Wood County reporter. [volume] (Grand Rapids [i.e. Wisconsin Rapids], Wis.) 1857-1923, 1912-09-05

was 10 lie quietly N lis sleeping Jag
and wait until the morning.
So soon as the first indication of
dawn showed over the crack of the
door, he slipped quietly out Of his
sleeping bag and without disturbing
the others drew on his boots, put on
his heavy fur coat and cap and gloves,
slung his Winchester and his snow
shoes over his shoulder, and without
stopping for a bite to eat, softly open
ed the door, stepped out and closed it
after him. 1t was quite dark in the
bottom Of the canon, although a few
pale CLEANS overhead indicated the
near approach of day. It was quite
still, too. There were clouds on the
mountain top heavy with threat Of
wind and snow.
The way was not difficult, the direc-
ton Of it, that is. Nor was the going
very difficult at first; the snow was
frozen and the crust was strong enough
to bear him. He did not need his
snow shoes, and, indeed, would have
had little chance to use them in the
narrow, broken, rocky pass. He had
slipped away from the others because
he wanted to be first to see the man
and the woman. He did not want any
witnesses to that meeting. They
would have come on later, Of course:
but he wanted an hour or two in pri-
vate with Enid and Newbold without
any interruption. His conscience was
not clear. Nor could he settle upon a
course Of action.
How much Newbold knew Of his
former attempt to win away his wife,
how much of what he knew he had
told Enid Maitland, Armstrong could
not surmise. Putting himself into
Newbold's place and imagining that
the engineer had possessed entire in
formation, he decided that he must
have told everything to Enid Matt
land as soon as he had found out the
quasi relation between her and Arm
strong. And Armstrong did not believe
The woman he loved could be in any
bOdy's presence a month without tell
ing something about him. Still, it was
possible that Newbold knew nothing.
and that he told nothing therefore.
The situation was paralyzing to
man Of Armstrong; decided, determin-
ed temperament He could not decide
upon the line of conduct he should
pursue. His course in this, the most
critical emergency he had ever faced.
must be determined by circumstances
Of which he felt with savage resent
ment he was in some measure the
sport He would have to leave to
chance what ought to be subject to his
will. OF only one thing he was sure
he would stop at nothing, murder. ly-
ing; nothing, to win the woman and
to settle his score with that man.
There was really only one thing he
could do. and that was to press on
up the canon. He had no idea how
far it might be or how long a journey
he would have to make before he
reached that shelf on the high hill
where stood that hut in which she
dwelt. As the crow flies, it could not
be great distance, but the canon
zigzagged through the mountains with
as many curves and angles as a light
ming flash. He plodded on, therefore,
with furious haste, recklessly speed.
ing over places where a misstep in
the snow or a slip on the icy rocks
would have meant death or disaster to
him.
He had gone about an hour, and had
perhaps made four miles from the
camp when the storm burst upon him.
1t was now broad day, but the sky was
filled with clouds and the air with
driving snow. The wind whistled down
the canon with terrific force. 1t was with
difficulty that he made any headway at
all against it. It was a local storm;
If he could have looked through the
snow he would have discovered calm
ness on the top of the peaks. 1t was
one of those sudden squalls of wind
and snow which rage with terrific
force while they last, but whose rage
was limited, and whose violent dura-
ton would be short.
A less determined man than he
would have bowed to the inevitable
and sought some shelter behind
rock until the fury of the tempest
was spent but there was no storm
that blew that could stop this man
so long as he had strength to drive
against it. So he bent his head to the
fierce blast and struggled on. There
was something titanic and magnificent
about this iron determination and per
sistence of Armstrong. The two most
powerful passions which move human
ity were at his service; love led him
and hate drove him. And the two
were so intermingled that it was diff
fiCult to say which predominated. now
one and now the other. The resultant
of the two forces, however, was an
onward move that would not be de-
MED.
His fur coat was soon covered with
snow and ice, the sharp needles of the
storm cut his face wherever it was ex-
posed. The wind forced its way
through his garments and chilled him
to the bone. He had eaten nothing
since the night before, and his vital
ity was not at its food, but he pressed
on, and there was something grand
in his indomitable progress. Excel
sior!
Back in the hut Kirkby and Maitland
sat around the fire waiting most impa-
tiently for the wind to blow itself out
and for that snow to stop falling
through which Armstrong struggled
/ forward. As he followed the windings
Of the canon, not daring TO ascend to
/ the summit on either wall and seek
short cuts across the range, he was
/ sensible that he was constantly rising.
! There were many indications to his
experienced mind; the decrease in the
| height of the surrounding pines, the
Increasing rarity Of the icy air, the
{ the postmaster. said he had not sold
a single stamp in i've weeks nor had
! he received any incoming or outgoing