The Washington herald., 1913-12-17
DAILY SHORT STORY

But Barty did not start to pack inn
mediately. He went up the timber trail
toward the shack he had built for him
self four years back. Every log In 1t he
had laid himself, every rock in the huge
fireplace he had carried there. There
was the long sheft of books over the
couch In the corner. with the wide east
ern window where the sun Weakened him
daily On the wall over the rude desk
was her picture. Madse Jocelyn's.
He stared at II now. moodily. There
was beauty In every line OF II. In the
fair, upcuriing hair, the curved lips, ths
cool, interested gaze OF the eyes. They
were blue eyes, blue as Ice.
He had not told Jerry all. not how she
had sent him out to Colorado to put up
his fight alone, with the half promise IL
him. Now she sent him her wedding
cards, and ne had wanted to take ths
, first train east and kill the man who
had won her from him.
He turned away and looked out of
the open window, down the long slope
OF the mountainside. there where the
break in the timber showed the little
white chimney OF Betty vans house.
Betty had always seemed as much
part Of the general landscape as the
birds or the flowers.
She had taught at Thunder Creek
schoolhouse for two terms now, riding
the six miles down to the valley on her
pony every day. He know that she had
taken up the claim her shack stood on
He knew that somewhere, back home in
Kansas, she had mother and father, and
lot OF small sisters and brothers, ami
that this was her way of getting the
most out OF life She loved the bigness
/ of the mountains, and the splendid peacs
they brought. She had been the first
to make Barty see how they had healed
his soul as well as his body.
But they had been only pals. Always,
when he said his silent prayer before
the picture over his desk. he added a
remark to his own conscience, that
Betty was his mountain pal, not his
sweetheart
He had ridden with her miles and miles.
He had dropped in to sit by her hre at
sundown, and have a cup OF tea brewed
by Betty. He had carried down his books,
and even sent often for new ones he
wanted her to read and share with him.
He had felt vaguely a sense OF personal
loss on the days when her place was
closed and she had gone away back home
to Kansas at vacation time Yet he had
never associated love with Betty some
way, not the wonderful, idealistic love
that wove itself about Madge as the
clouds around a mountain peak
And Madge had sent him her wedding
cards Suddenly from the white chimney
there curled up a little unfurling pennant
of smoke. Betty had lighted her sun
set fire. He stared at IL, beckoning to
him like a white hand. Then he lifted
down the picture from above the desk
and laid it thoughtfully on the ashes in
the rock fireplace.
Want a cup OF tea, Barty?' called
Betty. She was on her knees down at
the spring when he rode up, her long
brown braids falling Indian fashion on
each side of her tanned, joyous face
I'm just getting the water to brew some.
Can't you stayT'
Barty stood over her. tall, helpless,
full of a new strangeness. for somehow
he had just found out that this Betty.
this little mountain pal Of his. was worth
all the world, and before he knew what
he was going to do, how he was going to
tell her, he had reached down, and drew
her up into his arms with fierce lone
some hunger.
Betty, my Betty" he said. don't you
know I've come to stay? Don't you think
our shacks are too far apart, Betty. don't
you? I'm going to ride down to the Eddy
tonight and bring back that blessed old
minister down there. and you're coming
up home with me, tonight, hear me-
Betty. I've been wanting you, and
nunEering after you for two years"
Betty sighed, and snuggled closer to his
shoulder, her lips parted in the sttle
comicaI smile she had when she listened
to Bartys troubles.
TT took you 30 long to ind all that out.
didn't IT, dearr'