The Mount Holly news. [volume] (Mount Holly, Burlington Co., N.J.) 1891-1942, 1910-04-12
The White
Spruce
1t Brought Barbara and the
Young Forester Together.
By CLARISSA r1ACKIE.
Copyright, 1910, by American Press
Association.

Barbara Owen parted the flaps of
the tent and drank in with delighted
eyes the scene before her. The little
camp perched almost on the edge of
the precipice commanded a magnif-
cent view of the snow topped Cascade
range blushing under the first rays of
the rising sun.
Barbara went to another tent and
called her father He replied by a
yawn. followed by a racking cough.
Then she FASTENED to third tent and
prepared breakfast.
Presently James Owen came forth.
Hungry as a bear. Bah" he said.
1.-THE very smell of that coffee makes
me feel ten years younger
81 wish the taste of it would make
you feel ten times better" said Bar
bara as she placed the meal on the
table
Barbara chatted brightly during the
meal and when it was over completed
her household tasks, and. leaving her
father swinging in a hammock among
the trees with book between his thin
fingers, she disappeared in the forest.
The path she trod was family de-
fined by disturbed brown needles, and
it followed course marked by high
branched trees, winding in and out.
skirting a thicket of dwarfed spruce
or leading over roughly bridged gully
to broad wagon trail
Before she reached the wagon trail
Barbara turned abruptly to the left.
Here giant spruce lifted naked
white shaft high above the surround
ing trees of the forest
Crowding about the spruce was a
thicket of young hemlock, ragged and
starved for want of light and air.
There were an opening in the thicket
needles. Dry eyed and fearless, Bar
bara sat down in the dimness and tried
to face a future that was ominously
near-a future when her father should
be laid beside her mother in another
grave under the tall spruce.
A branch cracked under firm tread
and then another mans low whis-
tie came nearer to Barbara's retreat,
and presently the man himself came
into view among the distant tree
trunks. Clad in brown khaki, like her.
self, with leather puttees, blue flannel
shirt open at strong brown throat
and canvas hat tossed back on
rumpled head. Barbara recognized the
young man as one Of the foresters pa
trolling the governments forest re-
serve wherein their camp was pitched.
She had met these men occasionally
along the wagon trail. and her father
had fallen into conversation with one
Of the sturdy, bronzed woodsmen and
afterward had spoken enthusiastically
of the splendid work in which they
were engaged.
Barbara watched him with interest,
confident that he would not penetrate
into the thicket
When he came to the spruce he STOP
ped suddenly, leaned back and squint-
ed his eyes Mt the white shaft above
his head He knelt down and exam
ined the young hemlocks and once
more drew out his notebook Barba-
ra. silent and brown, blending with the
background Of brown trunks, was un-
observed until the forester drew his
Ratchet and cut a deep incision in the
spruce tree. The girl was on her feet
in an instant.
Stop she cried. Don't do thatr
The man started and peered as If
some brown wood fairy had arisen be-
fore his bewildered eyes. Barbara
laughed shal1ily.
ut sounds like q school grafton,
'Woodman, spare that tree;' but, you
see, my mother is buried here-and-
and-the tree marks her grave"
The man had removed his hat and
looked at her with respectful attention
Barbara noted that he was young, per.
haps thirty, with a crop of thick, sun,
burned hair and a handsome, well tan
ned face lighted by keen dark eyes.
Il am very sorry" He hesitated 81
would not do anything to pain you;
but, you see, it is my duty to take
care Of the forest. For the safety of
the other ard younger trees this dead
spruce should come down"
Barbara's eyes filed with tears as
she bowed her head against the white
| trunk of the spruce I'VE thought ii
would be quite undisturbed here In
| the forest" she sobbed. There are
only three of us-mother here-she
died suddenly; father, back at the
camp, where he is trying to regain his
health in the open, and l. l dare not
tell father about the tree. He loves
to come here when he is strong enough
The trees sing overhead
The forester stepped forward and
placed finger on her sleeve. "Please
do not cry" he said awkwardly. wi