The Dolores star., 1920-12-31
realized tnr. nvwever stern her decree

passed; and the result had been far
from the disaster he had painted in
his minds eye ever since the knowl-
edge had come to him that he was
doomed to battle to a knockout with
Colonel Pennington, and that one of
the earliest fruits of hostilities would
doubtless be the loss of Shirley Sum-
ner's priced friendship. Well. he had
lost her friendship, but still small
voice whispered to him that the loss
was not rreparable-whereat he
swung his axe as bandmaster swings
his baton; he was glad that he had
started the war and was now free to
fight it out unhampered.
Up hill and down dale he went
Within two hours his long, tireless
stride brought him out into a clearing
in the valley where his own logging
camp stood. He went directly to the
log-landing, where in listless and
Ealf-hearted manner the loading crew
were piling logs on Pennington's log
ging trucks.
Bryce looked at his watch. 1t was
two o'clock; at two fifteen Pennins-
toms locomotive would appear. to back
in and couple to the long line Of
trucks. And the train was only half
loaded.
"Where's McTavishr Bryce de-
manded Of the donkey-driver.
The man mouthed his quid, spat
copiously, wiped his mouth with the
back of his hand, and pointed. up
at his shanty." he made answer, and
grinned at Bryce knowingly.
Up through the camps Single short
street, fianked on each side with the
woodsmen's shanties. Bryce went. At
the most pretentious shaDty on the
street Bryce turned in. He had never
seen 1t before, but he knew it to be
the woods-boss's home, for unlike its
neighbors the house was painted with
the coarse red paint that is used on
box-cars, while fence, made of fancy
pointed pickets painted white, inclosed
a tiny garden in front of the house
As Bryce came through the gate, a
young girl rose from where she knelt
in bed of freshly transplanted
pansies.
isNS iiitNu nat 10 NIL Nh
lavish at homer" he asked.
She nodded. HE cannot see any.
body" she hastened to add. "He's
sick"
II think he'll see me. And wonder
If you're Molra McTavish.-
"Yes, I'm Moira,"
"I'm Bryce Cardigan"
A lpnl- nF e,.if i,tn ha r;,- "a
eyes. "Are you-Bryce Cardigan 2
she faltered, and looked at him more
closely. "Yes, you're Mr.. Bryce. You've
changed-but then It's six years since
we saw you last, Mr.. Bryce"
He came toward her with outstretch
ed hand. "And you were a little CIR
when l saw you last. Now-you're q
woman" She grasped his hand with
the frank heartiness Of a man.
I'm twenty years DID," she Informed
him.
Stand right where you are until
have looked at you," he commanded
and backed off few feet, the bettel
to contemplate her.
He saw girl slightly above medium
height, tanned, robust. simply gownet
In gingham dress Her hands were
soiled from her recent labors in the
pansy-bed, and her shoes were heavy
and coarse; yet neither hands nor fee
were large or ungraceful. Her heat
was well formed; her hair, Jet blacl
and of unusual lustre and abundance
was parted in the middle and held IL
an old-fashioned coil at the nape O
n neck the beauty of which was re
vealed by the low cut of her simple
frOck. Her nose was patrician, he
face oval; her lips. full and red, wer,
slightly parted In the adorable Cupid
bow which Is the inevitable heritage o
short upper lip; her teeth wer
white as Parian marble; and her full
breast was rising and falling swiftly
as If she labored under suppressed ex
element.
So delightful picture did Moir:
. McTavish make that Bryce forgot al
his troubles in her sweet presence
"By the gods. Moira." he declared
earnestly. you're a peach! When
saw you last, you were awkward an,
leggy, like colt. I'm sure you weren'
a bit goodlooking. And now YOUR
the most ravishing young lady In sew
enteen counties. By lingo, Moira
you're sumner and no mistake. AR
you married?"
She shook her head, blushing pleas
urably at his unpublished but SINGER
compliments.
"What? Not married. Why, wha
the deuce can be the matter with tn
eligible young fellows hereabouts?"
"There aren't any eligible young fel
lows hereabouts, Mr.. Bryce. And Tv
lived In these woods all my life."
Are you lonely. Moira?"
She nodded.
"Poor Moral" he murmured ali
sently.
| III nn-..-