Eagle River review. [volume] (Eagle River, Wis.) 1890-1927, 1919-06-13

All would appear to be reason
ably definite were it not for the note
regarding the color of his nair. It
leaves to me the simple task of com
pIeting the very admirable description
Of Mr.. Barnes by announcing that
Miss Tilly's hair was an extremely
dark brown.
Also 1t is advisable to append the
following Biographical information j:
Thomas Kingsbury Barnes, engineer,
born in Montclair, N. J., September
&c, 1885. Cornell and Beaux Arts,
Paris. Son of the late Stephen S.
Barnes, engineer, and Edith (valen-
tine) Barnes. Office, Metropolitan
building, New York city. Residence,
Amsterdam mansion. Clubs: (Lack
Of space prevents listing them here).
Recreations, golf, tennis and horse
back riding. Fellow of the Royal Geo.
graphical society. Member of the
Loyal Legion and the Sons Of the
American Revolution.
Added to this, the mere announce
ment that he vas in a position to in
dulge a fancy for long and perhaps
aimless walking tours through more
or less out-of-the-way sections Of his
own country, to say nothing Of excur-
sions in Europe.
He was rich. Perhaps not as riches
are measured in these Midas-like days,
but rich beyond the demands Of ava
rice. His legacy had been an ample
one. The fact that he worked hard at
his profession from one years end to
the other-not excluding the six
devoted to mentally productive jaunts
lis proof sufficient that he was not
content to subsist on the fruits Of an
other mans enterprise. He was a
worker.
The first fortnight Of a proposed
six weeks jaunt through upper New
England terminated when he laid
aside his heavy pack in the little bed
room at Harris Tavern. Cockcrow
would find him ready and eager to be-
gin his third week. At least so he
thought. But, truth is, he had come
to his journeys end; he was not to
sling his pack for many a day to come.
After setting the mind Of the land
lord at rest Barnes declined Mr..
Rushcroft's invitation to QUAR- a COR
dial with him in the taproom, explain
ing that he was exceedingly tired and
intended to retire early.
Instead Of going up to his room inn
mediately, however, he decided to
have a look at the weather. His I'M
e~asiness concerning the young woman
of the crossroads increased as he
peered at the wall. of blackness loom
ing up beyond the circle of light. She
was somwhere outside that sinister
black wall and in the smothering
grasp Of those invisible hills, but was
she living or dead? Had she reached
her journeys end safely? He tried to
extract comfort from the confidence
she had expressed in the ability and
integrity of the old man who drove
with far greater recklessness than one
would have looked for in a wild and
irresponsible youngster.
He recalled with a thrill the imperi-
GUS manner in which she gave direc-
lions to the man, and his surprising
servility. It suddenly occurred to him
that she was no ordinary person; he
was rather amazed that he had not
thought of it before.
Moreover, now that he thought of it,
there was, even in the agreeable re-
joinders she had made to his offerings,
the faint suggestion of an accent that
should have struck him at the time
but did not for the obvious reaso that
he was then not at all interested in
her. Her English was so perfect that
he had failed to detect the almost i'm
~perceptible foreign flavor. that now
took definite form In his reflections.
He tried to place this accent. Was
it French or. Italian or Spanish? Ger
tainly it was not German.
He took a few turns up and down
the long porch, stopping finally at the
upper end. The clear, inspiring clang
of a hammer on an anvil fell sud-
denly upon his ears. He looked at his
watch. The hour was nine, certainly
an unusual time for men to be at work
In a forge. He remembered two men
in the taproom who were bare-armed
and wore the shapeless leather aprons
Of the smithy.