The Lamar register., 1922-02-08
CHAPT ER !.

along the face OF west Hill between
the Lehlgh Valley tracks and the high
way leading to Johannesburg. Oscar
Bennett was what the country people
and even the Ithaca folks called fine
farmer. His farmhouse faced a lane
that led to the west shore of Lake
Cayuga, and from the front porch he
could see, much to his dislike, the few
struggling squatter shacks that
brought to an end northward the 81
lent City. Like all other substantial
citizens, Oscar detested the squatters.
In his estimation they were a set of
thieving loafers and sneaks, and many
times he had wished that he owned
the ground they squatted on instead
Of Marcus Mackenzie.
OF course 1t was no secret that
Mackenzie never let an opportunity
slip to pop a fisherman into jail. but
In Benefits opinion that treatment
was not severe enough, and besides, II
did not accomplish anything. Mac
Kenzie's Idea was to Jail the men
whenever the chance came and for a
period as long as the law would allow.
But what good did that dor Fierce
hatred famed In the haggard faces of
the women, and they held to their
squatter rights with the tenacity Of
leeches until their husbands were
given back to them. Bennett would
have done away with the wives and
mothers II the job of breaking up the
Silent City had been his. No man
would hang to a hut long without a
woman In It.
One morning In the early spring Os-
car was finishing his breakfast when
the door opened slowly. A girl with
"a small tin pail in her hand stepped
Into the room. She smiled at him al
most humbly.
"Shut the door !" he shouted at her.
Where's your manners. Polly Hop
kins? Can't you see the rains com
ing In after your
The smile faded from the girls face.
Mechanically she turned. closed the
door and. uninvited. seated herself In
a chair and placed the pail at her
side.
80 you've come begging. Pollyop."
went on the farmer, wiping his lips
on the sleeve OF his gingham shirt.
well. you might as well turn tail
and run home again, for you're not 60
ing TO get anything more from me. /
don't want a poacher's brat around
here"
The girls bare wet feet drew tense
ly backward under the chair: but she
remained discreetly silent Oscar al
ways abused her and called her names.
but that was because she was a squat
ter. After a while. he'd change his
mind. and then she would take home
what she came for. She noted with a
quick breath that Oscars eyes softened
during the time he was silent. That
boded well for her errand; but Ben
nett's mind was not on milk or any
Of those suffering for the want Of 1t.
He had just discovered that Polly
Hopkins was beautiful even II she
were barefooted and ragged. Her
straight young shoulders were covered
with wet curls that seemed to have
given to the wide eyes their shade of
ripe chestnuts.
Polly expected every moment that
ONIdT Moull lnt phllt
and, though with bad grace, he'd give
her the milk Just the same. She fid-
geted in her chair and drew a long
slgh-he was staring at her in such a
peculiar manner from under his heavy
brows.
Why had he not noticed before that
Polly Hopkins was so pretty, Oscar
wondered. and a slow smile parted his
lips. Polly's eyes lowered, and the
long dark lashes only added to Ben
nett's sudden admiration. A quick.
drawn breath slipped audlbly past the
mans teeth. Pollyop sensed In his at
tItude toward her new quality that
she recognized intuitively as danger
Gus. To bring his attention back to
the purpose of her visit, she ventured
to say:
81 thought 1t wouldn't hurt you
none, Oscar, to gimme little milk for
Granny Hope an Jerry. I'm always
runnin' errands for you an your
woman"
Bennett's heavy farm boots made a
scraping sound under the table.
"What good does that do me?" he
returned. Upon my soul, l might us
well be without a wife as to have one