Then you can take It—" j "You'll do better than I expect If you live another week!" The aviator's voice was troubled per- ; plexed: "I really can't leave you; It wouldn't be decent!” Jem Brown dropped down on the pine branches and stared helplessly In front of him. For a second the narrow window framed a stretch ;of desert, paved in tawny gold, dotted with sage-brush: through it a camel train wound into the i settlement—and his mother was gone. j Followed, then, a shimmer of heat waves above shining metal I rails where great locomotives *• indered upon their scheduled ty. . . , Soon Jenny’s place ew her no more. With a feeble gesture of resigna- ■ tr>n Jem Brown turned toward the .‘ ranger: "I guess . . . maybe this is my signal!" he whispered. Progress had caught up wli.il him. » © McClure newspaper BmuUcate,

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