Connecticut western news., 1918-02-07

B
! ing speedily that time flew when she
/ busted herself at some task in the in
tervals of delving in Roaring Bills
library.
On one of these days Hazel came into
the kitchen and found Bill piling tow
/ els, napkins, and a great quantity of
other soiled articles on an outspread
= tablecloth.
"Well," she inquired, "what are you
going to do with those?"
"Take 'em to the laundry" he
laughed. collect your dirty buds, and
bring them forth"
'Laundry!' Hazel echoed. 1t seemed
rather a far-fetched joke.
"SureI You don't suppose we can
get along forever without having
things washed, do your" he replied. 81
don't mind Homework, but I do draw
the line at laundry, job when don't
have to do 1t. Go on-get your
clothes"
So she brought out her accumulation
of garments, and laid them on the pile.
Bill tied up the four corners of the
tablecloth.
SNOW" said he, '1et's see IL we can't
fit you out for a more or less extended
walk. You stay in the house altogether
too much these days. That's bad bust
ness. Nothing like exercise in the
/ fresh air."
Thus In q few minutes Hazel Jared
forth, wrapped in Bills fur coat, flap
cared cap on her head, and on her feet
several pairs of stockings inside moe
casins that Bill had procured from
some mysterious source day or two
before.
The day was sunny, albeit the air
was hazy with multitudes of floating
frost particles, and the tramp through
the forest speedily brought the roses
back to her cheeks.
Bill carried the bundle of linen on
his back, and trudged steadily through
the woods. But the riddle of his desti-
nation was soon read to her, for two
mile walk brought them out on the
shore of fair-sized lake, on the far
Their side of which doomed the conical
lodges of an Indian camp.
"You sabe now?" said he as they
crossed the ice. "This bunch generally
comes in here about this time, and
stays till spring. / get the squaws to
wash for me. Ever see Mr.. Indian on
his native heathT
Hazel never had, and she was duly
interested, even if a trifle shy of the
red brother who stared so fixedly. She
entered lodge with Bill, and listened
to him make laundry arrangements in
broken English with a withered old
beldame whose features resembled a
ham that had hung overlong in the
smokehouse. Two or three blanketed
bucks squatted by the fire that sent its
blue smoke streaming out the apex or
the lodge.
Heap fine squawl" one suddenly adj
dressed Bill. "Where you ketchumT"
Bill laughed at Hazels confusion.
"Away off," He gestured southwark,
and the Indian grunted some unintel-
ligible remark in his own tongue-at
which Roaring Bill laughed again.
Before they started home Bill sue
ceeded in purchasing, after much talk,
a pair of moccasins that Hazel con-
coded to be work of art, what with
the dainty pattern of beads and the
ornamentation of colored porcupine
quilts. Her feminine soul could not
cavil when Bill thrust them In the
pocket Of her coat, even If her mind
was set against accepting any peace
tokens at his hands.
In the nearing sunset they went
home through the frost-bitten woods,
where the snow crunched and squeaked
under their feet, and the branches
broke off with pistol-like snap when
they were bent aside.
A hundred yards from the cabin Bill
challenged her for race. She refused
to run, and he picked her up bodily,
and ran with her to the very door. He
held her a second before he set her
down, and Hazel's face whitened. She
could feel his breath on her cheek, and
she could feel his arms culver, and the
rapid beat of his heart. For an instant
she thought Roaring Bill Wagstaff was
about to make the colossal mistake Of
trying to kiss her.
But he set her gently on her feet and
opened the door. And by the time he
had his outer clothes off and the fires
started up he was talking whimsically
about their Indian neighbors, and Ha-
eel breathed more freely. The clear
est impression that she had, aside from
her brief panic, was Of his strength. He
had run with her as easily as If she
had been q child.
After that they went out many times
together. Bill took her hunting, initi-
ated her into the mysteries Of rifle
shooting, and the manipulation of a
six-shooter. He taught her to walk on
snowshoes, lightly over the surface Of
the crusted snow, through which other
wise she fioundered. A sort of truce
arose between them, and the days drift
ed by without untoward incident. Bill