Nappanee Advance-News, Volume 42, Number 23, Nappanee, Elkhart County, 1 February 1923 — Page 6

The STRENGTH of the PINES

"FORGIVE YOU?” % SYNOPSIS.-At the death of his foster fattier Bruce Duncan, in an eastern city, receive? a' mysterrbus message, sent by a Mrs. Ross, summoning him peremptorily-to southern Oregon—to. t meet ••Linda" Bruce has vivid but baffling recollections of his childhood in an orphanage. before his adoption by Newton Duncan, with the girl Linda. At his destination. Trail's End. news that a message has been sent to Bruce gets to Simon Turner. Leaving the train, Bruce is astonished at his apparent familarity with the surroundings, though to his. knowledge he has never been there. On the way. Simon warns him to give up his quest and return East, Bruce * refuses. ‘Mrs. Rom. aged and infirm, welcomes him with emdtiorr. She hastens him on his way—the end of "Pine-Needle -Trail." Bruce finds his childhood playmate, Linda. The girl tells him of wrongs .committed by an enemy clan, the Turners, on her family, the Rosses. Lands occupied by the clan were stolen from the Rosses, and the family, with the exception •of Aiint Elmira-(Mrs,- Ross) and herself, wiped out-by assassination. Bruce's father. _ Matthew . Folger, was one of the victims. His mother The girl, when 5m4.11. had been kidnaped from the .orphanage and brought to the mountains. lJnda’s father .had - deeded his lands to Matthew Folger. but the agreement, which would confute* the enemy claims on the property, had been lost. Bruce’B mountain blood responds to the call of the bloodfeud. A giant tree, the Sentinel Pine, in front of Linda’s cabin, seems to Bruce’s excited imagination to be endeavoring t'o convey a message. Bruce sets out in search of a trapper named Hudson, a witness to the agreement between Linda's father and Matthew Folger. A gigantic grizzly, known as the Killer, is the terror of the vicinity. Dave Turner, sent by Simon; --bribes HTidSofT'to "swear* falsely concerning the agreement. The Killer strikes down Hudson. Bruce, on his way to Hudson, wounds the Killer, driving him from' m: ~*Hwdsenr-rfe&rniri£ ~ ,Brape’s Tfoflmyr- -telLdum - the hiding place* of the agreemeafcbut death summons him. Dave decoys Linda and Aunt Elmira from their home. The man insults Linda and is struck down by the aged woman. Elmira’s son has been murdered by Dave, and at her command. after securely binding the desperado. Linda leaves them alone. Returning, Bruce finds a note, apparently from' Linda, telling him she has been kidnaped by the Turners. Bruce falls into Simon’s trap, and is made a prisoner. Charging Bruce with attempting to reopen the blood-feud, the clan ■leaves him, bound, in a pasture on the spot where the Killer had slain and half eaten a calf the night before. Bruce, helpless, awaits arrival of the Killer and death. Simon makes Linda an offer of marriage. The girl refuses, telling him she loves Bruce. Enraged, the man strikes her and leaves. 'Hie girl is confident he will go to Bruce and follows him. With the Killer actually sniffling at Bruce’s body. Linda, on horseback, arrives, wounds the animal, and carries her lover away.

CHAPTER XXlV—Continued. —lo— had rather liked his appearance as he saw himself In thp water of the spring. The last of the velvet had been rubbed from his horns, and the twelve tines (six on each horn) were as hard and almost as sharp as so many bayonet points. As the morning dawned, the change In the face of nature beeame-ever more manifest. The leaves of the shrubbery began to change in color. The wind out of the north had a keener, more biting quality, and the birds were having some sort of exciting debate in the tree tops. - The birds are always a scurried, nervous, rather rattle-brained outfit, and seem wholly incapable of making a decision about anything without hours of argument and discussion. Their days are simply filled with one excitement after another, and they tell more scandal in an hour than the old ladies in a resort manage in the entire summer. This slow transformation in the color of the leaves, not to mention the chill of the frost through their scanty feathers, had created a sensation from one end of hirdland to another. '• And there was only one thing about it. That was to wait until the darkness closed down again, then start away toward the path of the sun in search of their winter resorts in the south. The Little People in the forest of ferns beneath were not such gay birds, and they did not have such high-flown Ideas as these feathered folk in the branches. They didn't talk such foolishness and small talk from dawD to dark. They didn’t wear gay clothes that weren’t a particle of good to them In cold weather. You can Imagine them as being good, substantial, mld-dle-class people, much more soberminded, tending strictly to business and working hard, and among other things they saw no need of flitting down to Southern resorts for the cold season. These people-—being mostly ground squirrels and gophers and chipmunks and rabbits —had not been fitted by nature for wide travel and had made all arrangements for a pleasant winter at home.. You could algios* ** smile on the fat face of a

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LuUmm old' eophtM* \vW 4ie. came out Mfiil r.mixt trip wwsrtirnn- ttie--grt>utnfr for he kuew that for months past,he' 1 had been putting away stores for Just this season. In tne snows that would follow he would simply retire into the farthest recesses of his burrow and let the winds whistle vainly above him. The larger creatures, however, were less complacent. The wolves —if animals have any powers of foresight whatever —knew that only hard days, not luscious nuts and roots, were in store for them. There would.be many days of hunger once the snow came over the land. The black bear saw Hie signs and began a desperate effort to lay up as many extra pounds of fat as possible before the snows broke. He would have need of the extra flesh. The time was coming when all sources of food would be cut off by the snows, and he would have to seek the security nf hibernation. He hadjriready chosen.an underground abode for himself and there die could doze away in the cold-trance through the winter months, subsisting on the supplies of-fat that he had stored next to. liis furty hide. ■Jhe_.. greatest of ail the bears, the Killer," knew" that' some sucF JiPET awaited him 'also. But .he looked forward to it with wretched spirit. He was master of ’the forest, and perhaps he did not like to yield” even"to tne spirit of winter. His savagery grew upon him every day, and his dislike, for men had .turned to a veritable hatred. But he,.had found them out. When Be Crossed their trails again, he would not wait to stalk. They were apt to slip away from him in this case and sting him unmercifully with bullets. yhe thing to do was charge 'quickly and strike with all his power. The .tiiree mino r„ wounds he-hadjre-ceived—two from pistol bullets and one from Bruce's rifle —had not lessened his strength at all. They did, however, serve to keep his blood-heat at Tlfy"pxplosivr-wtng'e' West of the dayjyid. night. . . The flowers and the grasses were dying: the. moths that, paid calls on the flowers had laid their eggs and had perished, and winter lurked —ready to pounce forth —Just beyond the distant mountains. There is nothing so thoroughly unreliable as the mountain autumn. It may linger in entrancing golds arid browns month after month, until it is almost time for spring to come again; and again it may make one short bow and usher in the winter. To Bruce and Linda, in tne old Folger home in Trail's End, these fail days offered the last hope of success in their war against the Turners. The adventure in the pasture with Jhe- Killer had handicapped them to an unlooked-for degree. Bruce's muscles had been severely strained by the bonds; several days had - elapsed before he regained their full use. Linda was a mountain girl, hardy as a deer, yet her nerves had suffered a greater shock by the experience than either of them had guessed. The wild ride, the fear and the stress, and most of all the base blow that Simon had dealt her had been too •'touch even for her strong constitution: and she had. been obliged to go to bed soy a few days of rest. Old Elmira worked about the house the same as ever, but strange, new lights were in her eyes. For reasons that went down to the roots of things, neither Bruce nor Linda questioned her as to her scene with Dave Turner in the coverts; and what thoughts dwelt in her aged mind neither of them could guess. The truth was that in these short weeks of trial and danger whatever dreadful events had come to pass in that meeting were worth neither 'thought nOr words. Both Bruce .and Linda were down to essentials. It is a descent that most human beings—some time in their lives—find they are able to make; anil there was no room for sentimentality or hysteria in this grim household. The ideas, the softnesses, the laws of the valleys were fag away'from them; they were face to face with realities. 'Their code had become the basic code of life: to kill fu* self-Jirotectlun without mercy or remorse. They did not know when the Turners would attack. It was the dark of the moon, and the men would he able to upproach the house without presenting themselves as targets for Bruce's rifle. The danger was not a thing on which to conjecture and forget; it was an ever-present reality. Never they stepped out of the door, never they crossed a lighted window, never a pane rattled in the wind but that the wings of Death might have been hovering over them. The days were passing, the date when the chance for victory would utterly vanish was almost at hand, and they were haunted by the ghnstly fact shat their whole defense lay In* a single thirty-thirty rifle and five cartridges. Bruce’s own* gun Dad been taken from him In Simon’s house; Linda had emptied her pistol at the Killer. “We’ve got. to get more shells.” Bruce told Linda. “The Turners won’t be such fools ajk'to wait until we have the moon again, to attack. I can't understand why they haven't already

By EDISON MARSHALL

Author of “The Voice of the Pack”

come. Os course, they don’t know ammvliri4ldri T 6up-' ply, but it doesn't seem to me that that alone would have held them off. They are sure to come soon, and you know what we could do with five cartridges. don’t you?" “I know." She looked -up into his earnest face. “We could die—that's all." . "Yes—like rabbits. Without hurting them at all. I wouldn’t mind dying so-much, if I did plenty of damage first. It’s death for me, anyway, I suppose—and no one hut a fool can see it otherwise. , There, are simply too many against, us. But I do want to make some payment first." Her hand fumbled arid groped for his. Her eyes pleaded to film—more than any words. “And you mean you've given up hope?” she asked. He smiled down at her—a grave, strange little smile that moved her in secret ways. “Not given up hope, Linda,” he said gently. They were

Ilium W /2I a ilH att/f^

“And You Mean You’ve Given Up Hope?” She Asked. standing at the door and the sunlight —coming low from the south—was on ids face. ‘Tve never had any hope to.give -up—Just realization of what lay ahead of us. I’m looking It ail in the face now, just as I did at first.” “And what J-ou see—makes you afraid?" Yet she need not have asked that question. His face gave an unmistakable answer: that this man had conquered fear In the terrible night with the Killer. - “Not afraid, Linda,” he explained, "only seeing things as they really are. Ttiere are too many against us. If we hgTj that great estate behind us, with all its wealth, we might have a chance; if we had an arsenal of. rifles with thousands .of cartridges, we might make a stand against them. But we are three-—two women and one man—and one rifle between us all. Five iittie shells to be expended in five'see--onds. They are seven or eight, -each man armed, each man a rifle shot. They are certain to attack within a day or two —before we have" the moon again. In less than two -weeks we can no longer contest their title to the estate. A iittie month or two more and we Will be snowed in—with no chance to get out at all.” “Perhaps before that,” she told him.; “Yes. Perhaps before that.” They found a confirmation of this prophecy in the signs of fall without—tiie coloring leaves, the dying flowers, the new, cold breath of the wind. Only the pines remained unchanged; they were the same grave sentinels they always were. “And you can forgive me?” Linda asked, humbly. “Forgive you?" The man turned to her in surprise, "What have you done that needs to be forgiven?” “Oh, don’t you see? To bring you here —out of your cities —to throw your life away. To enllsriyou In a fight that you can’t hope t win. I’ve killed you. that’s all I’ve done. Perhaps tonight—perhaps a few days later." He nodded gravely, "And I’ve already killed your smile,” she went on, looking down. “Youirion’t smile any more the way you uses! to.; You’re not the hoy you were when you came. Oh, to think of it—that it’s all been my-work. To kill your youth, to lead you Into -this slaughter pen where nothing—nothing lives but death- —and hatred—and unhappiness.” The tears leaped to her eyes... He caught her hands and pressed them betwe'en his until pain came into her fingers. “Listen, Linda,” he commanded. She looked straight up at him. "Are you sorry I came,?”“More than I can tell you—for your sake.” “But when-people look for the truth in this world, Linda, they don’t take any one’s sake Into consideration. They balance alt things and give them thrilr true worth. Would you rattier that

THE NAPPANEE ADVANCE-NEWS

1* you and I had Sever mote— that I had 'df-Wr ixCvived Elmira's you should live your life’ up here without ever hearing of me?" ' She dropped her eyes. "It isn’t fair —to ask me that —■”■■■ i “Tell me the truth. Hasn’t it been worth while? Even If we lose and die before this night is done, hasn’t it all been worth while? Are you sorry you have seen me change? Isn’t the change for the better —a man grown instead of a boy? One who •looks straight and sees clear?” He studied her face; and after a while he found his answer. It was not In the form of words at first. As a man might watch—a- .-miracle he watched a new.light come into her dark-eyes. All the gloom and sorrow of the wilderness without could not affect its quality. It was a light of joy, of exultation, of new-found strength. “You hadn’t ought to ask me that, Bruce," she said with a rather strained distinctness. “It has been like being horn again. There aren’t any words to tell you what it has meant to me. And don’t think I huverit seen the change in you, too —tin* bjrih of anew. strength' that every day Is greater, ’ higher—until it i's<—almost more than I can understand. The old smiles are gone, but something else has taken their 'pla'ee—something 'much more" dear to me—but what it is I can hardly tell yon. Maybe it’s.something that the pines have,” But he hadn’t wholly forgotten howto smile. His face lighted us remembrance came to him. ‘.’.They are a different kind of smiles—that’s all,” lie explained. “Perhaps there Will be many of them in the days to come. Linda, I have no regrets. I’ve played the game. Whether it was Destiny" 'tHat'Broaght oniy'-tdiaheer-or perhaps—if ive take just life, and death into consideration—just misfortune, whatever it is I, feel no resent, (bent toward it. It,has>■■ the worth-. while adventure. It ms to that. I can understand the v hole world better than I used to. Maybe I can begin to see a big purpose and theme running througli it all —hut it’s not yet clear enougli to put into words. Certain things In this world are essentials, certain other ones are froth. And I see which things belong to one class and which to another so much more clearly than I did before. One of the things that matters is throwing one’s whole life into whatever task lie has set Out to do—whether he fails or sues ceeds doesn't seem greatly to matter. The main thing, it appears to me, is that lie has tried. To stand strong and kind of calm, and not be afraid — if I can always do It, Linda, it is all I ask for myself. Not to flinch now. Not to give up as long as I have the strength for another step. And to have you with me—all the way.” “Then you and I —take fresh heart?” “We've never lost heart, Linda.” “Not to give up, but only be glad we’ve tried?” “Yes. And keep on trying.” “With no regrets?” "None—and maybe to borrow a little strength from the pines!” This was th-lr r.ew pact. To stand firm and strong and unflinching, and never to yield as long as an ounce of strength remained. As if to seal it, her arms crept about his neck and her soft lips pressed -his. CHAPTER XXV Toward the end of the afternoon Linda saddled and rode down the trail toward Martin's store. She had considerable business to attend to. Among other things, she was going to buy thirty-thirty cartridges —ail that Martin had in 9tock. She had some hope of securing an extra gun or two with shells to match. The additional space in her pack was to be filled with provisions. For she was faced with the unpleasant* fact that her larder was nearly empty. The jerked venison was almost gone; only a little flour and a few canned things remained. She had space for only small supplies on the "horse’s back, and there would he no luxuries among them. Their fare had been plain up, to this time; but from now on it was to consist of only such things as were absolutely necessaj-y to sustain life. She rode unarmed. Without Informing him of tire fact, the rifle had been left for Bruce. She did not expect for herself a rifle shot from ambush —for the simple reason that Simon had bidden otherwise—and Bruce might be attacked at any moment. She was dreaming dreams, that day. The talk with Bruce had given her fresh heart, rind as she rode down.the sunlit trail the future opened up entrancing vistas to her. Perhaps they yet could conquer, and that would mean re-establishment on the far-flung lands of her father. Matthew Folger had possessed a fertile farm also, and its green, pastures might still be utilized. It suddenly occurred to her that It would be of Interest to turn off the main trail, take a little dim path up the ridge that she had discovered years before, and look over these lands. The hour was early; besides, Bruce

would find her report of the greatest Interest. t She Jogged slowly along In the western faslrton—which means something quite different from army fushlon or sportsman fashion. Western riders do not post. Hiding Is not exercise to them; ’it is rest. They hang limp in the saddle, and all jar is taken up, as If by a spring, somewhere in the region of the floating ribs that only a physician can correctly designate. They never sit Ann, these western riders, and as a rule their riding is not a particularly graceful thing to watch.. But they do not eare greatly about grace as long qs tlie'y may encompass their ?£-;■ nillesbk' tray enough for-a-country, dance at flight. There are many other differences in western and eastern Tiding, one of them being the way in which the horse is mounted. Another difference is the riding habit. Linda had no trim riding trousers, with tall, glossy boots, red coat and stock. It was rather doubtful whether she knew sueff things existed. She did, however, wear a trim riding skirt of khaki and a middle blouse washed spotlessly clean by her own hands; and no one would have missed the other things. It is an in.disputable fact that she made a rather alluring picture—eyes bright and hair dark and strong arms bare to the elbow—as she came riding -down the pine-needle trail. She came to the opening of the dimmer trail and turned down it. She eiitened a still glen, and the color in her cheeks and the soft brown of her arms blended jvell with the new tints of the autumn leaves. Then she turned up a long ridge. The trait led through an old burn — a bleak, eerie place where the fire had swept down the forest, leaving only strange, black palings tiere and there -—and she stopped in the middle of it to look' down. The mountain world was laid out- below her as clearly as in a relief map. Her eyes lighted as its beauty and Its, fearsomeness went home to her, and her-kean eyes slowly s\vept over the surrounding hill tops. Then for a long moment she sat verystill in the saddle. A thousand feet distant, on the same ridge on which she rode, she caught Sight of another horse. It? hold her gaze, and in nn instant she discerned the rather startling fact .that it was saddled, bridled, and to a tree. ..Momentarily she thought "EKaFTfs rider-was proi-ably one of th--Turners... who_.wa,s-ut-present-at work on the old Folger farm; yet she knew at once the tilled lands were still too far distant for that. She studied closelUtthe maze.o£-iiifc€-adesliadow of the uuderbrush and iu a moment more dis-tln-.'iiishcd The fignre of tin* horseman. It was one bf the Turners—but he ’• was networking In the fields. Hexvas standing near the animal’s head, back to her, and his rifle lay in his arms. And then Linda understood. He Was simply guarding the trail down to Martin’s store.. Except for the fact that she had turned off the main trail by no possibility could she have seen him and escaped w hatever fate he had for her. She held hard on her fatuities and tried to. puzzle it out. She understood now why the Turners had not as yet made an attack upon them at their home. It wasn’t the Turner way to wage open warfare. They were the wolves that struck from ambush, the rattlesnakes that lunged with poisoned fangs from beneath the rocks. There was some security for her in the Folger homer but none Whatever here. There she had a strong man to fight for her. a loaded rifle, and under ordinary conditions the Turners could not hope to batter down the oaken door and overwhelm them without at least.some 'lossof life. For all they knew, Bruce had a large stock'rtf rifles and ammunition

She Wai Dreaming Dreams. —and the Turners did not look forward with pleasure to casualties In their ra'riks. The much" simpler way was to watch the trail. They had known that sooner or inter one of them would attempt to riderilown after either supplies or aid. Linda was a -mountain girl and she knew the mountain method* of procedure; and she knew quite well what she would have had to expect If she had not discovered the ambush In time. Sne didn’t think that the sentry would actually fire on her; he would merely shoot the horse from beneath her. It would be a simple feat by the least of the Turners—for these gaunt men were marksmen, if nothing else. It wouldn't be in accord with Simon’s plan or desire to leave her body lying

still on the trail. But the horse killed, flight would be Impossible, and what would truuspire thereafter she did riot dare to think. She had not forgntteu Simon's threat In regard to auy attempt to go down Into the settlements. She knew that It still held good. Os course, If Bruce made the excursion, the sentry’s turget would its somewhat different He would shoot him down as remorselessly as he would shatter a lynx from a tree top. The truth was that Linda had guessed just right. “It's the easiest j way," Simon had said. “They'll lie trying to get out in a very- ffew days. If the matt—shoot straight and to kill! •if 'tgmewSgm&wmsw mtmmm vhere, behind- the saddle.” * <. Linda turned softly, then started j back.* She did not even give a sec- j ond’s thought to the folly of trying to break through. She watched the sen- | tlnel over her shoulder and saw him | turn about. Far distant though he was, she could tell by the movement j he made that tie had discovered h'er. She was almost four hundred yards away by then, and she—lashed her I horse into a gallop. The man cried to her to halt, a sound that came dim' and strange through the burn, and ; then a bullet sent up a cloud of ashes ] a few feet to one sde. But the range j was too far even for the Turners, and | she only urged Her horse to a faster pace. Sli? How down tiie narrow trail, j turned into the main trail, and gal- j loped wildly toward home. But the sentry dltThot follow her. He valued . his precious life too much for that. ; He had no intention of ottering himself ns a target to Bruce's rifle us lie neared tile house. He headed buck to report to Simon. Young Bill —for such had been the identity of tiie sentry—found his chief In tiie large field not far distant from TvT l? fe'Ti r ucent id been confined. Tiie man was supervlsingfhe harvest of the l fall growth of alfalfa. The two meii i walked slowly away from the workers, toward tin.-, fringe of woods. “It looks as if we ll have to adopt . rough measures, after all,” Young Bill began. Sihion turned with 1 flushing face, j “Do you mean you let him get past i you-—and missed—him? Young Bill, II you’ve done that —•" “Won’t you wait till I’ve told* you Mow it happened? It wasn’t Bruce; it was Linda. For some reason I can’t dope-out, she went up in the hig Jaunt! hack of me„und saw mt—when I was too far off to shoot her horse. Then she rode back like a witch. They’ll not take that trail again.” “It means one of two tilings,” Simon said after a pause. "Due of thens-T-s : to-starvo-'em out. If won'4 -take longer Their supplies won't last forever. The j other is to call the clan and attack — tonight.” “And that means loss of life.” “Not necessarily. I don’t know how many gilns they’ve got. If any of you were worth your salt, you’d find out those things. I wish Dave was here.” And Simon spoke the truth for once in his life; he did miss Dave. Arid it I was not that there had been any love . lost Between them. But file-truth was —although Simon never would have admitted it —the weaker man’s cunning had been of the greatest aid to his chief. Simon needed it sorely now. “And we can't wait till tomorrow night—because we’ve got the moon then,” Y'oung Bill added. “Just anew moon, but it will prevent a surprise \ attack. I suppose you still have hopes ] of Dave corning b'iiekT’ "I don’t see why not. I’ll venture Jo say now lie's off on some good piece of business —doing something none of the rest of* you have .thought of. „ He’ll come riding back one days with sorifething. actually accomplished; I see no reason' for thinking that he’s dead. Bruce hasn't had any chance at him that I know of. But if I thought he was—there’d be no-more waiting, tear down that nest tonight.” Simon spoke in his usual voice—with the same emphasis, the same un-dertones-of passion. The truth, was that he had slowly become aware that Y'oung Bill was not giving-him his full attention, but rather was gazing off—unfamiliar speculation in his eyes—toward the forests beyond. Simon’s impulse was so follow the gaze; yet he would not yield to it. “Well?” he demanded. “I’m not talking to amuse-myself,’’ The younger man seemed to start. His eyes were half-closed; and there was a strange look of intentness about his facial lines when he turned hack Jo Simon. “You haven't missed any stock?" lib asked abruptly. Simon's eyes widened. “No. Why?” “Look there —ovev the forest.” Young Bill pointed. Simon shielded his eyes from the sunset glare and studied the blue-green skyline above | the fringe of pineal There were many ] grotesque,-black birds- wheeling on! slow wings above the spot. Now and then they dropped down, out of sight behind the trees. “Buzzards!” Simon exclaimed. “Yes,” Y’oung Bill answered quietly. “You see, It Isn’t much over a mile from Folger’s house —in the deep woods. There’s something dead there, Simon. And I think we'd better look to see what it Is.” “Y T ou think —” Then Simon hesitated and looked ngain with reddening eyes towflrrl the gliding buzzards. “I think—that maybe we’re going tmflrid Dave,” Young Bill replied.

"And remember—no man is to touch Linda.” *-■

(TO BE CONTINUED.) A Thought for tho Day. “You must endure, not blame, that which cannot ha altered."

Mrs. Clifford Starkweather

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