Jasper County Democrat, Volume 22, Number 10, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 3 May 1919 — North of Fifty-Three [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

North of Fifty-Three

By Bertrand W. Sinclair

(Opjrijhl by UuU, Brown A On*) BYNOPBIB. CHAPTER I—The story open* tn the town of Granville Ontario, where Miaa Hasel Weir la employed as a stenographer in the office of Harrington and Bush. She Is engaged to Jack Barrow a young real estate agent, and the wedding day is set. ■While walking with him one Sunday they tneet Mr. Bush, Hasel’s employer, who for the first time seems to notice her at* tractivenesa. Shortly afterward, at hie request. she becomes his private stenographer. After throe months Mr. Bush proposes marriage, which Hasel declines, and after a stormy scene In the office Hasel leaves her employment, Mr. Bush warning her he would make her sorry for refusing him. CHAPTER IT—Bush makes an effort, by a gift of flowers, to compromise Hasel In ’the minds of her friends. She returns them. The next day Bush is thrown from his horse and fatally hurt. Ho sends for 'Hasel, who refuses to see him before he ’dies. Three days afterward it Is announced that he left a legacy of 18,000 to Hasel, “in reparation for any wrong I ■may have done her.” Hasel recognises at ionce what construction will be put upon the words. Bush had his revenge. 1 CHAPTER lll—Jack Barrow, In a fit ‘of jealous rage, demands from Hasel ax> explanation of Bush's action. Hasel’s pride 'la hurt, and she refuses. The engage’ment is broken and Hasel determines to 'leave Granville. She sees an advertisement for a school teacher at Cariboo ■‘Meadows, British Columbia, and secures the situation. ' CHAPTER IV—Cariboo Meadows Is In a wild part of British Columbia and Hasel. shortly after her arrival, loses her way while walking In the woods. She wanders until night, when, attracted by 'the light of a campfire, she turns to It. hoping to find somebody who will guide her home. At the fire she recognises a 'character known to Cariboo Meadows as ’“Roaring Bill Wagstaff." who had seen "her at ner boarding house there. He promises to take her home In the morning, but she is compelled to spend the night in the woods. ’ CHAPTER V-r-They start next day, ■Hasel supposes, for Cariboo Meadows, but Wagstaff finally admits he Is t^ ln f her to his cabin In the mountains. He Is respectful and considerate and Hasel, though protesting Indignantly, Is helpless <nd has to accompany him. ’ CHAPTER Vl—At the cabin Wagstaff Wrovldee Hasel with clothing which had been left by tourists. There they pass the winter. Wagstaff tells her he loves ■her, but tn her Indignation at her "abduotion" ilh refuses to listen to him. CHAPTER VH—With the coming of spring Hasel Insists that Wagstaff take Ter out of the mountains. He endeavors to persuade her to marry him and stay, but on her persistent refusal, he accompanies her to Bella Coola, from where •he oaa proceed to Vancouver. . CHAPTER VTTT—On parting. Wagstaff gives Hasel a package which she dl «f? v ' ers later contains 11.200 and a map which will enable her to find her the Tebin if she desires to go back. At Vancouver Hasel plans to return to Granville, but on the train realises that she loves Wagstaff, and decides to go to him. 6he leaves the train at the first stop. CHAPTER IX—With the aid of Bill’s 'map she finds her way back, and the pair ■travel *o a Hudson Bay post and are ■married After some months they decide to go farther into the mountains to a spot where Bill is confident there is gold. ; CHAPTER X—After an arduous trip, which severely tries Hasel’s strength, they arrive at their destination and settle down for the long winter. CHAPTER Xl—Wagstaff builds a cabin and a stable for the horses and cuts and stacks sufficient hay to last until spring. Food there is in plenty. Hasel, forgetting the danger, allows sparks from the chimney to set fire to the stable, which is consumed, with all the Bt ored hay. To keep the animals from death by starvation Bill Is compelled to shoot them. CHAPTER XH—With the first .spring days they start prospecting for gold and are lucky. With the gold, and packs of furs, the product of Bill’s trapping during the winter, they start back to the cabin they call home. • CHAPTER XH!—Without the horses the trip is severe, but they arrlv®, and find they have iJauer a German from Milwaukee, wiui his w/fe and children. CHAPTER XIV—To please Hazel, tired of the solitude of the mountains. Bill agrees to make a visit to Granville. Basel Is welcomed by society. al }d ,^H? 8 herself in her element, but the artificiality ®f the life wearies Bill. With some business men he forms a company to work ithe claims on which he and Hazel had 'found gold. CHAPTER XV—Affairs connected with the claims force Wagstaff to go back.to the mountains. On his return h®. fl ”? 8 Its associates have planned a stock-job-bfng deal which Is unfair to him ■®«*»ls friends. He protests, and the matter ends in a brawl in which Bill uses his fists. Hazel is Indignant on account of the scandal. _____

CHAPTER XVI. The Note Discordant Bill had divested himself of the •cowl. He smiled as a man who had solved some knotty problem to his entire satisfaction. Moreover, he bore no mark of conflict, none of the conventional scars of a rough-and-tnmble 'fight For a moment Hasel found herself believing the Herald story a pure canard. But as he walked across the room her searching gaze discovered that the knuckles of both his hands wore bruised and bloody, the skin broken. She picked up the paper. “Is this true?” she asked tremulousily, pointing to the offending headlines. “Substantially correct" he answered toolly. “Bill, how could you?” she cried. |“lt’s simply disgraceful. Brawling in public like any saloon loafer, and getting In jail and all. Haven’t you any {Consideration for me—any pride?” “Yes,” he said deliberately. "I have, (pride In my word as a man. A sort [of pride that won’t allow any bunch [of llly-flngered crooks to make me a (party to any dirty deal. I don’t propose to get the worst of It In that way. II won’t allow myself to bp tarred with [their stick.” I “But they’re not trying to give you ithe worst of it.”-she burjrt out. Visions

of utter Humiliation arose to confront and madden her. “You've Insulted and abused our best friends —to say nothing of giving us all the benefit of newspaper scandal. We'll be notorious!" “Best friends? God save the mark !f he snorted contemptuously. “Our best friends, ns you please to call them, are crooks, thieves and liars. They’re rotten. They stink with their moral rottenness. And hey have the gall to call it good business.” "Just because their business methods don’t agree with your peculiar i<**ns la no reason why you should call names.” she flared. "Mr. Brooks called just after you left at noon. He told ine something about this, and assured me that you would find yourself mistaken if you’d only take pains to think It over. I don’t believe such men as they are would stoop to anything crooked.” "So Brooks came around to talk It over with you. eh?” Bill sneered. "Told you lt*wns all on the square, did he? Explained It all very plausibly, I suppose. Probably suggested that you try smoothing me down, too. It would be llke»’em." “He did explain about this stockselling business,” Hazel replied defensively. "And I can’t see why you find it necessary to make a fuss. I don’t see where the cheating and crookedness comes In. Everybody who buys stock gets their money's worth, don’t they? But I don’t care anything about your old mining deal. It’s this fighting and quarreling with people who are not used to that sqrt of brute action — and the horrid things they’ll sajr and think about us.”

"About you. you mean —as the wife of such a boor—that’s what's rubbing you raw,” Bill flung out passionately. “You’re acquiring the class psychology, good and fast. Did you ever think of anybody but yourself? The pettylarceny incident of my knocking down two or three men and being under arrest as much as thirty minutes looms up before you as the utter depths of disgrace. Disgrace to you! It’s all you—you! How do you suppose it strikes me to have my wife take sides against me on snap Judgment like that? It shows a heap of faith and trust and loyalty, doesn’t it? Oh, it makes me real proud and glad of my mate. It does.*’ “If you'd explain,” Hazel began hesitatingly. She was thoroughly startled at the smoldering wrath that flared out in this speech of his. “DI explain nothing,” Bill flashed stormiiy. “Not at this stage of the game. I’m through explaining. Pm going to act I refuse to be raked over the coals like a naughty child, and then asked to tell why I did it I’m right, and when I know I'm* right I’ll go the limit Pm going to take the kinks out of this Free Gold deal inside of forty-eight hours. Then Pm through with Granville. Hereafter I intend to fight shy of a breed of dogs who lose every sense of square dealing when there is a bunch of money in sight I shall be ready to leave here within a week. And I want you to be ready, too.” “I won’t” she cried, on the verge of hysterics. “I won’t go back to that cursed and loneliness. You made this trouble here, not L I won’t

go back to Pine river, or the Klappan. I won’t, I tell you 1” Bill stared at her moodily for a second. “Just as you please,” he said quietly. He walked into the spare bedroom. Hazel heard the door close gently .be-

hind him. heard the soft dick of a well-oiled lock. Then she slumped, gasping, tn the wide-armed chair by the window, and the hot tears came in a blinding flood. They exchanged only bare civilities at the breakfast table, and Bill st once went downtown. When he was gone, Hasel fidgeted uneasily about the rooms. When six o’clock brought Bill home, she was coldly disapproving of him •nd his affairs in their entirety, and at no pains to hide her feelings. He followed her Into the living room when the uncomfortable meal —uncomfortable by reason of the surcharged atmosphere—was at an end. "Let’s get down to bed rock. Hazel,” he said gently. “Doesn’t it seem rather foolish to let a bundle of outside troubles set up so much friction between us two? I don't want to stir anything up; I don’t want to quarrel. But I can’t stand this coldness and reproach from you.” “I don’t care to discuss it at all,” she flared up. “I’ve heard nothing else ail day but this miserable mining business and your ruffianly method oi settling a dispute. I’d rather not talk about It.” "But we must talk about it,” he per slated patiently. “You can’t get to th« bottom of anything without more or less talk.” “Talk to yourself, then,” she retort ed ungraciously. And with that she ran out of the room. But she had forgotten or underesti ; mated the catlike quickness of her man. He caught her in the doorway, and the grip of his fingers on her arm brought a cry of pain.

“Forgive me. I didn't mean to hurt,” he said contritely. “Be a good girl, Hazel, and let’s get our feet on earth again. Sit down and put your arm around my neck and be my pal, like you used to be. We’ve got no business nursing any crime. I’ve only stood for a square deal. Come on; bury the hatchet, little person.” “Let me go,” she sobbed, struggling to be free. “I h-hate you 1” “Please, little person. I can’t eat humble pie more than once or twice.” “Let me go,” she panted. “I don’t want you to touch me.” "Listen to me,” he said sternly. “Pve stood about all of your nonsense I’m able to stand. I’ve bad to fight a pack of business wolves to keep them from picking my carcass, and, what's more important to me, to keep them from handing a raw deal to five men who wallowed through snow and frost •nd all kinds of hardship to make these sharks a fortune. I’ve got down to their level and fought them with their own weapons—and the thing Is settled. I said last night I'd be through here inside a week. I’m through now —through here. I have business in the Klappan; to complete this thing I’ve set my hand to. Then I’m going to the ranch and try to get the bad taste out of my mouth. I’m going tomorrow. I’ve no desire or intention to coerce you. You’re my wife, and your place is with me, if you care anything about me. And I want you. You know that, don’t you? I wouldn’t be begging you like this if I didn’t. I haven’t changed, nor had my eyes dazzled by any false gods. But it’s up to you. I don’t bluff. I’m going, and if I have to go without you I won’t come back. Think it over, and just ask yourself honestly if it’s worth while.” " He drew her up close to him and kissed her on one anger-flushed cheek, and then, as he had done the night before, walked straight away to the bedroom and closed the door behind him. Hazel slept little that night. A horrid weight seemed to rest suffocatingly upon her. More than once she had an impulse to creep in there where BIH lay and forget It all in the swaep of that strong arm. But she choked back the Impulse angrily. She would not forgive him. He had made her suffer. For hla high-handedness she would make him suffer tn kind. At least, she would not crawl to him begrglng forgiveness. When sunrise laid a yellow beam, all full of dancing notes, across her bed, she heard Bill stir, heard him moving about the apartment with restless steps. After a time she also heard the unmistakable sound of a trunk lid thrown back, and the movements of him as he gathered his clothes—so she surmised. But she did not rise till the maid rapped on her door with the eight o’clock salutation: “Breakfast, ma’am.” They made a pretense of eating. Hazel sought a chair in the living room. A book lay open in her lap. But the print ran into blurred lines. She could not follow the sense of the words. An incessant turmoil of thought harassed her. Bill passed through the room once or twice. Determinedly she ignored him. The final snap of the lock on his trunk came to her at last, the bumping sounds of its passage to the hall. Then a burly expressman shouldered it into his wagon and drove away. A few minutes after that Bill came in and took a seat facing her. “What are you going to do, Hazel?” he asked soberly. “Nothing,” she curtly replied. “Are you going to sit down and fold your hands and let our air castles come tumbling about our ears, without making the least effort to prevent?” he continued gently. “Seems to me that’s not like you at all. I never thought you were a quitter.” Tm not a quitter,” she flung back resentfully. “I refuse to be browbeaten, that’s all. Tlrere appears to be only one choice —to follow you like a lamb. And I’m not lamblike. I’d say that you are the quitter. You have stirred up all this trouble here between, us. Now you’re running away from 1L That’s how it looks to me.

Go on! I can get along.” "I dare say you cun,” he commented wearily. “Moat of us can muddle along somehow, no matter what hap pens. But It seems a pity, little person. We had all the chance in the world. You've developed an abnormal streak lately. If you’d just break away and come back #lth me. You don’t know what good medicine thoat old woods are. Won’t you try it s while?” "1 am not by nature fitted to lead the hermit existence,” she returned sarcastically. . And even while her lips were utter Ing these various unworthy little bitternesses she inwardly wondered at her own words. It was not what sh< would have said, not at all what sht was half minded to sny. But a devil of perverseness spurred her. She wa» full of protest against everything. “1 wish we'd had a baby,” Bill mur mured softly. “You'd be different You'd have something to live for be aides this frothy, neurotic extstenci that has poisoned you against the good, clean, healthy way of life. 1 wish we’d had a kiddie. We’d havt a fighting chance for happiness now something to keep us saue, somethin) outside of our own ego to influence us.” “Thank God there isn’t one!” sh< muttered. “Ah, well,” Bill sighed, “I guest there is no use. I guess we can’t gel together on anything. There doesn't seem to be any give-and-take between us any longer.” He rose and walked to the door. With his hand en the knob, he turned "I have fixed things at the bank sot you,” he said abruptly. Then he walked out, without waiting for an answer. She heard the soft whir of the elevator. A minute later she saw him on (he sidewalk. He had an overCbat on his arm, a suitcase in his hand. She saw him lift a finger to halt a passing car. It seemed incredible that he should go like that. Surely he would come back at noon or at dinner time. She had always felt that under his gentleness there was iron. But deep in her heart she had never believed him so implacable of purpose where she was concerned. She waited wearily, stirring with nervous restlessness from room to room. Luncheon passed. The afternoon dragged by to a close. Dusk fell. And when the night wrapped Granville in its velvet mantle, and the street lights blinked away in shining rows, she cowered, sobbing, in the big chair by the window. He was gone. Gone, without even saying good-by I

(TO BE CONTINUED.)

“I Won’t Go Back to Pine River or the Klappan. I Won’t, I Tell You!"