The Green Forest tribune., 1916-04-07

case, with lighted candle beside it, and for a crazy half-second I had a shock, Murray-the minute hand was pointing to four and the hour hand to seven!"
 Still don't see the miraculous sig nificance," said the Photographer
 Don't you? It was only another of the condolences, of course While I stood staring at the clock Anson came in with Griffith's tool kit I've got to tinker her again. he said Shes got so she keeps Pacific time with one hand and eastern with the other Then l understood that he had been tinker ing with it and had merely gone over to Grif1ith's tent for the tools" r Well" said Grislow again, what of it? The clock struck seven, you say; but it also struck four.''
 Brouillards smile tilted his curling mustaches to the sardonic angle.
 "The combination was what called the turn, Grizzy. Today happens to be my twenty-eighth birthday-the end of the fourth cycle of seven."
 By George!" calculated the hydrog- rapher in mock perturbation, sitting up so suddenly that he dropped his | pipe into the ashes of the fire. Tn that case, according to what seems to be the well-established custom, some thing is due to fall in right now!"
 q have been looking for it all day" returned Brouillard calmly. It was Murray Grislow who finally | rang the curtain call on the prolonged | talk
 Say, man! do you know that it is after ten o'clock?" he demanded, hold ing the face of his watch down to the glow of the dying embers. You may sit here all night, if you like, but it s me for the blankets. Now, what in the name of a guilty conscience is that?'
 As it chanced, they were both fac ing toward the lower end of the val 1 ley when the apparition flashed into view. In the deepest of the shadows at the mouth of the gorge, where the torrenting Niquoia strengthened itsel momentarily before entering upon its I plunging race through the mountain barrier a beam of white light fiickereC unsteadily for a fraction of a second Then it became g. lgmino2us yl9 il7l2. Rencil tf trace zlgZag line up sa-ha,,w inc Asa course of the river, acrosS to the foes hill spur where the camp of the recla nation service vanguard was pitched and so on around to the base of the Chigringo. For certain other seconds it remained quiescent, glowing bale fully like the eye of some fabled mon ster searching for it's prey. Then ii was gone.
 Grislow's comment took the form ot half-startled exclamation.
 "By love! wouldn't that give you a fit of the creepies ?-this far from civi | lization and dynamo? What are you calling it?"
 "Your guess is as good as mine, J was the halfabsent reply. Brouillard had got upon his feet and was but toning his many-pocketed shooting coat.
 I'm going to take little hike down yOuuoT lOI luVeSLlSaClOu purposes. Want to come along?"
 But the mapper of watersheds was yawning sleepily. Not on your tin type" he refused. '1m going to cork it orf in me 'ammick.'
 It was only short mile from the camp on the inward slopes of the east ern foothills to the mouth of the outlet gorge, across which Brouillard could already see, in mental provision, the great gray wall of the projected Mi quoia dam-his future work-curving majestically from the broken shoulder of Chigringo to the opposing steeps of Jacks mountain. The half-grown moon, tilting now toward the skyline of the western barrier, was leaving the canyon portal in deepest gloom. Picking his way judiciously because the trail was new to him, Brouillard came in due time to the descending path among the spruces and scrub pines leading to the western outlook