Judsonia weekly advance., 1918-04-17

Bill staked the tent beside the spring, fashioned rude fork out of pronged willow, and fitted handle 10 the scythe he had brought for the purpose. From dawn to dark he swung the keen blade in the heavy grass which carpeted the bottom. Behind him Hazel piled it in little mounds with a fork. She insisted on this, though it blistered her hands and brought furious pains to her back. If her man must strain every nerve she =ould tighten the burden with what ~'rength she had. And with two pair Of hands to the task. the piles of hay gathered thick on the meadow. When Bill judged that the supply reached twenty tons, he built rude sled with rack on it, and hauled in the hay with saddle horse.
 Amen !" said Bill. when he had emp tied the rack for the last time. and the hay rose in nc stack. "That's another load off my mind. can build cabin and stable in six feet of snow if l have to- but there would have been slim chance of having once storm hit us. We wouldn't go hum gry-there's moose enough to feed an army ranging in that low ground to the l South."
 There's everything that one needs almost, in the wilderness, isn't there?" Hazel observed collectively. "But still the law of life is awfully harsh, don't you think, Bill. Isolation is terribD thing when 1t Is so absolutely com plete. Suppose something went wrong? There's no help, and no mercy-abso- lutely none. Nature, when you get close to her. is so inexorable"
 Bill eyed her second. Then he put his arms around her, and patted her hair tenderly.
 "1s it getting on your nerves already, little person?" he asked. "Nothing's going to go wrong. I've been in wild country too often to make mistakes or get careless. Life isn't bit harsher here than in the human ant heaps. What does the old, settled country do to you when you have neither money nor job? It treats you worse than the worst the North can do; for, lacking the price, 1t denies you access to the abundance that mocks you in every shop window, and bars you out of the houses that line the streets. Here. everything needful is yours for the talk ing. No, little person, I don't think the law of life is nearly so harsh here as 1t is where the mob struggles for its daily bread. It's more open and aboveboard here; more up to the indi- yidual. But it's lonely sometimes. I guess that's what ails you"
 "Oh, pouf!" she denied. "I'm not lonely, so long as I've got you. But sometimes I think of something hap pening to you-sickness and accidents, and all that"
 Forget 1t" Bill exhorted. "That's the worst of living in this big. still country-it makes one interpretive. and so confoundedly conscious of what puny atoms we human beings are, after all. But there's less chance of sickness here than any place. Wait till l get that cabin built, with a big fireplace at one end. We'll be more comfortable, and things will look a little rosier. This thing of everlasting hurry and hard work gets on eyery- body's nerves"
 The best of the afternoon was still unspent when the haystacking termi- mated, and Bill declared holiday.
 When the fire had sunk to dull en- bers, and the stars were peeping shyly in the open flap of their tent, she whis- pered in his ear:
 You mustn't think Pm complaining or lonesome or anything, Billy-boy, when make remarks like did today. love you heap, and I'd be happy anywhere with you. And Pm really and truly at home in the wilderness. Only-only sometimes I have funny feeling; as if I were afraid. look up at these big mountains, and they seem to be scowliDg-as if we were tres passers or something"
 "I know" Bill drew her close to him. But that's just mood. I've felt that same sensation up here-a foolish, indeflnable foreboding. All the out of-the-way places of the earth produce that effect, if one is at all imaginative. It's the bigness of everything, and the eternal stiffness. It would be hard on the nerves to live here always But we're only after a stake-then all the pleasant places of the earth are open