Evening times-Republican. [volume] (Marshalltown, Iowa) 1890-1923, 1920-03-13
Copyright by Peter B. Kyne.
CHAPTER VIII.

CHAPTER VIII.
Thru the green timber Bryce
Cardigan strobe, and there WAS a lit
in his heart now. Already he had
forgotten the desperate situation
from which he had just escaped; he
thought only of Shirley Summers
face, tearstained with terror; and
because he knew lnat at least some
the gravest apprehens.ons as TO his
physical well being, because in his
ears there still resounded her iran
tic warning, he realized that how
ever stern her decree Of Punishment
had been, she was nevertheless not
indifferent TO him.
The climax had been reaChed-and
passed; and the result had been far
from the disaster he had painted IN
his minds eye ever since the KNOW
ledge had come to him that he was
doomed TO battle t. knockout with
Colonel Pennington. and that one OF
the earliest fruits Of nostiliues wou!d
doubtless be the loss of Shirley sum
ner's priced friendship. but a stilI
small voice whispered to him that
the loss was not irreparable-w hereal
he swung his axe as a oandnaster
swings his baton: he was glad that
he had started the war and was now
Tree TO night 1t out unhampered.
Up hill and down dale he went.
Within two hours his long, tireless
stride brought him out into clear
ing in the valley where MS own
logging-camp stood. He went dl-
rectlv TO the log landing. where IN
llstless and half hearted manner the
loading crew were piling logs on
Pernlngton's logging trucks.
BRYCE looked at his watch. II was
two O'clock: at two fifteen Penntng-
tons locomotive would appear, 10
back in and couple TO the long line
OF trucks. And the train was only
half loaded. Where's McTaVish!
Bryce demanded Of the donkey
driver.
The man mouthed his quid, spat
copiously, wiped his mouth Win the
back of his hand. and pointed.
at his snanty," he made answer, ana
grinned at Bryce knowingly.
Up thru the camps single snort
street, thanked on each side win the
woodsmen's shanJies, Bryce went
A. -he most pretentious shanty on
the street Bryce turned in. He had
re,,ar seen il before but he knew 1t
TO be the woods -Doss's home Tor uh-
like its neighhors the house was
najn-ed with the coarse red paint
that is used on box-cars. While
fence. made OF fancy pointed pickets
painted white. inclosed tiny garden
in front OF the house. As Bryce came
thru the gate Young girl rose from
where she knelt in bed OF freshly
transplanted pansies.
BRYCE lifted his hat. rs Mr.. Nc
lavish at home%' he asked.
She nodded. He can not see any
body" she FASTENED to add. Hes
sick"
.T think hen see me. And l won
der If you're Mora McTavish."
Yes I'm MORA"
I'm Bryce Cardigan"
A look of fright crept into the
girls eyes. Are you-Bryce Cardi-
gam" she faltered, and looked at him
more closely. yes, you're Mr.. Bryce.
You'ce changed-but then it's six
years since we saw you last, Mr..
Bryce"
He came toward her with out
stretched hand. And you were
little girl when 7 saw you last. Now
you're a woman She grasped his
hand with the frank heart!ness OF a
man.
I'm twenty years DID," she in
formed him.
stand right where you are until
have looked at YOU" he commanded
and backed off a few feet, the better
to contemplate her.
He saw a girl slightly above med
ium height, tanned, robust, simply
gowned in a Bingham dress. Her
labors in the pansy-bed. and her
shoes were heavy and coarse; yet
neither hands nor feet We're large or
ungraceful. Her head was well
formed; her hair, jet black and Of
unusual Iuster and abundance. was
parted in the middle and held in an
old fashioned coil at the nape of a
neck. the beauty Of which was re-
vealed by the low cut Of her simple
fIuux. Tier nose was patrician, her
face oval; her lips, full and red, were
slightly parted in the adorable
Cupid's bow which is the inevitable
heritage Of a short upper lip; her
teeth We're white as Parian marble;
and her full breast was rising and
falling swiftly as if she labored under
suppressed excitement.
So delightful a picture did Moira
McTavish make that Bryce forgot
all his troubles in her sweet pres
ence. ''By the gods, Moira," he de-
clared earnestly, you're a peach!
When I saw you last, you were
awkward and leggy, like a colt. I'm
| sure you weren't bit good looking.
And now you're the most ravishing
young lady in seventeen counties. BY
lingo, Mora, you're sumner and
no mistake. Are you married?
She shook her head, blushing