The Mena weekly star., 1917-09-13

aicoNe oU the dining room After that she began to make inquiries. Neither clerk nor manager knew aught of Char lie Benton. They were both fin their nrst season there. They advised bec to ask the storekeeper
 "MacDougal will know" they were agreed. He knows everybody around here and everything that goes on."
 The storekeeper. q genial. round bod led Scotchman, had the information she desired.
 Charlie Benton?" said he. "No; he'll be at his camp up the lake. He was in three or four days back. I mind now he said he'd be down Thurs day. That's today. But he isn't here yet, or his boatd be by the wharf yonder"
 Are there any passenger boats that call there?' she asked.
 MacDougal shook his head.
 Not reg'lar. There's a gas boat goes t the head of the lake now an then. She's away now Ye might hire launch. Jack Fyfe's camp tenders about to get under way But ye wouldna care to go on her. I'm think in. She'll be loaded wi lumberjacks every man drunk as lord, most like. Maybe BentOn'll be in before night"
 She went back to the hotel But St. Allwoods fin it's duel capacity of health and pleasure resort was a gilded shell. making d brave outward show, but capitalizing chiefly lake. mountains and hot mineral springs Her room was bare, cheerless place. She did not want to sit and ponder. Too much real grief lowered in the immediate background of her life. It Is not al ways sufficient to be young and alive To sit still aud thnk-that way lay tears and despondeney. So she went out and walked down the road and out upon the wharf which jutted 200 yards into the lake
 After a time she retraced her steps. Nearing the halfway slip, she saw that Il wagon from which goods were being unloaded blocked the way. A dozen men were stringing in from the road, bearing bundles and bags and rolls of blankets. They were big, burly men, carrying themselves with a reckless swing. with trousers cut off midway between knee and ankle so that they reached just below the upper of their high topped, heavy laced boots. Two or three were singing. All appeared unduly happy, talking loudly, with deep laughter. One threw down his burden and executed brief clog. Splinters flew where the sharp calks bit into the wharf planking, and his companions applauded
 It dawned upon Stella Benton that these might be Jack Fyfe's drunken loggers, and she withdrew until the way should be clear, vitally interested because her brother was logging man and wondering if these were the hu- man tools he used in his business, if these were the sort of men with whom he associated. They were a rough lot, and some were very drunk. With the manifestations of liquor she had but the most shadowy acquaintance, but n fool not to comprehend this.
 Then they began filing down the gangway to the boats deck. One slip ped and came near falling Into the wa ter whereat his fellows howled glee- fully Precariously they negotiated the slanting passage, all but one. He sat him down at the slip head on his bundle and began a quavering chant.
 The wagon backed out, and the way was clekr save for the logger sitting on his blankets. wailing his lugubrious song. From below his fellows urged him to come along. A bell changed in the pilot house The exhaust of a gas engine began to sputter through the boats side. From her after deck a man hailed the logger sharply, and when his call was unheeded he ran lightly up the slip. A short, squarely built man he was, as light on his feet IS a dancing master.
 Hurry aboard, Mike; we're wait lngr' he said impatiently.
 The logger rose, waved his hand airi- " and turned as if to retreat down the wharf. The other caught him by the arm and spun him face to the slip.
 Come on. Slater" he said evenly T have no time to fool around"
 The logger drew back his fist He was a fairly big man. But if he had in mind to deal a blow it failed, for the other tucked and caught him with both arms around the middle He lift Id the logger clear of the wharf, hoist ed him to the level of his breast and deaved him down the slip as one would throw a sack of bran.
 The mans body bounced on the in cline, rolled, slid, tumbled till at length he brought up against the boats guard and all that saved him ducking was the prompt extension of several stout arms, which clutched and hauled him to the flush after deck. He sat on his launches, blinking. Then he laughed So did the man at the top of the slip. but the roar of him who had taken that inglorious descent rose loudest of all. an explosive liar, har, harw
 Hey, Jack" he shouted. Maybe v c'n throw m blankets down, too. while VT at it.
 The man at the slip head caught up inc roll poised 1t high and cast it from him with quick twist of his body. The wooden missile flew like a well put shot and caught its owner fair in the breast, tumbling him backward on the deck, and the Homeric laughter rose in