The Hood River glacier. (Hood River, Or.) 1889-1933, 1908-01-23
The End of
The Trail.
By JEANETTE WILSON.
copyrighted. 1907. by Jessie Morgan.

NJ last Helen had started. The res
OF the family after seeing her Off
opened their comfortable cottage a,
The shore and awaited Developments
They expected the worst to happen
Tor Helen, their tenderly and punctil
iously reared daughter, had broken
away from domestic restraint and put
INTO action an incomprehensible i'm
pulse to spend her vacation In the
backwoods of Maine.
"A reckless and decidedly unlady
like procedure" Mr.. Wright charac.
terized it.
Mrs. Wright expressed her disap.
proval more tentatively.
Won't there be very rough men
there, Helen?"
Nonsense, motherr' was Helen's
emphatic reply. "Only really nice men
go OF to the woods-men who love fish.
Ing and hunting and beautiful scenery
and-and things like that. But we
girls shant have anything to do with
the men anyway. We're going to have
camp by ourselves, you know. and
go off on long trips with the guides"
with the guldesp' gasped Mrs.
Wrigat. Have you lost all sense Of
p:oprlety, Helen"
Guides, mother DEAR" explained
Helen good naturedly, "are nothing but
trees as men walking They haven't
the least idea who's trailing on be-
hind them. Men, women or children
It's all the same to them"
"A theory more ingenious than con-
Vincing," remarked her father soto
voce.
a week elapsed before any word
came from Helen. 1t took the form Of
postal and ran as follows:
This is heavenly place. Been on
on several day trips. Have a guaran-
teed Indigenous, danger proof guide.
Very handsome, though and fairly in
telllgent for wOodsman. Start today
on four or five days jaunt over the
mountains. Don't worry about me.
Never was happier in my life"
In spite OF the buoyant cheerfulness
of Helen's message Mr.. Wright looked
worried, and his little wife shook her
head dubiously.
I'D give anything to see her this
minute she sighed, but a merciful
Providence spared her the shock of 1t,
for at the actual moment Of her moth
er's sollcitude Helen, her immaculate
khaki skirt bedragged and mud stain
ed, her stylish buckskins discolored
and caked with bog soil, her sunburned
face smeared with fly lotion, was sitting
beside a spring in the woods hungrily
devouring a luncheon Of pork sand.
wiches and doughnuts. Incidentally,
too, she was admiring the picturesque
attitude Of the guide as he stirred the
coffee bubbling merrily In tin pail
suspended on an improyised crane over
fire Of brushwood. AS he filed a tin
cup with the hot, fragrant beverage
and passed 1t to her the sleeve of his
flannel shirt slipped back slightly, and
Helen was amazed at the whiteness Of
his arm In contrast with the copper
colored wrists and hands. She almost
voiced her surprise, but checked her.
self In time to spare him embarrass-
ment.
As the days went on Helen utilized
every opportunity to learn what
thoughts lay behind this mans as
sumed mask of self effacement, for
even woodsman, she argued, must
have ambitions and some powers of
Imagination. That he was tender
hearted she discovered inadvertently.
She would never forget the thrill she
had felt when one morning as they
We're padding silently and rhythmical-
ly down Clear river, she at the bow
and the guide at the stern, he had
whispered suddenly: There's a deer.
Sit perfectly still"
Nearer and nearer the unconscious
little creature they stole until sudden
ly he raised his head, his whole body
tent with alertness, and stood looking
at them curiously. Then, with snort
of fear, he leaped into the bushes and
disappeared through the cracking un-
derbrush into the forest For mo-
ment no one spoke. Then Helen turn
ed suddenly around, almost overturn-
ing the canoe In her eagerness.
do men shoot those exquisite crea-
tures?' she asked, looking at the guide
with wide, incredulous eyes.
"Some do" he answered laconically.
"Td rather put my arms around them
myself"
Helen breathed deep sigh of relief
and took up the paddle again. She was
unaware that after this the danger
proof guide" the while his keen eyes
scanned the river on either side for
telltale sway Of the bushes. watched
with no less intentness the graceful
swing of her rounded white arms. Nor
did she guess that the contrary wind
against which they were struggling
seemed to him a special favor. as 1t
blew back her wavy hair, in color sug-
gestive of the bright tawny coat of
deer, but far more lustrous.
On the day set to turn back on the
trail the rain fell in steady down
pour, and they were obliged to wait
over till the sun should shine again.
Late In the afternoon. there being
some feeble signs of clearing. Helen
proposed fishing trip on the lake. The
rest Of the party vetoed the suggestion
Immediately, but Helen donned her
sweater, tied OH her cap with long
brown veil-an unconsciously becoming
effect--and announced that she was 60
ing anyway.
After rowing out some distance the
guide noticed that her rod still lay In
the bottom of the boat.
''Your hook is baited, Miss Wright"
he said courteously.
"Oh, bother the bait~ returned Hell
Ell Unexpectedly. Isn't it etiquette
ever to go out rowing aust for the fun
Of It? Must one always fishT'
Though the guide made no comment,
Helen was Sure she detected twinkle