Courier Democrat. (Langdon, N.D.) 1891-1920, 1918-12-12
CHAPTER VII.
The Fires of Sprinu,

br1ll1ancy went Out OF the sky, and II
became softly, mistily blue. All that
forenoon Hazel prowled restlessly out
Of doors without cap or coat. There
was a new feel in the air. The deep
winter snow had suddenly lost it's
harshness.
Toward evening a mild breeze fresh,
ened from the southwest. At ten o'clock
a gale whooped riotously through the
trees. And at midnight Hazel wakened
to a sound that she had not heard in
months. She rose and CROPPED her way
to the window. The e%ncrusting frost
had vanished from the panes. They
were wet to the touch of her fingers.
She unlocked the fastening, and swung
the window out. A great gust of damp,
warm wind blew strands Of hair across
her face. She leaned through the case
.ment, and drops of cold water struck
her bare neck. That which she had
heard was the dripping caves. The
chinook wind droned its spring song,
and the bare boughs Of the tree beside
the cabin waved and creaked the time.
At dawn the caves had ceased their
drip, and the dirt root lay bare to the
cloud-banked sky. From the southwest
the wind still blew strong and warm.
The thick winter garment of the earth
softened to slush, and vanished with
amazing swiftness. Streams of water
poured down every depression. Pools
stood between the house and stable.
Spring had leaped strong-armed upon
old Winter and vanquished him at the
first onslaught.
All that day the chinook blew, work.
ing it's magic upon the land. When day
broke again with a clearing sky, and
the sun peered between the cloud riffs,
his beams fell upon vast areas of
brown and green, where but forty-eight
hours gone there was the cold revelry
of frost sprites upon far-fung fields
of snow. Patches of earth steamed
wherever a hillside lay bare to the sun.
From some mysterious distance a lone
crow winged his way, and, perching on
a nearby treetop, cawed raucous greet
ing.
Hazel cleared away the breakfast
things, and stood looking out the kitch-
en- window. Roaring Bill sat on a log,
shirt-sleeved. smoking his pipe. Pres.
emily he went over to the stable. led
out his horses, and gave them their lib
erty. For twenty minutes or so he
stood watching their mad capers az
they ran and leaped and pranced back
and forth over the clearing. Then he
walked off into the timber, his rifle
over his shoulder.
Hazel washed her dishes and went
outside. She did not know why, but
all at once a terrible feeling of utter
forlornness seized her. 1t was spring
and also 1t was spring in other lands.
The wilderness suddenly took on the
characteristics of a prison, in which
she was sentenced to solitary confne-
ment. She rebeiled against it, rebelled
against her surroundings. against the
manner of her being there, against
everything. She hated the North, she
wished to be gone from it, and most
If all she hated Bill Wagstaff for con-
,training her presence there.
All the heaVlneSS or neart. all the re-
sentiment she had felt in the frst few
days wnen she followed him pertonc
away from Cariboo Meadows, cam
back to her with redoubled force tina
afternoon. She went back into tn
house, now gloomy without a fire
slumped forlornly into a chair, an
cried herself into a condition approach
ing hysteria. And she was sitting there
her head bowed on her hands, whel
Bill returned from his hunting. Th
sun sent a shaft through the soutl
window, a shaft which rested on he
dropping head. Roaring Bill walked
slowly up behind her and put his han'
on her shoulder.
"What is it, little persona" he aske'
gently.
She refused to answer.
"Say," he bent Il little lower "yo'
know what the Tentmalier said:
"Come All tho cup. and In the fire o
spring
Your winter garment OF repentance h'ng
The Bird Of Time has but u little way