Jasper County Democrat, Volume 7, Number 3, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 23 April 1904 — The Blazed Trail [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

The Blazed Trail

By STEWART EDWARD WHITE

SYNOPSIS OF PREVIOUS CHAPTERS. Chapteb I—Morrison A Daly, lumbermen on the Saganaw waters of Michigan, drive a hard bargain with Radway. a contractor. II and Ill—Harry Thorpe, having left his dependent sister Helen, at service, tries for work at IJorrison A Daly's, fails aud takes a job at choring until he can go to Radway’s camp. IV—Thorpe at Radway’s making lumber road. The men uttempt hazing. 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. VII aud Fill—Long delay waiting for roads to freeze. Thorpe hurt and sent to Sisters' hospital. Radway fails Thorpe out of work. IX—Thorpe demauds pay of M. A D. for work done by Raikway. 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 nnd 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. XIII and XlV—Wallace sends telegraph order to Thorpe at the land office jus't in time to head off M. A D. in a $30,000 purchase. M. A D. offer to buy. Thorne 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 abutting his 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. A D. bring two suitsaginst Thorpe. XVIU, XIX. XXand XXl—Thorpe has a poor case in court, but he buys a government tract which M. A D. Live robbed of timber, to »la.v off against them. Wallace loses heavily in speculation, and Thorpe's firm puts up $60,000 to save him. Five years pass, and Thorpe is bewitched by a dream girl. CHAPTER XX—Continued. Success, success, success. Nothing could be of more importance. Its attainment argued a man’s efficiency in the scheme of things. Anything that interfered with it—personal comfort, inclination, affection, desire, love of ease, individual liking—was bad. Thorpe cared for just three people, and none of them happened to clash with his machine. They were Wallace Carpenter, little Phil and Injun Charley. Wallace was always personally agreeable to Thorpe. Latterly, since the erection of the mill, he had developed unexpected acumen in the disposal of the season’s cut to wholesale dealers in Chicago. Thereafter he was often in the woods both for pleasure and to get( his partner’s Ideas on what the firm would have to offer. The entire responsibility of the city end of the business \?as in bis hands. Injun Charley continued to hunt and trap in the country round about. Once or twice a month the lumberman would snowshoe down to the little cabin at the forks. Entering, he would nod briefly and seat himself on a cracker box. “How do, Charley?” said he. “How do?” replied Charley. They filled pipes and smoked. At rare intervals one of them made a remark tersely: “Catch um beaver las’ week,” remarked Charley. “Good haul.” commented Thorpe. Or: “I saw a mink track by the big bowlder,” offered Tlitfrpe. “H'm!” responded Charley in a long drawn falsetto whine. Yet somehow the men came to know each other better nnd better, and each felt that in an emergency he could defend on the other to the uttermost in spite of the difference in race. As for Philip, he was like some strange, shy animal, retaining all its wild instincts, but led by affection to become domestic. He drew the water, cut the wood—none better. In the evening he played atrociously his violin—none worse—binding his great white brow forward with the wolf glare in his eyes, swaying his shoulders with a fierce delight in the subtle dissonances of the horrible tunes he played. And often he went into the forest and gazed wondering at occult things. Above all he worshiped Thorpe. And In turn the lumberman accorded him a good natural affection. Financially the company was rated high and yet was heavily in debt This condition of affairs by no means constitutes an anomaly in the lumbering business. The profits of the first five years had been immediately reinvested in the business. Thorpe intended to establish in a few years more a big plant which would be returning benefices in proportion not only to the capital originally invested, but also in ratio to the energy. time and genius he hqd himself expended.

Every autumn the company foand Itself suddenly in easy circumstances. At any moment that Thorpe had chosen to be content with the progress made he could have, so to speak, declared dividends with his partner. Instead of undertaking more improvements, for part of which he borrowed some money, he could have divided the profits of the season’s cut. But this be was not yet ready to do. He had established’flve more he had acquired over 150,000,000 more of timber lying contiguous to his own; he bad bnilt and equipped a modern high efficiency mill; he had constructed a harbor breakwater and the necessary booms; he had bought a tug; built a boarding bouse. All this cost money. He wished now to construct a logging railroad. Then he promised) himself and Wallace that they would be ready to commence paying operations. He had made all the estimates and even the preliminary survey. He was therefore the more grievously disap-

pointed when Wallace Carpenter made it impossible for him to do so. It was about the middle of July. He was sitting back idly in the clean painted mill office with the big square desk and the three chairs. Through the door he could see Collins perched on a high stool before the shelf-like desk. From the open window came the clear, musical note of the circular saw, the fresh, aromatic smell of new lumber, the bracing air from Superior sparkling in the offing. He felt tired. In rare moments such as these, when the muscles of his striving relaxed, his mind turned to the past. Old sorrows rose before him and looked at him with their sad eyes. He wondered where his sister was. She would be twentytwo years old now. A tenderness, haunting, tearful, invaded his heart. At such moments the hard shell of his rough woods life seemed to rend apart. He longed with a great longing for sympathy, for love. The outer door, beyond the cage behind which Collins and his shelf desk were placed, flew open. Thorpe heard a brief greeting, and Wallace Carpenter stood before him. “Why, Wallace, I didn’t know you were coming!” began Thorpe, and stopped. The boy. usually so fresh and happily buoyant, looked ten years older. Wrinkles had gathered between his eyes. “Why, what’s the matter?” cried Thorpe. He rose and swiftly shut the door into the outer office. Wallace seated himself mechanically. “Everything! Everything!” he said in despair. “I’ve been a fool. I’ve been, blind.” So Litter was his tone that Thorpe was startled. The lumberman sat down on the other side of the desk. “That ’ll do, Wallace,” he said sharply. “Tell me briefly what is the matter.” “I’ve been speculating!” burst out the hoy. “Ah!” said his partner. “I bought on a margin. There came a slump. I met the margins because I ,am sure there will be a rally, but now all my fortune is in the thing. I’m going to be penniless. I’ll lose it all.” “Ah!” said Thorpe. “And the name of Carpenter is so old established, so honorable!” cried the unhappy boy. “And my sister”’ “Easy!” warned Thorpe. “Being penniless isn’t the worst thing that can happen to a man.” “No, but I am in debt,” went on the boy more calmly. “I have given notes. When they come due I’m a goner.” “How much?” asked Thorpe laconically. “Thirty thousand dollars.” “Well, you have that amount in this firm.” “What do you mean?” “If you want it you can have it” Wallace considered a moment. “That would leave me without a cent,” he replied. “But it would save your commercial honor.” “Harry,” cried Wallace suddenly, “couldn’t this firm go on my note for

WdUacc Carpenter stood before him. thirty thousand more? Its credit is good, and that amount would save my margins.” ) “You are partner,” replied Thorpe. “Your signature is as good as mine in this firm.” “But you know I wouldn’t do it without your consent,” replied Wallace reproachfully. “Oh, Harry!” cried the boy. “When you needed the amount I let you have it!” Thorpe smiled. “Y<ju know you can have it if ifs to be had, Wallace. I wasn’t hesitating on that account. I was merely trying to figure out where we can raise such a sum as $60,000. We haven’t got it” “But you’ll never have to pay it” a»sured Wallace eagerly. “If I can save my margins I’ll be all right" “A man has to figure on paying whatever he puts his signature to,” asserted Thorpe. “I can give you our npte

the end of a year. Then I’ll hußtle in enough timber to make np the amount It means we don’t get our railroad; that’s all.” “I knew you'd help me out. Now it’s all right,” said .Wallace, with a relieved air. Thorpe Bhook his head. He was already trying to figure how to increase his cut to 30,000,000 feet. “I’ll do it”.be muttered to himself after Wallace had gone out to visit the mill. “I’ve been demanding success of others for a good many years; now I’ll demand it of myself.”

CHAPTER XXI. moment had struck for the j I woman. Thorpe did not know I it but it was true. A solitary, brooding life in the midst of grand surroundings; an active, strenuous life among great responsibilities; a starved, hungry life of the affections whence even the sister had withdrawn her love—all these had worked unobtrusively toward the formation of a single psychological condition. Such a moment comes to every man. Then are happiness and misery beside which the mere struggle to dominate men becomes trivial, the petty striving with the forces of nature a little thing, and the woman he at that time meets is more than a woman; she is the best of that man made visible. Thorpe found himself for the first time filled with Alie spirit of restlessness. His customary iron evenness of temper was gone, so that he wandered quickly from one detail of his work to another without seeming to penetrate below the surface need of any one task. But a week before he had felt himself absorbed in the component parts of his enterprise. Now he was outside of it. Thorpe took this state of mind much to heart and combated it. Invariably he held himself to his task. By an effort, a tremendous effort, he succeeded in doing so. The effort left him limp. He found himself often standing or moving gently, his eyes staring sightless. his will chained so softly nnd yet so i firmly that he felt ho strength and hardly the desire to break from the dream that lulled him. Then be was conscious of the physical warmth of the sun, the faint sweet wood smells, the soothing cares of the breeze, the sleepy cicada-like note of the pine creeper. He wanted nothing so much as to sit on the pine needles there in the golden flood of radiance and dream dream on vaguely, comfortably, sweetly. “Lord, Lord!” he cried impatiently. “What’s coming to me? I must be a little off my feed!” And he hurried rapidly to his duties. After an hour of the hardest concentration he had ever been required to bestow on a trivial subject he again unconsciously sank by degrees into the old apathy. “Glad it isn’t the busy season!” he commented to himself. ‘‘Here, I must quit this! Guess it’s the warm weather. I’ll get down to the mill for a day or two.” There he found himself incapable of even the most petty routine work. He sat at his desk at 8 o’clock and began the perusal of a sheaf of letters. The first three he read carefully, the following two rather hurriedly, of the next one he seized only the salient and essential points, the seventh and eighth he skimmed, the remainder of the bundle he thrust aside in uncontrollable impatience. Next day he returned to the woods. The incident of the letters had aroused to the full his old fighting spirit, before which no mere instincts could stand. Once more his mental process became clear and incisive, his commands direct and to the point To ail outward appearance Thorpe was as before. He opened Camp One, and the Fighting Forty came back from distant drinking joints. This was in early September. That ablebodled and devoted band of men was on band when needed. Shearer in some subtle manner of his own had let them feel that this year meant 30,000,000 or “bust" They tightened their leather belts and stood ready for command. After much discussion with Shearer the young man decided to take out the logs from

"eleven” by driving them down French creek. To this end a gang was put to clearing the creek bed. It was a tremendous job. Centuries of forest life had choked the little stream nearly to the level of , Its banks. Okl snags and stumps lay imbedded in the ooze; decayed trunks, moss grown, blocked the current; leaning tamaracks, fallen timber, tangled vines, dense thickets, gave to its course more the appearance of a tropical jungle than of a north country brook bed. All these things had to be removed one by one and either piled to one side or burned. In the end, however, it would pay. French creek was not a large stream, but it could be driven during the time of the spring freshets. Each night the men returned in the beautiful dreamlike twilight to the camp. There they sat after eating, smoking their pipes in the open air. Much of the time they sang, while Phil, crouching wolf-like over iris violin, rasped out an accompaniment Of dissonances. The men’s voices lent themselves well to the weird minor strains of the chnnteys. These times, when the men sang and the night wind rose and died In the hemlock tops, were Thorpe’s worst moments. His soul, tired with the day’s iron struggle, fell to brooding. He wanted something, he knew not what. The men were singing in a mighty chorus, swaying their heads in unison and bringing out with a roar the emphatic words of the crude ditties written by some genius from their own ranks. “Comf all ye sons of freedom throughout old Michigan, Come all ye gallant lumbermen, list to a shanty man. On the banks of the Muskegon, where tha , rapid waters flow. Oh, we’ll range the wild woods o’er while a-lumbering we go.” Here was the bold unabashed front of the pioneer, here was absolute certainty in the superiority of his calling, absolute scorn of all others. Thorpe passed his hand across his brow. The same spirit was once fully and freely his. “The music of our burnished ax shall make the woods resound, And many a lofty ancient pine will tumble to the ground. At right around our shanty fire we’ll sing while rude winds blow. Oh, we’ll range the wild woods o’er while a-lumberln’ we go!” That was what he was here for. Things were going right. It would be pitiful to fail merely on account of this idiotic lassitude, this unmanly weakness, this boyish impatience and desire for play. He a woodsman! He a fellow with these big strong men! A single voice, clear and high, struck Into a quick measure: "I am a Jolly shanty boy, As you will soon discover; To all the dodges I am fly, A hustling pine wood rover. A peavey hook it is my pride; An ax I well can handle: To fell a tree or punch a bull Get rattling Danny Randall.” And then, with a rattle and crash, the whole Fighting Forty shrieked out the chorus: “Bung yer eye! Bung yer eye!” Active, alert, prepared for any emergency that might arise; hearty, ready for everything, from punching bulls to felling trees—that was something like! Thorpe despised himself. The song went on: "I love a girl In Saginaw; She lives with her mother. I defy all Michigan To find such another. She’s tall and slim: her hair is red; Her face is plump and pretty. She’s my daisy Sunday best-day girl, And her front name stands for Kitty.” And again, as before, the Fighting Forty howled truculently: “Bung yer eye! Bung yer eye!” (TO BB CONTINUED.)