Evening star., 1923-09-02

with the open hand. But he wanted
space for the golden sowing; he
wanted to be monarch of all he sur
veyed.
So he engaged geologic age for
his landscape gardener and bought
himself a Titan's share of the Rocky
mountains. The water from eternal
SHOWS had gnawed canons; tornadoes
had turned sculptor; forests had
painted bleak slopes with the bless
ings of green-in order that old man
Angus might have his plaything.
Paradise Peaks he called it, having
fancy for ALTERATION.
The Manor, set deep in the lodge
pole pine and aspen groves of Clear
water valley, was the heart of the
demesne. There old man Angus
through the sweet, thrilling months
of the mountain summer played
grand host to his guests.
He supplied all accessories to ad-
venture, from trout-flies to guns that
would slay an elephant. The fifteen
hunting lodges scattered over Para
disc Peaks, each had it's arsenal, it's
library. its store of liquors, its string
of horses and it's guides at the dis
posal of guests.
Old man Angus had a plaything
that cannot be matched on this con-
tinent. He also had a daughter.
There the story really begins.
Columbine, aged twenty, had been
everywhere and seen everything
Angus money had taken care of all
native west, and she remained simple,
wholesome and feminine.
OF course this Columbine had her
Pierrot-in plural. That summer
there were two. of them. One was
strongly favored by Angus as future
son-in-law. Chandler was what So
ciety reporters call an eligible
bachelor" which means that he was
nearer forty than thirty. His career
had been devoted exclusively to the
sporting achievements of the un-
necessarily rich.
The other Pierrot. who had followed
Columbine to her mountain habitat,
fitted into the natural environment,
for he was a poet. Columbine had
discovered him at the University of
Chicago, where she had dabbled in
the Pierian spring as a special student
in English literature the winter be-
fore; and when few dancing parties
at the Quadrangle Club had warmed
up a casual classroom acquaintance
into something more lively, she had
invited him out to papa's principality
for a summers airing. She had been
timid in making the suggestion, for
he, being a faculty man with some
exalted title, moved on higher
academic plane than she could ever
hope to reach.
He had accepted her invitation, and
with some fishing tackle. an old rid
ing suit and an anthology of Victorian
verse in his kit, came to Paradise
Peaks to worship nature-and Column
bine. He had not suspected that he
was pursuing princess of the conti-
mental divide.
CHENT felt at a loss in the Para
" disc Peaks crowd. Although it
was affable enough, and it's wives
were pleasantly negative. it's talk
was not his talk. They were all, like
Angus, impressively rich; and also,
like John Eustace Chandler, they
were apparently adept at every ex-
travagant amusement. They had
been all over the map; and he. Rod
erick Client, had been nowhere in
particular, except to Harvard.
Moreover he had not brought along
his dress suit. He gathered that din
u-os flI1l ID affair at the
Manor, and he would have fed back
to civilization and simplicity imme-
diately if the railroad station had not
been g. hard forty, miles of motor
driving away. In a panic he rushed
to Columbine for advice, and she
calmed his embarrassment with such
tactful sympathy and resourceful-
ness that his alteration of her reach
ed a new summit of ecstasy. She
merely said. with her gentlest smile:
Don't worry. 1 think 1 can find
you what you want"
Then she pressed a button and con-
ferred with an austere major domo.
Within a few minutes an equipment
of what young Mr. Ghent, in his
lighter moments, called "soup-and
fish," was laid out in his room, COM
plete from socks to cuff links. What
was more important. the clothes At
ted him.
"Am L in the wild west or the
Arabian nights?" he asked himself
as he studied the perfect At OF some
body else's dress coat across his
shoulders.
Before Clients coming there had
been some teasing of Columbine about
her learned and poetic tenderfoot
The badinage had been led, Of course,
by Mr. Chandler of New York, who
knew all the Rocky mountains by
their first names.
In the dinner-table talk Ghent was
asked If he rode.
IT haven't been on a horse for fif-
teen years" he answered cheerfully
Did he like trout fishing?
Ghent. candor itself. did not know,
never having tried it. But he liked
y to fish.
Ah, yes; where did he do his fish,
ing?
Ghent mentioned northern Wiscon-
sin and black bass. but his remarks
were received coldly. Bait-casting
for black bass, he began to perceive,
was distinctly lower-class. Some one,
to save the situation, carelessly re-
ferred to a sea bass Weighing 421
pounds which he had caught off the
Catalina Islands after eleven hours
Of desperate battle.