The Benson signal., 1918-11-02

the chill gone from her body, she be-
slowed curious glance on her sur
roundings.
There was furniture Of a sort un-
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 a 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 1oor-itself, as she could see,
Of hand-smoothed logs-was lightened
with great black and red and yellow
rug Of curious weave. Covering up
the bare surface surrounding it were
bearskins, black and brown. Her feet
rested in the fur Of a 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 it's owners absence, the
place was as neat and clean as IL the
housemaid had but gone over 1t. Hazel
shrugged her shoulders. Roaring Bill
Wagstaff became, if anything, more Of
an enigma than ever, In the light Of bis
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, "we're 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 a small
steamer trunk. He opened it, got down
on his knees, and paved over the con-
tents. Hazel, looking over her shoul.
der, saw that the trunk was filed with
woman's garments. and sat amazed.
"Say, little person." Bill finally re-
marked, ut looks to me as if you could
outfit yourself completely right here"
-"I don't know that I care to deck
myself in another VIC mans finery,
thank you," she returned perversely.
"Now, see here" Roaring Bill turned
reproachfully; "see here"
He grinned to-himse1f 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-
dacity. She had not realized what
On 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,
OuL Dill cluuCu ucI ACdC1A, dAO AdAO I1AC
glass on the table.
you'll feel 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
a woman. And you don't need to feel
squeamish about these things. This
trunks got 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. I guess she fig
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
filings along, that trunkful Of stuff
in the lot. You can imagine what
nice time their guides had packing that
on horse, eh? They got into deuce
Of pickle finally, and had to abandon
lot Of their stuff, among other things
the steamer trunk. lent them hand,
and they told me to help myself to the
stuff. So I did after they were out