Middletown transcript., 1921-02-05
CHAPTER lI-continued.

And as for Whisperfoot-the terror
that choked his heart with blood be-
gan to wear off in little while. The
man lay so still in the thickets. Be-
sides, there was strange, wild smell
in the air. Whisperfoot's stroke had
gone home so true there had not even
been fight. The darkness began to
lift around him, and strange exulta-
tion, rapture unknown before In all
his hunting. began to creep into his
wild blood. Then, as shadow steals,
he went creeping back to his dead.
.
Dan Failing had been studying ma
ture on the high ridges; and he went
home by a back trail that led to old
Bald mountain. The trail was just
a narrow serpent in the brush; and
It had not been made by gangs Of
laborers, working with shovels and
picks. Possibly half a dozen white
men, in all, had ever. walked along it..
1t was just the path Of the wild crea-
lures, worn down by hoof and paw
and cushion since the young days of
the world.
It was a roundabout trail home,
but yet it had its advantages. It took
him within two miles of Snowbird's
lookout station, and at this hour of
day he had been particularly fortunate
in finding her at a certain spring on
the mountain side. 1t was rather sim
gular coincidence. Along about four
he would usually find himself wander
ing up that way. Strangely enough,
at the same time, it was true that
she had an irresistible impulse to go
down and sit in the green ferns beside
the same spring. They always seemed
reality, either Of them would have
been considerably more surprised had
the other failed to put in an appear.
ance. And always they had long talks
as the afternoon drew to twilight.
But don't think you ought to wait
so late before starting home" the girl
would, always say. you're not a
human hawk, and it is easier to gel
lost than you Think
And this solicitude, Dan rightly fig
ured, was a good sign. There was
only one objection to it. It resulted
in an unmistakble inference that she
considered him unable to take care
of himself-and that was the last
thing on earth that he wanted hel
to think. He understood her wei
enough to know that her standards
were the standards of the mountains
valuing strength and self-relianct
above all things. He didn't stop II
question why, every day, he trod s,
many weary miles to be with her.
She was as natural as fawn; ant
many times she had quite taken ava.
his breath. And once she did it liter
ally. He didn't think that so long a
death spared him he would ever b.
able to forget that experience. It wa
her birthday, and knowing Of it il
time he had arranged for the deliver.
Of certain package, dear to girlisl
heart, at her fathers house. In tn
trysting hour he had come trudgin
over the hills with it, and few expert
ences in his life had ever yielded sucl
unmitigated pleasure as the sight o
her, glowing white and red, as she tool
off its wrapping paper. 1t was a joll
old gift, he recollected-and when sh
had seen it, she fairly leaped at him
Her warm, round arms around hi
neck, and the softest, loveliest lips #
the world pressed his. But in thos
days he didn't have the strength tina
he had now. He felt he could endur
the same experience again with n
embarrassment Whatever. His first In
preston then, besides abOunding, in
credible establishment, was that sh
had quite knocked out his breath. Blu
let It be said for him that he recoy
cred with notable promptness. Hi
own arms had gone up and close
around her, and the girl had wriggle
free.
"But you mustn't do that!" she tol
him. 5o
But good Lord, girl! You did
to me! Is there no justice in women
"But did it to thank you for thi
lovely gift. For remembering me