The Washburn times. [volume] (Washburn, Wis.) 1896-1976, 1922-08-03
CHAPTER Xxx
The End Of Il All.

The End Of lt 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 K. Dale took a 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 chair and
sat there thinking, thinking, until the
afternoon was half gone.
/ Then he called Elizabeth to him.
"Will you go to my son and tell him
I wish to see him?" he said. And he
added under his breath: II think 1t Is
best that they should know"
Elizabeth heard that which he had
said to himself as well as she heard.
| that which he had said to her. Should
! knowl Know what? She had 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. "Billl"
He sat up straight and faced her.
He seemed surprised.
"Well, Babe?"
"YOur father wants you," In low
voice. Hes got something to tell
! you that-that will make you think
! almost nothing Of mel'
Young Dale frowned. 'sWhat is It p
I'D rather he'd tell you about It.
Bill Dale. / don't think could bear
to tell you myself"
| She turned and was about to hasten
away, when he called to her:
"Wait !"-and she waited.
"Has It," he asked, anything to do
with your marriage to Jimmy Faynew
"Noi"
He arose and put on his broad
trimmed hat "Tll Admit" he smiled.
''that I'm worse than granny woman
for poking my nose into other peoples
! affairs when are you going to marry
Jimmy, Babe?"
The answer came quickly: Never"
'Never r.
Never" repeated Elizabeth, very
quietly.
"NeverY pursued Dale.
"Neverw cried Elizabeth, exasper-
ated.
"GoodnessI'' laughed Dale. you're
dramatic, or vehement, or both. May
| I 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 Littleford's log house. The girl
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 an
inside door.
please close II, Elizabeth" he re-
quested, and she obeyed. Nov sit
down. I've got some hing to tell the
three of you. And fancy 1t win In
terest all Of you"
The two who had just come in took
chairs at the fireside. After q mo-
ment, John x. Dale began:
you've often wondered, BIZ, about
that savage streak-as you choose to
call it-that is In you. You inherited
it. Much Of that which we are, II Is
claimed, is inherited, and 1t must be
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.
l have never seen another man who
had a greater love for honesty and
fair play, or greater hatred for all
that is hollow and false, or more cour-
age TO stick up for that which seems
] to he right, than you. Now I'll tell
you how you came by those fne quail
tiles and the h0t-headedneSs-"
Elizabeth Littleford sat wide-eyed,
tense. half breathless. II he meant to
tell It, why didn't he tell It'll Why did
he beat about the bush like that1
"Bill, this is hard for me. 1t brings
back terrible thing. You know about
David Moreland. ;. When ! awoke
that morning and found him lying
dead at my crazed. drunken hands.
wished that |, too. were dead. /. :.
That great and silent wilderness
smothered me. imagined that could
hear voices calling to me. saying