, 1919-11-13
On
Catamount Road
By IZoLA FORESTER
1919. by the Mcclure News
paper S~yndicate.)

a motor somewhere along the hill road.
Didn't they know, she thought, hat no
cars ever used 1t, that it zigzagged
along the edge of the ravine with a
sheer drop of two hundred and eighty
feet to the bottom of the river? She
rose. the tin pint pals filed with
h~uckleberries dangling from Il rope
around her waist, and pushed back
her hair to shade her eyes.
Say" she called as loudly as she
could. Say! Look out for the road %
She held her breath for an answer,
but the hum of the motor drowned her
voice, and as the low gray roadster
swept around the bend, it hit u broken
place in the road. m was gone crash
ing down into the tree tops before she
could make a sound.
So adventure and excitement became
unexpected guests In Catamount val
ley, and for weeks there lay In the
Pendleton cabin a woman with wide,
somber, dark eyes end silent lips, who
CROPPED her way back from the shadows
almost regretfully.
The chauffeur and two men had been
taken up to the hospital at Kingsley.
Audrey heard that one of them died.
Mrs. Stewart had not seemed interest
ed when h told her this. nor had she
even asked which one. Audrey hoped
privately it wasn't tee young one with
he curly blond hair and little short
cropped mustache In the army uniform.
There had been only two boys to go out
from the valley to wear khaki, and she
felt an added interest in this young
ster who seemed to have escaped the
perils of val to become acquainted
with death in Catamount ravine.
Then M day, when she was helping
Mrs. Stewart to slip into a negligee
and try to sit up awhile, she turned
over a folded leather case in her small
Ter suitcase. 1t opened and she saw a
photograph of the same face. only
younger, and this time its owner wore
yachting clothes. Mrs. Stewart glanced
at her as h ben over it absorbedly.
WAS he the one?" she asked in a
hushed tone, and her fingers twisted
he knotted fringe of the white cover
lid.
"Why, 1 don't know" Audrey an
swered eagerly. II liked him best. The
old man swore terribly when they were
carrying him. and this one never said
a thing and they had to get him up
with ropes"
Mrs. Stewart s%buddered. She tried
to put from her the reality of that last
drive that was to have ended in a final
ity so different to the one that over
took them all. Ivan had peer very
silent. She had told him when they
left Kingsley that she would give him
his answer before they reached their
destination. And Dick had sat with
her in the back, talking and laughing
all the way OF the last stretch. never
dreaming how. in his joy of youth he
was turning her from the thought of
marrying simply for money and the
rest from eternal worry They had
passed mountain shacks along the way,
and she had looked at them with curl
Gus eyes. Could women be happy in
such places with only love?
1t was the fourth week when he
came, the young one, as Audrey always
called him TO herself. 1t had been the
NhO a. hiti, ne tOlu IntlH.
Mr.. Radinoff was doing well. in fact
intended returning to New York on
Monday and sailing the following week.
Mrs. Stewart never ever colored at his
news. and Audrey wondered Which one
h cared for.
Then followed weeks of crchant-
ment. Mrs. Stewart had insisted on
making the journey back to the city
for special treatment, she said, and
stayed at the cabin. Her father liked
him. 1t reused him to have some one
to talk to, and Dick liked to go over
his collections with him n help him.
1t was such an old story to Audrey
h never realized what a strange life
they led VI on the side of Shamokin
mountain. she n the old scholarly
naturalist.
ITS just always been this way she
told Dick. 81 was born right here, and
my mother died here. love 1t all, and
I've been away to school twice. but
l always long to come back. It's SO
free, don't you know? Why, your car
was the first that has ever come over
our road. Everybody knew how dan
gerous 1t was. It's lucky you're alive.'
isn't it?" Dick smiled down at her
standing six feet two In his lieutenant
uniform. ID o know. ] wish l could
always stay here now. haven't any
real home. My people were New York
ers. but my mothers married again,
and I'm rather the odd gosling. l used