The Bemidji daily pioneer. [volume] (Bemidji, Minn.) 1904-1971, 1922-02-27
CHAPTER Xxx
The End Of 1t All.

The End Of It All.
The sun shone very brightly that
day, and the snow began to melt on
the places that were not shaded.
When he returned with Elizabeth from
the crest of David Moreland's NOUN
tain, John X. Dale took rocker be-
fore the fire and sat there thinking,
thinking, until the midday meal was
announced. When the midday meal
was over, he resumed his c-sir and
sat there thinking. thinking, until the
afternoon was half gone.
Then he called Elizabeth to him.
will you go to my sou and tell him
I wish to see him." he said. And he
aGded under his breath: Il think 1t is
best that they should know"
Elizabeth heard that which he had
said to himself as we'll as she heard
that which he had said to her. Should
know! Know what? She had a sud-
den wild fear that Mrs. Dale had
broken her promise. never to breathe
a word Of the truth concerning the
Adam Ball affair. Nevertheless, she
put on her hat and her gloves and
went to Bill Dale's Office.
Dale sat with his elbows on his desk
and with his head in his hands. TO
all appearances, he was unaware Of
the presence of the girl in the door
way.
She spoke. "Bill!"
He SAT up straight and faced her.
He seemed surprised.
"Well, Babe?"
"Ycur father wants you," in low
voice. Hes got something to tell
you that-that will make you think
almost nothing Of me!'
Young Dale frowned. ''What is it?''
"I'd rather he'd tell you about it.
Bill Dale, I don't think I could bear
to tell you myself"
She turned and was about to hasten
away, when he called to her:
"Wait v'-ind she waited.
HAS it," he asked, ''anything to do
with your marriage to Jimmy Fayne:''
mol"
He arose and put on his broad
trimmed hat. ''I'll admit" he smiled,
that I'm worse than granny woman
for poking my nose into other people q
atfalrs-when are you going to marry
Jimmy, Babe?'
The answer came quickly: "Never.' y
"Neverw
Never" repeated Elizabeth, very
quietly.
"Never?" pursued Dale.
Never" cried Elizabeth, exasper'
atcd.
Goodness! ~ laughed Dale. "You're
,, dramatic, or vehement, or both. May
| / walk home with you, Babe?"
Yes, sir" promptly, "if you want
to-
They set out across the snOw-cov'
cred meadows. and neither spoke an
other word until they had reached
Ben LittIeford's log house. The gr
looked at him queerly as they en-
tered. After he knew
Old Dale still sat before the fire
! and near him sat silent John More
land, Old Dale motioned toward al
i, inside door.
! "please close It, Elizabeth" he re
uuested, and she obeyed. Now SIT
down. I've got something to tell the
three Of you. And 1 fancy it will in
terest all Of you.'
| The two who had just come in tool
chairs at the fireside. After mo
ment, John K. Dale began:
| you've often wondered, Bill, abou
that savage streak--as you choose II
| call it-that is In you. You inherited
! it. Much Of that which we are. b l.
claimed, is inherited, and it must b.
correct; like begets like, Of course
But there is no savage streak in you
Bill. You are hot-headed, that's all
Your virtues overbalance that, by far
I have never seen another man VIII
had a greater love for honesty ant
fair play, or a greater hatred for al
that is hollow and false, or more cour
age to stick up for that which seem
TO be right. than you. Now I'll tel
you how you came by those fine qua
tiles and the hot-headedness--"
Elizabeth Littleford sat wide-eyec
tense, half GREATNESS. If he meant t
tell 1t, why didn't he tell it! Why d.
he beat about the bush like that!
bill, this is hard for me. 1t bring
back terrible thing. You know abou
David Moreland. =. When ! awok
that morning and found him lyln
dead at my crazed, drunken hands,
wished that /, too, were dead. {.
That great and silent wilderness
smothered me. imagined that cou
hear voices calling to me, saying
"'Cain Cainr