The Benson signal., 1918-12-28
CHAPTER XII.
Four Walls and a Roof.

place. She could not deny its beauty.
But she was far too trail weary to ap-
preci"+e the grandeur Of the Klappan
range. She desired nothing so much
as rest and comfort, and the solemn
mountains were neither restful nor
soothing. They stood too grim and
aloof in lonely land.
There was so much to be done, work
Of the hands; cabin to build, and a
stable; hay to be cut and stacked so
that their horses might live through
the long winter-which already her
aided his approach with sharp, sting
ing frosts at night, and flurries OF
snow along the higher ridges.
Bill staked the tent beside the
spring, fashioned a rude fork out Of
pronged willow, and fitted handle.
to 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 1t in little mounds
with a fork. She insisted on this,
though 1t blistered her hands and
brought furious pains to her back. If
her man must strain every nerve she
would tighten the burden with what
strength 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 70 said Bill, when he had emp
tied the rack for the last time, and
the hay rose in a neat stack. "That's
another load off my mind. can build
a cabin and a stable In six feet Of
snow If l have to, but there would
have been a slim chance of haying once
storm hit us. We wouldn't go hun
gry-there's moose enough to feed an
army ranging in that low ground to the
south"
There's everything that one needs,
almost, in the wilderness, isn't there?"
Hazel observed reflectively. "But still
the law of life is awfully harsh, don't
you think, Bill. Isolation is a terrible
thing when it 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.
us 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? 1t treats you worse than the
worst the North can do; for, lacking
the price, it 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 TAX
ing. No, little person, I don't think
the law of life is nearly so harsh here
as III Is where the mob struggles for It's
daily bread. It's more open and
ahoveboard here; more up to the indi.
vidual. But it's lonely sometimes.
guess that's what ais you"
ooh, poufr' she denied. "Tm 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 it," Bill exhorted. "That's
the worst Of living in this big, still
country-it makes one retrospective
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 I get that cabin built, with a big
fireplace at one end. Well be more
comfortable, and things will look a
little roster. This thing Of everlasting
hurry and hard work gets on every
body's nerves"
The best of the afternoon was still
unspent when the haystacking termi.
mated, and Bill declared a 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 I'm complaining
or lonesome or anything, Billy-boy
when I make remarks like I did today
l love you heap, and I'd be happy
anywhere with you. And I'm really
and truly at home in the wilderness
Only-only sometimes have funny
feeling; as If I were afraid. look up
at these big mountains, and they seem
to be scowling-as If we were tres.
passers or something"
81 know" Bill drew her close to
him. ''But that's just mood. I've felt
that same sensation up here-a foolish
indefinable forebodiAg. 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
to us: with that little old log house
up by Pine river for refuge when
~x,o ~o% %lroA 20 M world Of To roo