Belington progressive. [volume] (Belington, W. Va.) 1912-1927, 1915-12-23

The foreman looked at him inquir-
ingly.
That left bank of the slough up
there is in the form of ridge. Don't
you think we could set crew at it at
low tide and dig it through, turning
the water into the field yonder? That
would leave the slough empty here for
the time between high tides. Could
you get the timbers out in a few
hours?
Daily's experienced eye had already
taken in every detail of the possible
ties as Sandry talked.
That's good scheme, Mr. Sandry,'
he said slowly. II believe it'll work"
So 1t was that the first practical sug-
gestion of the new owner was set into
action.
The whole crew of the camp was
brought out of the hills and set to
work and the damaged rollway was re-
paired as good as new, the break in
the west bank filled, the slough rum
ming full again and nothing to show
for the trouble but the flooded field Of
tules.
Under Walter Sandry's cool de-
meanor there was small glow of
satisfaction, a sense of having in
way redeemed himself
At supper time Siletz moving be-
tween the tables. laughed to herself.
softly, and her dark eyes under the
little shadow of her parted hair held
sparkling CLEAN as if she had seen
that conflict and enjoyed it.
"Siletz,' said the owner, coming in.
suddenly from the east porch after the
men had tramped heavily away to the
bunkhouse, whom do you know out
side this camp?"
She was alone in the big spotless
kitchen, her sleeves rolled up from hen
arms, slim and brown with a smooth
color that was of the suns giving.
Outside the camp" she asked, turn
ing to him for moment, stopped in
some task of the aftermath of the
meal, 'why-nobody."
Don't you ever go down to Toledo?'
Sandry was leaning in the doorway,
his bright blue eyes upon her.
Sometimes"
Have you no friends there? No
girl friends?'
She shook her head and he noticed
the clean profile, the shape of the
| small pointed chin, the good forehead
| conflicting with vague suggestion of
| feeting wild things in the velvety
eyes.
rs there no one with whom you as
sociate outside the camp? Think"
Suddenly there passed over her fea-
lures quick change. He could liken
it to nothing but wind on the surface
of water. just breath of change.
only the Preacher" she said with
swift slurring of softness in her
voice.
THE Preacher"
You don't know him. He only comes
sometimes. He was here just before
you came"
who is he?" asked Sandry curious
ly.
Il don't know. Nobody knows. But
love him.H
The Preacher he said to himself a
little later in the bare south room I'M
der the dripping caves. HIN! The
Bible-of course"
With new interest he picked up
the quaint old book of Holy Writ and
let it fall open in his hands as it had
a way of doing.
Out from that marvellous song OF an
inspired soul. the Psalms. there looked
his answer, as he was to know in an
other day. the truest answer that could
have been given to his question:
Who shall ascend into the hill of the
Lord? Or who shall stand in his holy
place? He that hath clean hands and
pure heart; who hath not lifted up his
soul unto vanity. nor sworn deceitfully
With an odd feeling of truth struck
from the page he closed the book and
laid it gently down on the white cloth.