The Fayette falcon. (Somerville, Tenn.) 190?-current, 1918-03-08

the chill gone from her body, she be-
slowed a curious glance on her sur
roundlngs.
There was furniture of a sort I'M
known to her, tables and chairs fash
Toned by hand with infinite labor and
rude skill, massive In structure, uphol-
stored with the skins of wild beasts
common to the region. Upon the walls
hung pictures, dainty black-and-white
prints, and water color or two. And
between the pictures were nailed heads
Of mountain sheep and goat, the ant
lers Of deer and caribou. Above the
fireplace spread the huge shovel horns
of moose, bearing across the prongs
shotgun and fishing rods. The center
Of the floor-itself, as she could see,
Of hand-smoothed logs-was lightened
with a great black and red and yellow
rug of curious weave. Covering up
the bare surface surrounding 1t were
bearskins, black and brown. Her feet
rested In the fur Of monster silver
tip, fur thicker and softer than the
pile of any carpet ever fabricated by
man. All around the walls ran shelves
filled with books. A guitar stood In
one corner, a mandolin in another.
Except for the dust that had gath
cred lightly in its owners absence, the
place was as neat and clean as II the
housemaid had but gone over II. Hazel
shrugged her shoulders. Roaring Bill
Wagstaff became, If anything, more of
an enigma than ever, in the light of his
dwelling. She recollected that Cariboo
Meadows had regarded him askance,
and wondered why.
He came in while her gaze was still
rowing from one object to another, and
threw his wet outer clothing, boy
fashion. on the nearest chair.
SWELL" he said, were here"
"Please don't forget, Mr.. Wagstaff,"
she replied coldly, that would much
prefer not to be here"
He stood a moment regarding her
with his odd smile. Then he went into
the adjoining room. Out Of this he
presently emerged, dragging small
steamer trunk. He opened 1t, got down
on his knees, and paved over the con-
tents. Hazel, looking over her shoul-
der, saw that the trunk was filled with
woman's garments. and sat amazed.
"Say, little person." Bill finally re-
marked, at looks to me as II you could
outfit yours, completely right here"
81 don't know that / care to deck
myself in another woman's hnery,
thank you" she returned perversely.
'Now, see here" Roaring Bill turned
reproachfully; "see here"
he grinned to himself then, and went
again into the other room, returning
with small, square mirror. He plant
ed himself squarely In front Of her,
and held up the glass. Hazel took one
look at her reflection, and she could
have struck Roaring Bill for his au-
daelty. She had not realized what
an altogether disreputable appearance
normally good-looking young woman
could acquire In two weeks on the
trail. with no toilet accessories and
only the clothes on her back. She
tried to snatch the mirror from him,
but Bill eluded her reach, and laid the
glass on the table.
"You1l feel a whole lot better able to
cope with the situation" he told her
smilingly, "when you get some decent
clothes on and your hair fixed. That's
woman. And you don't need to feel
squeamish about these things. This
trunks got a history, let me tell you.
A bunch Of simon-pure tenderfeet
strayed into the mountains west Of
here a couple Of summers ago. There
were two women In the bunch. The
youngest one, who was about your age
and size, must have had more than
her share Of vanity. guess she hg-
ured on charming the bear and the
moose. or the simple aborigines who
dwell In this neck Of the woods. Any
how, she had all kinds OF unnecessary
fxings along. that trunkful OF stuff
In the lot. You can imagine what q
nice tine their guides had packing that
on q horse. eh1 They got into deuce
OF q pickle finally. and had to abandon
q lot Of their stun. among other things
the steamer trunk Ilent them = hand.
and they told me to help myself to the
stuf. So I did after thE vecs out