Evening Republican, Volume 16, Number 98, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 23 April 1912 — Page 2

BYNOPBI3. Enid Maitland, a frank, free and unspoiled young Philadelphia girl. Is taken to the Colorado mountains by her uncle, Robert Maitland. James Armstrong, Maitland's protege, falls in love with her. CHAPTER ll.—(Continued). "And by what right did you take that one?" haughtily demanded the outraged young woman, looking at him beneath level brows while the color slowly receded from her face. She had never been kissed by a man other than a blood relation in her life—remember, suspicious reader, that she was from Philadelphia,—and she resented this sudden and unauthorized caress with every atom and instinct of her still somewhat conventional being. 7 "But aren’t you half way engaged to me?” he in Justification, seeing the unwonted seriousness with which she had received his impudent advance. “Didn’t you agree to give me a chance?” "I did Bay that I liked you very much.” she admitted, "no man better, and that I thought, that you might—’ "Well, then—” he began. But she would not be Interrupted. ‘T did not mean that you should enjoy all the privileges of a conquest before you had won me. I will thank you not to do that again, sir.” “It seems to have had a very different effect upon you than it does upon me,” replied the man coolly. "I loved you before, but now, since I have kissed you, I worship you.” “It hasn’t affected me that way,” retorted the girl promptly, her face still frowning and indignant., “Not at all, and —” “Forgive me, Enid,” pleaded the other. “I just couldn’t help It. You were so beautiful I had to. I took the chance. You are not accustomed to our ways.” • “Is this your habit in your love affairs?” asked the girl swiftly and not without a spice of feminine malice. “I never had any love affair before,” he replied with a ready masculine mendacity, “at least none worth mentioning. But you see this is the west; we have gained what we have by demanding every inch that nature offers, and then claiming the all. That’s the way we play the game out here and that’s the way we win.” “But I have not yet learned to play the ‘game,’ as you call it, by any such rules,” returned the young woman determinedly, “and It is not the way to win me if I am the stake.” ‘What is the way?” asked the man anxiously. “Show me and I’ll take it ” ilO matter what its’difficulty.” “Ah, for me to point out the way would be to play traitor to myself,” she answered, relenting and relaxing a little before his devoted wooing. “YOU must find it without assistance. I can only tell you one thing.” “And what is that?” “You do not advance toward the goal by such actions as those of a moment since.” “Look here,” said the other suddenly. “I am not ashamed of what I did, and I’m not going to pretend that I am, either.” “You ought to be,” severely. “Well, maybe so, but I’m not; I couldn’t help it any more than I could help loving you the minute I saw you. Put yourself in my place.” - “But I am not in your place, and I can’t put myself there. Ido not wish to. If it be true, as you say, that you have grown to —care so much for me and so quickly—” “If it be true?” came the sharp Interruption ~as the man bent toward her, fairly devouring her with his bold, ardent gaze. “Well, since it is true,” she admited under the compulsion of his protest. ‘That farfrt is the only possible excuse for your action.” “You find some justification for me, .then-?” s “No, only a possibility, but whether It be true or not, I do not feel that way—yet.” There was a saving grace in that last word, which gave him a little heart. He would have spoken, but she suffered no interruption, saying: 'T have been wooed before, but—” "True, unless the human race has become suddenly blind,” he said softly under hi* breath. “But never In such ungentle ways.' "I suppose you have never run up against a real red-blooded man like me before.”

“If red-blooded be evidenced mainly by lairing of self control, perhaps I have oot. Tat there are men that I have met that would not need to apologize for their qualities even to you, Mr. James Armstrong.” "Don't say that Evidently I make but poor progress in my wooing. Never have I met with a woman quite tike you"—and In that Indeed lay gome of her charm, and she might have replied in exactly the same language and with exactly the same gteanltnt to him—"l am no longer a ■ boyfey nlaat be fifteen years older thirty-five "

The difference between their years was not quite so great as he declared, but womanlike the girl let the statement pass unchallenged. “And I wouldn’t insult your intelligence by saying you are the only woman that I have ever made love to, but, there is a vast difference between making love to a woman and loving one. I have Just found that out for the first time. I marvel at the past, and I am ashamed of It,T>ut I thank God that I have been saved for this opportunity. I want to win you, and i am going to do it, too. In many things I don’t match up with- the people with whom you train. I was born out here, and I’ve made myself. There are things that have happened in the making that I am not especially proud of, and I am not at all satisfied with the results, especially since I have met you. The better I know you the less pleased I am with Jim Armstrong, but there are possibilities in me, I rather believe, and with you for inspiration, God!” —the man flung out his hand with a fine gesture of determination. “They say that the east and west don’t naturally mingle, but it’s a lie; you and I can beat the world.” The woman thrilled to his gallant wooing. Any woman would have done so; some oP them would have lost their heads, but Enid Maitland was an exceedingly cool young person, for she was not quite swept off her feet, and did not quite lose her balance. “I like to hear you say things like that,” she answered. “Nobody quite like you has ever made love to me, and certainly not in your way, and that’s the reason I have given you a half way promise to think about it. I was sorry that you could not be with us on this adventure, but now I am rather glad, especially if the even temper of my way is to be interrupted by anything like the outburst of a few minutes since.” “I am glad, too,” admitted the man “For I declare I couldn’t help it. If I have to be with you either you have got to be mine or else you would have to decide that it could never be, and then I’d go off and fight it out.” “Leave me to myself,” said the girl earnestly “for a little while; it’s best so; 1 would not take the finest, noblest man on earth—” > “And I am not that.” “Unlesß I loved him. There is something attractive about your personality; { don’t know in my heart whether it Is that, or —” “Good,” said the man, as she hesitated. “That’s enough.” He gathered up the reins and whirled his horse suddenly In the road. “I am going back. I’ll wait for your return to Denver, and then —”

/“That’s the girl. She stretched out her hand to him, leaning backward. If he had been a different kind of a man he would have kissed it; as it was he took it in his own hand and almost crushed it with a fierce grip. “We’ll shake on that, little girl,” he said, and then without a backward glance he put spurs to his horse and galloped furiously down the road. No, she decided then and there, sfie did not love him, not yet. Whether she ever would she could not tell. And yet she was half bound to him. The recollection of his kiss was not altogether a pleasant memory; he had not done himself any good by that bold assault upon her modesty, that reckless attempt to rifle the treasure of her Ups. No man had ever really touched her heart, although many had ) engaged her interest Her experience therefore was not definitive or conclusive. If she had truly loved James Armstrong, in spite of all that she might have said, she would have thrilled to the remembrance of that wild caress. The chances, therefore, were somewhat heavily against him that morning as he rode down the trail alone. Hts experiences in love affairs were much greater than hers. She was by no means the first woman he had kissed —remember, suspicious reader, that he was not from Philadelphia — hers were not the first ears into which he had poured passionate protestations. He was neither better nor worse than mpst men, perhaps he fairly enough represented the average; but surely fats bad something better in store for such a superb woman. A girl of such attainments and such Infinite possibilities, she most mate higher than with the average man. Perhaps there was a subconsciousness of this In her mind as she silently waited to be overtaken by the rest of the party.

There were curious , glances and strange speculations in that little company as they saw her sitting her horse alone. A few moments before James Armstrong had passed them at a gallop, be had waved his hand ap' he dashed by and had smiled at them, hope giving him a certain assurance, although his confidence was scarcely warranted by the facts, v His demeanor was sot In consonance Nfth Enid's somewhat grave and some-1

The Chalice of Courage

cJ&P Jim

By Cyrus Townsend Brady

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what troubled "present aspect. She threw oft her preoccupation Instantly and easily, however, and Joined readily enough In the merry conversation of,the way. Mr. Robert Maitland, as Armstrong has said, had known him from a boy. There were things in his career of which Maitland did hot . and could, not approve, but they were of the past, he reflected, and Armstrong was after all a pretty good sort. Mr. Maitland’s standards were not at all those of his. Philadelphia .brother, but they were very high. His experiences of men had been different; he thought that Armstrong, having certainly by this time reached years of discretion, could be safely entrusted with the precious treasure of the young girl who had been committed to his care, and for whom his affection grew as his knowledge of and acquaintanceship with her increased. As for Mrs. Maitland and the two girls and the youngster, they were Armstrong’s devoted friends. They knew nothing about his past, Indeed there were things in it of which Maitland himself was ignorant, and which had they been known to him might have caused him to withhold even his tentative acquiescence in the possibilities. Most of these things were known to old Klrkby, who with masterly skill, amusing nonchalance and amazing profanity, albeit most of it under his breath lest be shock the ladieß, tooled along the four nervous, excited bronchos that drew the big supply wagon. Klrkby was Maitland’s oldest and most valued friend.. He had been the latter’s deputy sheriff, he had been a cowboy and a lumberman, a mighty hunter and a successful miner, and now, although he had acquired a reasonable competence, and had a nice little wife and a pleasant home in the mountain village at the entrance to the canon, he drove stage for pleasure rather than for profit He had given over his daily twenty-five mile Jaunt from Morrison to Troutdale to other hands&for a short space that be might spend a little time with bis old friend and the family who were all greatly attached to blm on this outing. BnM Maitland, a girl of a kind that Klrkby had never seen before, had won the old man’s heart during the weeks spent on the Maitland ranch. He had grown fond of her, and he did cot think that Mr. James Armstrong merited that which he evidently so overwhelmingly desired. Klrkby was well along in years, bat be was quite capable of playing a man's game for an that, and he Intended to play it in this Instance. Nobody scanned Enid Maitland’s face more closely than he, sitting humped up on the front seat of the wagon, one foot oh the high break, his head sunk almost to the level of hts

She Actually Fried the Bacon Herself.

knee, his long whip in his hand, his keen and somewhat fierce brown eyes taking in every detail of what was going on about him. Indeed there was but little that came before him that old Kirkby did not see. CHAPTER HI. The Story and the Letters. Imagine, If you please, the forest primeval; yes, the murmuring pines and the hemlocks of the poem as well, by the-side of a rapidly rushing mountain torrent fed by the eternal snows of the lofty peaks of the great range. A level stretch of grassy land where a mountain brook Joined the creek was dotted with clumps of pines and great boulders rolled down from the everlasting hills —half an acre of open clearing. On the opposite side of the brook the canon wall rose almost sheer for perhaps five hundred feet, ending in jagged, needle-edged pinnacles, of rock, sharp, picturesque and beautiful. A thousand feet above ran the timber line, and four thousand feet above that the crest of the greatest peak In the main range. The white tents of the little encampment which had "gleamed so brightly in the clear air and radiant sunshine of Colorado, now stood dim and ghostlike In the red reflection of a huge campfire. It was the evening of the first day in the wilderness. For two days since leaving the wagon, the Maitland party with Its long train of burros , heavily ‘ packed, its horsemen and the steady plodders on foot, had advanced Into unexplored and almost Inaccessible retreats of the mountains —into the primitive Indeed ! In this delightful spot they had pitched their tents and the permanent camp had been made. Wood was abundant, the water at hand was as cold as ice, as clear as crystal and as soft as milk. There was pasturage for the horses and burros on the’ other side of the mountain brook. The whole | place was a little amphitheater which humanity occupied perhaps the first time since creation. Unpacking the burros, setting Up the tents, making the camp, building the fire, had .used up the late remainder of the day which was theirs when they had arrived. Opportunity would come tomorrow to explore the country, to climb the r&hge, to try the stream that tumbled down a succession of waterfalls to the right of the camp and roared and rushed merrily around Its feet until, swelled by the volume of the brook, it lost Itself In tree-dad depths far beneath. Tonight rest after labor, tomorrow play after rest. The evening meal was over. Enid could not help think with what scorn and oontempt her father would have regarded the menu, how his gorge would have rises—hers, too, for that

matter! —had it been placed before him on the old colonial mahogany of, the dining-room in Philadelphia. But up there in the wilds she had eaten the coarse homely fare with the zest and relish of the most seasoned ranger of the hills. Anxious .to be of service, she had burned her hands and smoked her hair and scorched her face by usurping the functions of the young ranchman who had been brought along as cook, and had actually fried the bacon herself! Imagine a goddess with a frying pan! The black thick coffee and the condensed milk, drunk from the granite ware cup, had a more delicious aroma and a more delightful taste than the finest Mocha and Java in the daintiest porcelain of France. Optimum condimentum. The girl was frankly ravenously hungry, the air, the altitude, the exertion, the excitement made her able to eat anything and enjoy It. She was gloriously beautiful, too; even her brief experience in the west had brought back the missing roses to “her cheek, and had banished the bistre circles from beneath her eyes. Robert Maitland, lazily reclining propped up against a boulder, his feet to the fire, smoking an old pipe that would have given his brother the horrors, looked with approving complacency upon her, confident and satisfied that his prescription was working well. Nor was he the only one who looked at her that way. Marion and Emma, his two daughters, worshipped their handsome Philadelphia cousin and they sat one on either side of her on the great log lying between the tents and the fire. Even Bob Junior cqndescended to give her approving glances. The whole camp was at her feet. Mrs. Maitland had been greatly taken by her young niece. Kirkby made no secret of his devotion, Arthur Bradshaw and Henry Philips, each a “tenderfoot” of the extremist character, friends of business connections in the east, who were spending their vacation with Maitland, shared in the general devotion; to say nothing of George the cook and Pete, the packer and horse wrangler. , Philips, who was an old acquaintance of Enid’s, had tried his luck, with ■ her back east and had sense enough to accept as final his failure. Bradshaw was a solemn young man without that keen sense ot humor which was characteristic of the west. The others were suitably dressed for adventure, for Bradshaw’s idea of an appropriate costume distinguished chiefly by long green felt puttees which swathed his huge calves and excited euriousr inquiry “dfid ribald' comment from the surprised denizens of each mountain hamlet through which they had passed, to all of which Bradshaw remained serenely oblivious. The young man, who does enter espe-

“It Was in These Very Mountains,” Said Robert Maitland.

daily Into this tale, was a vestryman of the church in his borne in the suburbs of Philadelphia. His piety had been put to a severe strain in the mountains. That day everybody had to work on the trail—everybody wanted to for that matter. The hardest labor consisted in the driving of the burro*. Unfortunately there was no good and trained leader among them through an unavoidable mistake, and the campers had great difficulty in keeping the burros on the trail. To Arthur Bradshaw had been allotted the most obstinate, cross-grained and determined of the unruly band, and old Kirkby and George paid particular attention to instructing him in the gentle art of manipulating him over the rocky mountain trail. “Wall,” said Kirkby with his somewhat languid, drawling, nasal voice, “that there burro’s like a ship w’lch I often seed ’em w’en I was a lrid down east afore I come out to God’s country. Nature has penrlded ’em with a kftd of a helium. I remember If ypu wasted the boat to go to jtiffc right <3s ‘ ~~ 5

you shoved the helium over to the left Sta’boad an’ port was the terms as I recollects ’em. It’s jest the same with burros, you takes ’em by the -tiUer, that’s by the tail, git a good tight twist on it an’ es you want him to head to the right, slew his stem sheets around to the left, an’ you got to be keerful you don’t git no kick back w’ich es it lands on you is worse ’n the ree-coil of a mule.” Arthur faithfully followed directions, narrowly escaping the outraged brute’s small but sharp pointed heels on occasion. His efforts not being productive of much success, finally in his despair he resorted to brute strength; he would pick the little animal up bodily, pack and all —he was a man of powerful physique—and swing him around until his head pointed in the right direction; then with a prayer that the burro would keep it there for a few rods anyway, he would set him down and start him all over again. The process oft repeated became ihonotoiyjus after awhile. Arthur was a slow ‘thinking man, deliberate in aotion; he stood it as long as he possibly could. Kirkby, who rode one horse and led two others, and therefore was exempt from burro driving, observed him with great Interest. He and Bradshaw had strayed way behind the rest of the party. At last Arthur’s resistance, patience and piety, strained to the breaking point, gave way suddenly. Primitive Instincts rose to the surface and overwhelmed him like a flood. —lie dw liberately sat down on a fallen tree by the side of a trail, the burro halting obediently, turned and faced him with hanging .head, apparently conscious that he merited the disapprobation that was being heaped upon him, for from the desperate tenderfoot there burst forth so amazing, so fluent, bo comprehensive a torrent of assorted profanity, that even the old past master in objuration was 'astonished and bewildered. Where did Bradßhaw, mild and inoffensive, get it? His proficiency would have appalled his rector and amazed his set low vestrymen. Not the Jackdaw ot Rheims himself was so cursed as that little burro. Kirkffy sat on hlB horse in fits of silent laughter until the tears ran down his cheek, the only outward and visible expression of his mirth. Arthur only stopped when he had thoroughly emptied himself, possibly of an accumulation of years of repression.

"Wall," said Klrkby, “you sure do overmatch any. one I ever heard w’en It comes to cursin’; w’y, you could gimme cards an' spades an’ beat me, an’ I was thought to. have some gift that-a-way In the old days.” “I didn’t begin to exhaust myself,** answered Bradshaw,. Bhortly, “and what. I did say didn’t equal the situation. I’m* going home." "I wouldn’t do that," urged ~td man. “Here, you take the he i* I’ll tackle the burro.” “Gladly,” said Arthur. “1 would rather ride an elephant and drive a herd of them than waste another minute on this infernal little mule.” The story was too good to keep, and around the camp fire that night Kirkby drawled It forth. There was a freedom and easiness of intercourse in the camp, which was natural enough. Cook, teamster, driver, host, guest, men, women, children, and I had almost said burros, stood on the same level. They all ate and lived together. The higher up the mountain range you go, the deeper Into the wilderness you plunge, the further away from the 'conventional you draw, the more homogeneous becomes society and the less obvious are the irrational and unscientific distinctions of the lowlands. The guinea stamp fades and the man and the woman are pure gold or base metal Inherently and not by any artificial standard. /' George, the cattle man, who cooked, and Pete, the horse wrangler, who assisted Klrkby in looking after the stock, enjoyed the episode uproariously, and would fain have had the exact language repeated to them, but here Robert Maitland demurred, much to Arthur’s relief, for he was thoroughly humiliated by the whole performance. It was very pleasant lounging around the camp fire and one good story easily led to another. "It was in these very mountains," said Robert Maitltnd, at last, when hie turn came, “that there happened one of the strangest and most terrible *6*' ventures that I ever heard of. I have pretty much forgotten the lay of the land, but I think It wasn’t very tor from here that there is one of the most stupendous canons through the range; nobody ever goes there ; I don’t suppose anybody has ever been there since. It must-have been at least five yean ago that it all happened.” (TO BE CONTINUED.) “There are people who do not know how to waste their time alone, and hence become the scourge of busy; people.”—De Bon aid