The Ely miner. [volume] (Ely, Minn.) 1895-1986, 1922-12-01

re Wlue, green pastures, enSllVereu
the moon, and fields of corn laid
In even rows. The old appeal of
Soil, an instinct that no person of
1o-SaxOn descent can ever COM
sely escape, swept through him.
fy were worth fighting for, those
tile acres.
Not for nothing have hundred gen.
ations of Anglo-SaXon people been
lers Of the soil. They had left a
love of 1t to Bruce. He knew what
| it would be like to feel the earth's
pulse through the handles Of pillow, to
behold the first start of green things
in the spring and the golden ripening
in fall; to watch the flocks through the
| breathless nights and the herds feed
| ing on the distant hills.
Bruce looked over the ground. He
knew 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 rifieman
watching from the windows of the
house. He turned through the cOverts,
seeking the shadow Of the forests at
one side.
BY going in squartering 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 it 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 black square on the moonlit
wall.
There was a neglected garden close
to this wing of the house. If he could
reach this spot in safety he could ap-
proach within a few feet of the house
and still remain in cover. He went
fiat, then slowly crawled toward it.
Once light sprang up in a window
near the front, and he pressed close
to the earth. But in moment it went
away. He crept on. He didn't know
| when Waterman in one of the dark
| 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
| cir oln of fro IN +ho do,
ness, so small that probably his eyes
would quite fail to catch it. If they
did discern it, there would be no time
| for a message to be recorded in his
brain. 1t would mean 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
and 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 the 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 moment of close work
with what guards the Turner's had set
over her. But the heavy stock used
| then.
Many times he knew, skulking fig
ures had been concealed in this gar
den. Probably the Turner's, in the
days of the blood-feud, had often wait
ed in its shadows for a sight of some
one of their enemies in lighted win
dow. Old ghosts dwelt in it; he could
see their shadows waver out of the
corner of his eyes. Or perhaps it was
only the shadow of the brambles,
blown by the wind.
Once his heart leaped into his
| throat at a sharp crack of brush be-
side him; and he could scarcely re-
strain a musculer jerk that might have
revealed his position. But when he
| turned his head he could see nothing
but the coverts and the moon above
them. A garden snake, or perhaps a
blind mole, had made the sound.
Four minutes later he was within
one dozen feet of the designated VIM
dow. There was a stretch of moon
light between, but he passed it quick
ly. And now he stood in bold relief
against the moonlit house-wall.
He was in perfectly plain sight of
any one on the hill behind. Possibly
his distant form might have been dis
cerned from the window of one of the
lesser houses occupied by Simon's kin.
But he was too close to the wall to
| be visible from the windows of Simon's
house, except by deliberate scrutiny
And the window slipped up noiseless-
sly in his hands.
He was considerably surprised He
had expected this window to be locked.
Some way. he felt less hopeful nj sue
cess. He recalledsin his mind the di-