Jasper County Democrat, Volume 7, Number 2, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 16 April 1904 — The Blazed Trail. [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

The Blazed Trail.

By STEWART EDWARD WHITE

SYNOPSIS OF PREVIOUS CHAPTERS. Chapter I—Morrison A Daly, lumbermen on the Saganaw waters of Miohlgan, drive a hard bar aln with Radway, a contractor. II and lll—Harry Thorpe, having left hie dependent sister Helen, at service, tries for work at Morrison A Daly’s, falls and takes a Job at chorinr until he can go to Radway’s camp. IT—Thorpe at Raaway’s making lumber road. The men attempt basing. Thorpe puts on the gloves and knocks out the champion. V and Vl—Radway running behind owing to slack management. Thorpe a “swamper. Death of his chum, Paul. The men “chip in for the widow.” Radway goes home for Christmas, leaving Dyer, the scaler, In charge. YII and Vlll—Long delay waiting for roads to freeze. Thorpe hurt and sent to Sisters’ hospital. Radway fails. Thorpe out of work. IX—Thorpe demands pay of M. A D. for work done by Radway. The contract was illegal, and the firm have profited by the work done. M. AD. settle the account. X— Thorpe provides for Helen’s education and goes into the north woods to locate valuable tract. Makes a friend of Injun Charley and a Chicago boy tourist. Wallace Carpenter. XI and Xll—Wallace has capital and helps Thorpe buy land. Dyer, the old scaler for Radway, is out looking for land for M. A D. Thorpe goes to Detroit to head off his rivals' land purchase. XIH and XlV—Wallace sends telegraph order to Thorpe at the land office just in time to head off M. A D. in a $30,000 purchase. M. A D. offer to buy. Thorpe won’t sell. War declared. XV and XVl—Tim Shearer, former foreman for M. A D., hires with Thorpe. Thorpe takes forcible possession of a dock M. A D. have built gbutting bis new purchase. The rival firms agree'to work in harmony. XVII—M. A D. close a gate in the dam above Thorpe's logs. Thorpe puts out a sentinel with a Winchester. Mischief ends, but M. & D. bring two suitsaglnst Thorpe. XVIU, XIX. XXand XXl—Thorne has a poor cose in court, but he buys a government tract which M. A D. have robbed of timber, to play off against them. Wallace loses heavilv in speculation, and Thorpe's flpnj, pnts up $60,000 to save him. Five years pass, and Thorpe is bewitched by a dream girl. CHAPTER XVlll—Continued. Wallace Carpenter was not in town. Before the letter had followed him to his new address and the answer had returned a week had passed. Of course the money was gladly put at Thorpe’s disposal. The latter at once Interviewed his sister. “Helen,” he said, “I have made arrangements for some money. What would you like to do this year?” She raised-her head and looked at him with clear, bright gaze. If he could so easily raise the money, why had he not done so before? He knew how much she wanted it. Her happiness did not count. Only when his quixotic ideas of family honor were attacked did he bestir himself. “I am going to Uncle Amos’,” she replied distinctly. “What?” asked Thorpe Incredulously. For answer she pointed to a letter lying on the table. Thorpe took it and read: My Dear Niece—Both Mrs. Thorpe and myself more than rejoice that time and reflection have removed that. I must confess, natural prejudice which the unfortunate family affair, to which I will not allude, raised in your mind against us. As we said long ago, our home Is yours when you may wish to make It so. You state your present readiness to come Immediately. Unless you wire to the contrary we shall expect you next Tuesday evening on the 4:40 train. I shall be at the Central station myself to meet you. It your brother is now with you I should be pleased to see him also and will be most happy to give him a position with the firm. Aft, your uncle, AMOS THORPE. New York, June 6, ISS3. On finishing the last paragraph the reader crumpled the letter and threw It into the grate. “I am sorry that you did that, Helen," said he, “but I don’t blame you, and it can’t be helped. We won’t need to take advantage of his ‘kind offer* now/’ “I Intend to do so, however,” replied the girl coldly. “What do you mean?” “I mean,” she cried, “that I am sick of waiting on your good pleasure. I waited and slaved and stood unbearable things for two years. I did It cheerfully, and in return I don’t get a civil word, not a decent explanation, not even a—caress!” She fairly sobbed out the last word. “I can’t stand it any longer. I have tried and tried and tried, and then when I’ve come to you for the littlest word of encouragement you have told me I was young and ought to finish my education. You haven’t a cent when it is a question of what I want, but you raise money quick enough when yonr old family Is insulted. Isn’t it my family too? And then you blame me because, after

waiting in vain for two years for you to do something, I start out to do the best I can for myself. I’m not of age, but you’re not my guardian.” During this long speech Thorpe had stood motionless, growing paler and paler. Like most noble natures, when absolutely in the right he was incapable of defending himself against misunderstandings. “You know that is not true, Helen,” he replied, almost sternly. “It 1b true,” she asseverated, “and I’m through.” “It’s a little hard,” said Thorpe, passing his hand wearily before his eyes, "to work hard this way for years and then”— She laughed with a hard little note of scorn. “Helen,” said Thorpe, with new energy, “I forbid you to have anything to do with Amos Thorpe. I think he is a scoundrel and a sneak.” “I shall do as I please,” she replied, crossing her hands behind her. Thorpe’s eyes darkened. “We have talked this over a great many times,” he warned, “and you’ve always agreed with me. Remember, you owe something to the family.” “Most of the family seem to owe something.” she replied, with a flippant laugh. “I’m sure I didn’t choose the family. If I had I’d have picked out a better one.” “You may take your choice, Helen,” he said formally. “If you go into the household of Amos Thorpe, if you deliberately prefer your comfort to your honor, we will have nothing more In common.” They faced each other with the cool, deadly glance of the race, so similar in appearance, but so unlike in nature. "I, too, offer you a home, such as It is,” repeated the man. “Choose.” At the mention of the home for which means were so quickly forthcoming when Thorpe, not she, considered It needful, the girl's eyes flashed. She stooped and dragged violently from beneath the bed a flat steamer trunk, the lid of which she threw open. A dress lay on the bed. With a fine gesture she folded the garment and laid it in the bottom of the trunk. Then she knelt and without another glance at her brother standing rigid at the door began feverishly to arrange the folds. The choice was made. He turned and went out.

CHAPTER XIX. y.yilTll Thorpe there could be no |A| halfway measure. He saw that ■ ■ the rupture with his sister was final, and the thrust attacked him in one of his few unprotected points. At first the spring of his life seemed broken. He did not care for money, and at present disappointment had numbed his interest in the gaiiie. It seemed hardly worth the candle. Then in a few days he began to look about him mentally. Unconsciously the combative instinct was aroused. In lack of other object on which to expend itself Thorpe’s fighting spirit turned with energy to the subject of the lawsuit After his sister left the Renwlcks Thorpe himself went to Detroit, where he interviewed at once Northrop, the brilliant young lawyer whom the firm had engaged to defend its case. “I’m afraid we have no show,” he replied to Thorpe’s question. “You see, you fellows were on the wrong side of the fence in trying to enforce the law yourselves. Of course you may well Bay that justice was all on your side. That does not count. The only recourse recognized for injustice lies in the law courts. I’m afraid you are due to lose your case.” “Well,” said Thorpe, “they can’t prove much damage.” “I don’t expect that they will be able to procure a very heavy judgment,” replied Northrop. “The facts I shall be able to adduce will cut down damages. But the costs will be very heavy.” “Yes,” agreed Thorpe. “And,” then pursued Northrop, with a dry smile, “they practically own Sherman. You may be in for contempt of court—at their instigation. As I understand It, they are trying rather to Injure you than to get anything out of It themselves.” “That’s it,” nodded Thorpe. “In other words, It’s a case for compromise.” “Just what I wanted to get at,” said Thorpe, with satisfaction. “Now answer me a question. Suppose a man Injures government or state land by trespass. The lafld Is afterward bought by another party. Has the latter any claim for damage against the trespasser? Understand me, the purchaser bought after the trespass was committed.” “Certainly,” answered Northrop without hesitation, “provided suit is brought within six years of the time the trespass was committed.” “Good! Now, see here. These M. A D. people stole about a section of government pine up on that river, and I don’t believe they’ve ever bought In the land it stood on. In fact, I don’t believe they suspect that any one knows they’ve been stealing. How would it do If I were to buy that section at the land office and threaten to sue them for the value of the pine that originally stood on It?” The lawyer’s eyes glimmered behind the lease* hia b lucerne*.

“It would do very well indeed,” he replied, “but you’d have to prove they did the cutting, and you’ll have to pay experts to estimate the probable amount of the timber. How much, on a broad guess, would you estimate the timber to come to?” “There ought to be eight or ten millions,” guessed Thorpe after an instant’s silence, “worth in the stump anywhere from sixteen to twenty thousand dollars. It would cost me only eight hundred to boy it.” “Do so by all means. Get your documents and evidence all in shape and let me have them. I’ll see that the suit is discontinued then.” The next day Thorpe took the train north. By the time he had bought the sixteen forties constituting the section, searched out a dozen witnesses to the theft and spent a week with the Marquette expert in looking over the ground he had fallen into the swing of work again. His experience still ached, but dully. Only now be possessed no interests outside of those in the new country, no affections save the half protecting, good natured comradeship with Wallace, the mutual self restraint respect that subsisted between Tim Shearer and himself and the dumb, unreasoning dog liking he shared with Injun Charley. His eye became clearer and steadier, his methods more simple and direct The taciturnity <jf his mood redoubled In thickness. He was less charitable to failure on the part of subordinates. And the new firm on the Ossawinamakee prospered.

CHAPTER XX. EIYE years passed. In that time Thorpe had succeeded in cutting 100,000,000 feet of pine. The money received for this had all been turned back into the company’s funds. From a single camp of twentyfive men the concern had increased to slx large, well equipped communities »f 80 to 100 men apiece, using nearly 500 horses and hauling as far as eight or nine miles. Near the port stood a mammoth sawmill capable of taking care of 22,000,000 feet a year, about which a lumber town had sprung up. Besides its original holding the company had acquired about 150,000,000 more back near the headwaters of the Ossawinamakee. During the four years in which the Morrison & Daly company shared the stream with Thorpe the two firms lived In complete amity and understanding. Northrop had played his cards skillfully. The older capitalists had withdrawn suit. Afterward they kept scrupulously within their rights and saw to It that no more careless openings were left for Thorpe’s shrewdness. And as the younger man on his side never attempted to overstep his own rights the interests of the rival firms rarely clashed. As to the few disputes that did arise Thorpe found Mr. Daly singularly anxious to please. In the desire was no friendliness,, however. Thorpe was watchful for treachery and could hardly believe the affair finished when at the end of the fourth year the M. & D. transferred its operations to another stream a few miles east. “They’re altogether too confounded anxious to help us on that freight, Wallace,” said Thorpe, wrinkling his brow uneasily. “I don't like it. It isn’t natural.” Thorpe’s Camp One was celebrated in three states. Thorpe had set out to gather around him a band of good woodsmen. Except on a pinch he would employ no others. “I don’t care if I get in only 2,000 feet this winter, and if a boy does that,” he answered Shearer’s expostulations, “it’s got to be a good boy.” The result of his policy began to show even in the second year. Men were a little proud to say that they had put in a winter at “Thorpe’s One.” Those who had worked there during the first year were loyally enthusiastic. As they were authorities others perforce had to accept the dictum. There grew a desire among the better class to see what “Thorpe’s One” might be like. In the autumn Harry had more applicants than he knew w T hat to do with. Eighteen of the old men returned. He took

1 them all, but when it came to distribution three- found themselves assigned to one or the other of the new camps. And quietly the rumor gained that these three had shown the least willing spirit dnring the previous winter. Tim Shearer was foreman of Camp One, Scotty Parsons was drafted from the veterans to take charge of Two, Thorpe engaged two men known to Tim to boss Three and Four, but in selecting the “push” for Five he sought out John Radway and induced him to accept the commission. “You can do it, John,” said he, “and I know it. I want you to try, and If yon don’t make her go I’ll call it nobody’s fault but my own.” The result proved his sagacity. Radway was one of the best foremen in the outfit. He got more out of his men, he rose better to emergencies, and he accomplished more with the same resources than any of the others excepting Tim Shearer. As long as the work was done for some one else he was capable and efficient. Only when he was called upon to demand on his own account did the paralyzing shyness affect him.

But the one feature that did more to attract the very best element among woodsmen was Camp One. Old woodsmen will still tell you about it, with a longing reminiscent glimmer in the corners of their eyes as they recall its glories and the men who worked in it. To have “put in” a winter in Camp One was the mark of a master and the ambition of every raw recruit to the forest. But Camp One was a privilege. A man entered it only after having proved himself; he retrained in it only as long as his efficiency deserved the honor. Its members were invariably recruited from one of the other four camps, never from applicants who had not been In Thorpe’s employ. So Shearer was foreman of a picked crew. Probably no finer body of men was ever gathered at one camp. Some of them had the reputation of being the hardest citizens in three states; others were mild as turtledoves. They were all pioneers. They had the independence, the unabashed eye, the insubordination even, of the man who has drawn his intellectual and moral nourishment at the breast of a wild nature. They were afraid of nothing alive. From no one, were he chore boy or president, would they take a single word, with the exception always of Tim Shearer and Thorpe. And they were loyal. It was a point of honor with them to stay “until the last dog was hung.” He who deserted in the hour of need was not only a renegade. but a fool, for he thus earned a magnificent licking If ever he ran up against a member of the “Fighting Forty.” A band of soldiers were they, ready to attempt anything their commander ordered, and, it must be confessed, they were also somewhat on the order of a band of pirates. Marquette thought so each spring after the drive, when, hat tilted, they surged, swearing and shouting, down to Denny Hogan’s saloon. Denny bad to buy new fixtures when they went away, but it was worth it. Proud! It was no name for It. Boast! The fame of Camp One spread abroad over the land. Some people thought Camp One must be a sort of hellhole of roaring, fighting devils. Others sighed and made rapid calculations of the number of logs they could put in if only they could get hold of help like that.

Thorpe himself, of course, made his headquarters at Camp One. During j the five years he had never crossed the strate of Mackinaw. The rupture with 1 his sister had made repugnant to him all the southern country. All winter j long he was more than busy at his logging. Summers he spent at the mill. I Occasionally he visited Marquette, but always on business. He was happy because he was too busy to be anything else. The insistent need of success which he had created for himself absorbed all other sentiments. He demanded It of others rigorously. He could do no less than demand it of himself. The chief end of any man, as he saw it, was to do well and successfully what his life found ready. (TO BE CONTINUED.)

“Helen,” said Thorpe, with new energy.