Jasper County Democrat, Volume 21, Number 90, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 8 February 1919 — North of Fifty-Three [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

North of Fifty-Three

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BYNOPBIB. 'I ~s CHAPTER I—The story opens In th« V town of Gr4nvllle, Ontario, where Mias (Hazel Weir is employed as a stenographer In the office of Harrington and Bush. She la engaged to Jack Barrow, a young real estate agent, and the wedding day is set. TWhlle walking with him one Sunday they sneet Mr. Bush, Hazel’s employer, who for 'the first time seems to notice her at* tractiveness. Shortly afterward, at his request, she becomes his private stenog'rapher. After three months Mr. Bush igiroposes marriage, which Hazel declines, •rad after a stormy scene In the office Hazel leaves her employment, Mr. JBush warning her he would make her sorry for refusing him. CHAPTER ll—Bush makes an effort, by a gift of flowers, to compromise Hazel In The minds of her friends. She returns [them. The next day Bush Is thrown from Ills horse and fatally hurt. He sends for (Hazel, who refuses to see him before he (dies. Three days afterward It is announced that he left a legacy of $5,000 to 'Hazel, “In reparation for any wrong I rmay have done her." Hazel recognizes at [once what construction will be put upon The words. Bush had his revenge. I CHAPTER lll—Jack Barrow, In a fit T>f jealous rage, demands from Hazel an explanation of Bush's action. Hazel s pride 'ls hurt, and she refuses. The engage'ment is broken and Hazel determines to leave Granville. She sees an advertlse'ment for a school teacher at Cariboo (Meadows. British Columbia, and secures The situation. They supported the unconscious man Through the doorway; the young fellow resumed his seat on the box, also Ills pipe filling. “Roarin’ Bill’s goin’ to get himself killed one uh these days.” Hazel started, but It was only Jim Briggs In the doorway beside her. “I guess you ain’t much used to seeiln’ that sort of exhibition where you jcome from, Miss Weir,” Briggs’ wife [put In over his shoulder. “My land, (it’s disgustin’—men flghtin’ In the (street where everybody can see ’em. rThank goodness, it don’t happen very (often. 'Specially when Bill Wagstaff lain’t. around. You ain’t shocked, are [you, honey?” ! . "Why, I didn’t have time to be •hocked,” Hazel laughed. “It was j &one so quickly.” “If them fellers would leave Bill alone,” Briggs remarked, “there -wouldn't be no fight. Eut he goes off like a hair-trigger gun, and he’d scrap a dozen quick as one. I’m lookin’ to see his finish one uh these days.” “What a name!” Hazel observed, caught by the appellation Briggs had first used. “Is that Roaring Bill over There?” “That’s him —Roarin’ Bill Wagstaff,” Briggs answered. “If he takes a few | drinks, you’ll find out tonight how he got the name. Sings—just like a bull moose—hear him all over town. Probably whip two or three men before tnornln’.” . i

His spouse calling him at - that moment, Briggs detniled no more information about Roaring Bill. And Hazel eat looking across the way with considerable interest at the specimen of a type which hitherto she had encountered in the pages of fiction —a fighting man, what the West called a “bad actor.” She had, however, no wish lor closer study of that particular type. The men of her world had been altogether different, and the few fron tier specimens she hnd met at the Briggs’ dinner ta,ble had not Impressed her with anything except their ahyness and manifest awkwardness in ter presence. The West itself appealed to her, Its bigness, its nearness to the absolutely primeval, but not the people she had so far met. And se ahe looked at Roaring Bill Wagstaff, Jover the way, with a quite Impersonal Interest. # i He came Into Briggs’ place for supjper. Mrs. Briggs was her own waitress. Briggs himself sat beside Hazel. (She heard him grunt, and saw a mild look of surprise flit over his countenance when Roaring Bill walked In and coolly took a seat. But not until Hazel glanced at the newcomer did she recognize him as the man who had fought In the street. He was looking etralght at her when she did glance «p, and the mingled astonishment and Krqnk admiration In his clear gray eyes made Hazel drop hers quickly to her plate. Since Mr. Andrew Bush, lihe was beginning to hate men who ooked at her that way. And she could

not help seeing mat many atd so took. The next Saturday Hazel went for a tramp In the afternoon. The few walks she had taken had dnlled all sense of uneasiness in venturing Into the infolding forest. She felt that those shadowy woods were less sinister than man. And since she had always kept her sense of direction and come straight to the Meadows whenever she went abroad, she hnd no fear or thought of losli.g her way. To reach her objective point, she crossed a long stretch of rolling land, well timbered, dense in parts with thickets of berry bushes. Midway In this she came upon a little brook, purring a monotone as it crawled over pebbled reaches and bathed the tangled roots of trees along its brink. By this she sat a while. Then she idled along, coming after considerable difficulty to abruptly rising ground. She could not see the town, but she could mark the low hills behind it. At any rate, she knew where It lay, and the way back. So she thought. But the short afternoon fled, and, warned by the low dip of the sun, she left her nodk on the hillside to make her way home. Though It was near sundown, she felt no particular concern. The long northern twilight gave her ample time to cover the distance. But once down on the rolling land, among the close-ranked trees, she began to experience a difficulty that had not hitherto troubled her. With the sun hanging low, she lost her absolute certainty of east' and west, north and south. She blundered on, not admitting to herself the possibility of being nnable to find Cariboo Meadows. As best she could, and to the best of her belief, she held In a straight line for the town. But she walked far enough to have I overrun It, and was yet upon unfamiliar ground. I The shadows deepened until she tripped over roots and stones, and snagged her hair and clothing on branches she could not see in time to fend off. As a last resort, she turned straight for the light patch still showing in the northwest, hoping thus to | cross the wagon road that ran from Soda Creek to the Meadows —it lay west, and she had gone northeast from town. And as she hurried, a fear bei gan to tag at her that she had passed the Meadows unknowingly. | Presently It was dark, and darkness In the woods Is the darkness of the pit Itself. She found a fallen tree, and climbed on it to rest and think. After what seemed an age she fancied she saw a gleam far distant in the timber. She watched the spot fixedly, and thought she saw the faint reflection of a light. That heartened her. She advanced toward it, hoping that It might be the gleam of a ranch window. Her progress was slow. She blundered over the litter of a forest floor, tripping over unseen obstacles. But ten minutes established beyond peradventure the fact that it was indeed a light. | * She kept on. The wavering gleam came from behind a thicket —an open 1 fire, she saw at length. “Beyond the fire she heard a horse sneeze. Within a few yards of the thicket through -which wavered the yellow gleam she halted, smitten with a sudden panic. This endured but a few seconds. All that she knew or had been told of frontier men reassured her. She had found them to a man courteous, awkwardly considerate. And she could not wander about all night. She moved cautiously, however, to the edge of the thicket, to a point where she could see the fire. A man { sat humped over the glowing embers, whereon sizzled a piece of meat. His head was bent forward, as if he were listening. Suddenly he looked up, end she gasped—for the flrbllght showed the features of Roaring BUI Wagstaff. She was afraid of him. Why, she did not know nor stop to reason. She turned to retreat. In the same Instant Roaring Bill reached to his rifle and stood up. “Hold on there!” he said coolly. “You’re had a look at me—l want a look at you, old feller, whoever you •re. Come on—show yourself.” He stepped sidewise out of the light as he spoke. Hazel started to run. The crack of a branch underfoot betrayed her, and he closed In before she took three steps. He caught her rudely by the arm and yanked her bodily into the firelight. I “Well —for the—love of—Mike!” Wagstaff drawled the exclamation out In a rising crescendo of astonishment. Then he laid his gun down across a roll 6f bedding, and stood looking at her In speechless wonder. “For the love of Mike!” Roaring BUI said again. “What are you doing wandering around In the woods at night? Good Lord ! Your teeth are chattering. Sit down here and get warm. It Is sort of chilly.” Even in her fear, born of the night, the circumstances, and partly of the than, Hazel noticed that his speech was of a different order from that to which she had been listening the- past ten days. His enunciation was perfect. He dropped no word endings, nor slurred his syllables. And cast In so odd a mold Is the mind of civilized woman that the small matter of a little refinement of speech pnt Hazel Weir more at her ease than a Volume- ot xplanatlon Or protest on his part

would Rave done. “I got lost,” she explained, growing suddenly calm. “I was out walking, and lost my way.” “Easy thing to do when you don’t know timber,” Bill remarked. “And In consequence you haven’t had any supper; you’ve been scared almost to death —and probably all of Cariboo Meadows is out looking for you. Welt, you've had an adventure. That’s worth something. Better eat a bite, and you’ll feel better.” • He turned over the piece of meat on the coala while he spoke. Hasel saw that It lay on two green sticks, like a steak on .a gridiron. It was quits { simple, but she would never have 1 thought of that. The meat exhaled savory odors. Also, the warmth of the fire seemed good. But—“l’d rather be home,” she confessed. “Sure! I guess you would —naturally. I’ll see that you get there, though It won’t be casv. Ifs no snaf'

to travel these woods In the dark. You couldn’t have been so ffar from the Meadows. How did It come you didn’t yell once in a while?” “I didn’t think it was necessary,’ Hazel admitted, “until It began to get dark. And then I didn’t like to.” He dug Rome utensils out of his pack layout—two plates, knife, fork and spoons, and laid them by the fire. Op poslte the meat a pot of water bubbled. Roaring Bill produced a small tin bucket, black with the smoke of many an open fire, and a package, and make coffee. Then he spread a canvas sheet, and laid on that bread, butter, salt, a jar of preserved fruit. “How far is it to Cariboo Meadows?” Hazel nsked. ; Bill looked up from his supper prep aratlons. “You’ve got me,” he returned carelessly. “Probably four or five miles. JT’m not positive; I’ve been running In circles myself this afternoon.’’ “Good heavens!’’ Hazel exclaimed. “But you know the way?’’ a book —In the daytime,”, he replied. “But night in the timber is another story, as you’ve Just been finding out for yourself.” “I thought men accustomed to the wilderness could always-find their way about, day or night,” Hazel observed tartly. “They can —In stories,” Bill answered dryly. She had to be satisfied with his assurance that he would see her to Cariboo Meadows. And, accepting the situation with what philosophy she could command, Hazel proceeded to fall to — and soon discovered herself relishing the food more than any meal she had eaten for a long time. Hunger is the king of appetizers, and food cooked In the open has a flavor of its own which no aproned chef can duplicate. Roaring Bill put half the piece of meat on her plate; sliced bread for her, and set the butter handy. Also, he poured her a cup of coffee. He had a small sack of sugar, and his pack boxes yielded condensed milk. “What sort of meat Is that?” Hazel asked after a few minutes of silence. It was fine-grained and of a rich flayor strange to her mouth. She liked it but it was neither beef, pork nor mutton, nor any meat she knew. "Venison. Didn’t you ever ept any before?” he smiled. "Never tasted it,” she answered. “Isn’t it nice? No, I’ve read of hunters cooking venison over an open fire, but this Is my first taste. Indeed, I’ve never seen a real camp fire before.” “Lord—what a lot you’ve missed!” There was real pity In his tone. “I killed that deer today. Have some more coffee.” He refilled her tin'cup, and devoted himself to his food. Before long they had satisfied their hunger. Bill laid a few dry sticks on the fire. The flames laid hold of them and shot up in bright, wavering tongues. It seemed to Hazel that she had stepped utterly out of her world. Cariboo Meadows, the schoolhouse, and her classes seemed remote. She found herself wishing she were a man, so that she could fare Into the wilds with horses and a gun In this capable man fashion, where routine went by the board and the unexpected hovered always close at hand. She looked up suddenly, "to find him regarding her with a whimsical smile. “In a few minutes,” said he, "I’ll pack up and try to deliver you as per contract. Meantime, I’m going to unrice.” . He did hot ask her-permission, but .filled his pipe and lighted it with a coal. And for ftie succeeding fifteen minutes Roaring Bill Wagstaff sat staring into the dancing blaze. Hazelwatched him uneasily after a time. He seemed to have forgotten her. His pipe died, and he sat holding It In his hand. She was uneasy, but not afraid. Theca was nothing about-.him or his

actions to make her fear. On the Contrary, Roaring BUI at close quartern Inspired confidence. tn the midst of her reflections be got up. •Well, well make • more,” lie sal*, •a* disappeared abruptly Into the darkness. She hear* him movtng around at name distance. Presently he was back, leading three horses. One he saddled. The other two he rigged with his pack outfit, storing Ms varied belongings In tha two pair of kyaks, and loading kymks and bedding on the horses with • deft speed that bespoke long practice. He was too busy to talk, and Hazel sat beside the fire, watching In silence. When he had tncked np the last rope end, he turned to her. “There.” he said; “we’re ready to hit the trail. Can yon ride?” “I don’t know,” Hazel answered dubiously. “I have never ridden a horse.” “My, my!” he smiled. “Your education has been sadly neglected—and you a schoolma’am. too!”

“My walking education hasn’t been neglected,” Hazel retorted. “I don’t need to ride, thunk you.” “Yes, and sfub your toe and fall down every ten feet,” BUI observed. "No, Miss Weir, your first lesson In horsemanship Is now due —If you aren’t afraid of horses.” s “I’m not afraid of horses at all,” Hazel declared. “But I don’t think It’s a very good place to take riding lessons. I can Just as well walk, for I’m not In the least afral<E*’ And then she added ns an afterthought: “How do yon happen to khow my name?” “In the same wny that yon know mine,” Bill replied, “even If you haven’t mentioned It yet. Lord bless you,- do you suppose Cariboo Meadows could (mport a lady school tcucher from the Civilized -jEast without everybody lo fifty miles knowing who she was, and where she came from, and what she looked like? I guess you don’t realize what old granny gossips we wild Westerners are. Especially where girls are concerned.” Hazel stiffened a trifle. She did 310 t like the idea of Cariboo Meadows discussing her with such freedom. “Well,” said he, “we won’t argue the point.” * He disappeared Into the dark again. This time he came back with the crown of his hat full of water, which he sprinkled over the dwindling fire. As the red glow of the embers faded In a sputter of steam and ashes, Hazel realized more profoundly the blackness of a cloudy night In the woods. “It’s going to be nasty traveling, Miss Weir.” Roaring BUI spoke at her elbow. “I’ll walk and lead the packs. You ride Silk. He’s gentle. All you have to do is sit sfill, and he’ll stay right behind the packs. you mount.” If Hazel had still been Inclined to Insist on walking, she had no chance to debate the question. Bill took her by the arm and led her up beside the horse. It was a unique experience for her, this being compelled to do things. No man Jind ever issued ultimatums to her. But here was Roaring Bill Wagstaff telling her how to put her foot In the stirrup, putting her for thq. first time in her life astride a horse, warning her to duck low branches. In his mind there seemed to be no question as to whether or not she would ride. He had settled that. Unused to mounting, she blundered at the first attempt, and flushed In the dark ot Bill’s amused chuckle. The next instant he caught her under the arms, and, with the leverage of her one foot in the stirrup, set her gently In the seat of the saddle. “You’re such a -little person,” he Bald, “these stirrups are a mile too long.- Put your feet In the leather above —so. Now play' follow your leader. Give Silk his head.” He moved away. Obedient to Bill’s command, she let the reins dangle, and Silk followed close behind his mates. |lacel lurched unsteadily at first, but presently she caught the swinging motion and could maintain her balnnbe without holding stiffly to the saddle horn. The night seemed endless ns the wilderness itself. Unused to riding, she became sore, and then the sore muscles stiffened. The chill of the night air Intensified. She grew oold, her fingers numb. She did not know where she was going, and she was assailed with doubts of Roaring Bill’s ability to find Cariboo Meadows. “Mr. Wagstaff!” she called. “Yours truly,” his voice hailed back, away to one side. “I’ll be there In a mlnnte,” In less time he appeared beside her. “Will you fall off, or be lifted off?” he said cheerfully. m "Where are we?” she demanded. “Ask me something easy,” he returned. "I've been going It blind for an hour, trying to hit the Soda Creek trail, or any old trail that would show me where I am. It’s no use. Too dark.” ' “What on earth am I going to do?” Hazel cried desperately. . “Camp here till daylight,” Roaring Bill answered evenly. "The only thing to do. Good Lord!” His hand accidentally rested on hers. “You’re like ice. I didn’t think about you getting cold riding. Get down and put on a coat, and I’ll have a fire In a minute.” “I suppose if I must, I must; but I can get' off without any help, thank you,” Hazel answered ungraciously. Roaring Bill made no reply, but stood back, and when her feet touched solid earth he threw over her shoulders the coat he had worn himself. Then he turned awtay, and Hazel saw him stooping here and there, and fr&ard the crack of dry sticks broken over his knee. In no time he was back to the horses with an armful of dry stuff, and hud a small blaze licking up thrdugh- dry grass and twjgs. As it grew he plied on larger sticks till the bright flame waved two feet high.

I limiting up the nearby woods and shedding a bright glow on the three horses standing patiently at hand. He paid no attention to Haael until aha came timidly up to the Are. Then he looked ap at her with bis whimsical smile. “That’s right," he said; “come on and get warm. No use worrying—or getting cross. I Suppose from your civilised, conventional point of view It’s a terrible thing to be out tn the woods all night alone with a strange man. Bat I*in not a bear —I won't eat you.” “I*m sorry If I seemed rude,” Hasel said peoltently; “I can’t help thinking of the disagreeable side of It. People talk so. I suppose I’ll be a nine days’ wonder In Cariboo Meadows.'* Bill laughed softly. “Let them take it out In wondering,” he advised. “Cariboo Mendows Is a very small and Insignificant portion of the world, anyway.” He went to one of the packs, and came back with a canvas cover, which he spread on the ground. “Sit on that,” he said. “The earth’s always dump In the woods." Then he stripped the horses of their burdens and tied them out of sight among the trees. Thnt task finished, he took an ax and rustled a pile of wood, drugging dend poles up to the fire and chopping them Into short lengths. When flnnlly he laid aside Ids ax, he busied hlihself with gathering grass and leaves and pine needles nntil he had several armfuls collected and spread In an even pile to serve as u mattress. Upon this he laid his bedding, two thick quilts, two or three pairs of woolen blankets, u pillow, the whole Inclosed with a long canvas sheet, the bed tarpuulln of the cattle ranges. “There,” he said; "you can turn In whenever you feel like It." For himself he took the saddle blankets and laid them close by the fire within reaching distance of the woodpile, taking for cover a pack canvas. He stretched himself full length, filled his pipe, lit it. und fell to staring into the fire while he smoked. Half an hour later he raised his head and looked across the fire at Hazel.

“Why don’t you go to bed?” he asked. ' “I’m not sleepy,” she declared, which was a palpable falsehood, for her eyelids were even then drooping. “Maybe not, but you need rest,” Bill said quietly. “Quit thinking things. It’ll be nil the same a hundred years from now. Go on to bed. You’ll be more comfortable." Thuji peremptorily commanded, Hazel found herself granting Instant obedience. She got Into the blankets Just as she stood, even to her shoes, ami drew the canvas sheet up so thut It

hid her face—but did not prevent her from seeing. In spite of herself she slept fitfully. Now and then she would wake-:with nr start to a hnlf-flightened realization of her surroundings and plight, and whenever she did wake and look past the fire it was to see Roaring Bill Wagstaff stretched out In thf red glow, his brown head pillowed on one folded nrin. Then all at once she wakened out of sound slumber -with a violent start. Roaring Bill was shaking the tarpaulin over her and laughing. "Arise, Miss Sleeping Beauty I” he said boyishly. “Breakfast’s ready.” He went back to the fire. Hazel sat up, patting her tousled hair into some semblance of order. Off In the east a reddish streak spread skyward Into somber gray. In the west, black night gave ground slowly. "Well, It’s another day,” she whispered, as she had whispered to herself once before. "I wonder if there will ever be any more like it?”. v (TO BE CONTINUED.)

“What Are You Doing Wandering Around the Woods at Night?"

"Will You Fall Off, or Will You Be Lifted Off?" He Said Cheerfully.