, 1922-10-04
BY
EDISON MARSHALL
Author of
1.-THE Voice of the Pack
Copyright by Little Brown, and Co.

uClhc VI luAdlS W tutLi. Anu nlOIt
clearly han ever he understood why
the ROSES had died. sooner than re-
iinquish it, and why its usurpation by
the Turner's had left such a debt of
hatred to Linda. All men know that
the love of home is one of the few
great impulses that has made toward
civilization, but by the same token 1t
has been the cause of many vars. Per-
haps the day is coming when this love
will die in the land, but with it will
die the strength to repel the heather
from our walls, and the land will not
be worth living in, anyway. But it
was not dead to the mountain people.
No really primitive emotion aver is.
The ROSES had known this instinct
very well. AS all men who are strong
thewed and of real natural virtue. they
had known pride of race and name,
and 1t had bee a task worth while to
build this stately house On their far
lying acres. They had given their
fiber to 1t freely no man who beheld
the structure could doubt that fact.
They had simply consecrated their
lives to it; their one Work by which
they could show to all who came after
that by their own hands they had
earned their right to live.
Bruce saw the broad lands lying un-
der the moon. There were hundreds
of acres of alfalfa and clover to fur
nish hay for the winter feeding. There
were wide. green pastures, ensilvered
by the moon, and fields of corn laid
out in even rows. The old appeal of
the soil, an instinct that no person Of
Anglo-Saxon descent can ever COM
pletely escape, swept through him.
They were worth fighting for, those
fertile acres.
Not for nothing have a hundred gen.
erations of Anglo-Saxon people been
tillers of the soil. They had left a
love of 1t to Bruce. He knew what
1t would be like to feel the earth's
pulse through the handles of a pillow, to
behold the first start Of green things
in the spring and the golden ripening
in fall to watch the fiocks through the
b%reathless nights and the herds feed
ing on the distant hills.
Bruce looked over the ground. He
Enew enough not to continue the trail
farther. The space in front was bathed
in moonlight. and he would make the
best kind of target to any rifeman
watching from the windows of the
house. He turned through the coverts,
seeking the shadow of the forests at
one side.
BY going in u quartering direction
he was able to approach within two
hundred yards of the house without
emerging into the moonlight. At that
point the real difficulty of the stalk
began. He lowered in the shadows,
then slipped one hundred feet further
to the trunk of a great oak tree.
He could see the house much more
plainly now. True, it had suffered neg
lect in the past twenty years 1t need
ed painting and many of its windows
were broken. Bruce rejoiced to see
that there were no lights in the east
wing Of the house; the window that
Linda had indicated in the note was
Just u black square on the moonlit
wall.
There vas a neglected garden close
to this wing of the house. If he could
reach this spot in safety he could APP
proach within a few feet of the house
and still remain In cover He went
fiat, then slowly crawled toward it.
Once a light sprang up in a window
near the front, and he pressed close
to the earth. But In a moment 1t went
away. He crept IN. He didn't know
when q Waterman In one of the lark
windows would discern his creeping
figure. But he did know perfectly just
what manner of greeting he might ex-
pect in this event. There would be a
single little squirt of fire in the dark
ness, so small that probably his eyes
would quite fail to catch 1t. If they
did discern 1t, there would be no time
for a message to be recorded in his
brain. 1t would mean a swift and GER
tain end of all messages. The Turner's
would lose no time in emptying their
rifles at him, and there wouldn't be the
slightest doubt about their hitting the
mark. All the clan were expert shots
n the range was close.
The place was deeply silent. He
felt a growing sense of awe. In a mo
ment more, he slipped into the shad-
ows of h neglected rose gardens.
He lay quiet an instant, resting. He
didn't wish to risk the success of his
expedition by fatiguing himself now.
He wanted his full strength and
breath for any crisis that he should
meet in the room where Linda was
confined.
Nevertheless, the stock of his rifle
felt good in his hands. Perhaps there
would be a running fight after he got
the girl out of the house, and then his
cartridges would be needed. There
might even be a moment of close work
with Whit guards the Turner's had set
over her. But the heavy stock used
L M LII --uo.Il ~