Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1910-05-08

T7HERE is something in the far North that gives
challenge to strong souls and winnows away
the chaff that is weak u there the silence
is deep that ones footsteps as loud the
march of city; the distances are SO wide that
mans character must speak loud if it would be
heard at ALL and the air is so KEEN uncOmprOm1s-
ing that mans character must speak truth. No
chance for concealment is there; the primitive facts
as body with body 1t is only when men thicken and
cities spring up that people can hide behind their
own flesh.
Something of this sort Lars Andersen was thinking
he rode with his dogs to Carson, the last spot
where he would see faces for many month He went
well with the frozen silence of the North-a huge
steady eyes, straight gaze and massive shoulders.
Twenty years before, STRIPPING lad, he had left
court to follow the lure of the Westa lure that had
carried him three thousand miles over seas and then
three thou sand miles westward, and then north,
north. 1t gold he seeking, and if he had
found but little he had found something that was
better. He was happy in his long walks and rides.
fearlessly happy when he fought the bitter cold.
struggled with his dogs, bore down men who opposed
him His seeking was not done: There were places
what, but something to seek. something to find. He
did not mind being alone. yet now and then his own
kind drew him. and tonight, as his dogs caught the
sound of the village and increased their speed, his
feeling matched theirs.
Carson the last village where moose hunters
got their mail the point where gold seekers laid in
final provisions for themselves and their dogs Here
Lars meant to stay Sunday with the postmaster
and ShOpkeeper, John Peters, before he went on
other venture nOrthward
A S he pushed open the door of John Peters cabin
4 he thought he heard a trembling sob. 1t wa not
the way of John Peters to sob There he sat by the
kitchen table, mending strap, under the kerosene
lamp, strong looking man, but querulous and
disappointed. He stretched forward his head and
peered under heavy brows at the newcomer.
We'll, Lars" he said heartily, Il heard you
would come this month";
Lars sat down and contentedly looked about the
familiar place. Then his wandering eyes leaped
and steadied; for there in the corner sat who
was unfamiliar girl whose sad face dropped in the
lamplight like flower, whose hair was yellow as
the gold Lars had been seeking for many years
MY daughter, said Peters briefly.
CT didn't know you had daughter, STAN
mered Lars.
We'll, you know it now-and do 1! Here l
have kept her down there in Seattle since her mother
died; gave her good schooling tool And then l
sent for her to comfort in my old age. Ever since
it is nothing but crying to get back to her mothers
people. Says it is lonely here. Do you call this
lonely Lars? Why, you hundred people
some days. if you count the Indians. Lonely! l
don't see how she call it lonely when the girls
come in to copy her Clothes and have to beat the
men off to keep them from marrying her by main
force. l should have let her stay in Seattle that
my mistake. l suppose she will be marrying
one of these fellows that's turned soft her
you could put them in molasses can and will do
my own cooking again.
The girl had covered her face with her hands.
Lars rose and went to her. Softly he took away
her hands and looked straight into her eyes, 1t
fashion not followed by the young men of Seattle.
and the girl gasped.
You must have patience" said Lars kindly.