The midland journal. (Rising Sun, Md.) 1885-1947, 1926-09-03

eagerness, and ran ahead of his mas
ter.
After this, for many days, Carvel
followed the trail Of the dog.
.'Mebby I'm an idiot, old chap" he.
apologized one evening. "But It's
bit OF fun, after allan I've got to
yAit3the line of rail- before J. can get
over to the mountains, 30 what's the
differencei I'm game 80 long as You
don't take me back to that chap at Lac
Balm. Now-what the devil Are you
hitting for his trap-line to get even?
II that's the case"
He blew out cloud of smoke from
his pipe as he eyed Baree. and Baree,
with his head between his forepaws.
eyed him back.
A week later Baree answered Car
vel's question by swinging westward
to give wide berth to Post Lac Balm.
It was mid-afternoon when they
crossed the trail along which Bush
McTaggart's traps and deadfalls had
been set. Baree did not even pause.
He headed due south, travelling so fast
that at times he was lost to Carvel's
sight. A suppressed but intense ex-
element possessed him, and he whined
whenever Carvel stopped to rest-al-
ways with his nose smiling the wind
out of the south. Springtime, the
flowers, the earth turning green. the
singing Of birds, and the sweet breaths
in the air were bringing him back to
that great Yesterday when he had be-
longed to Nepeese. In his unreason-
ing mind there existed no longer a
winter. The long months Of cold and
hunger were gone; In the new vision
'ings that filled his brain they were
forgotten. The birds and flowers and
the blue skies had come back, and
with them the Willow must surely
have returned, and she was waiting
for him now. just over there beyond
that rim Of green forest.
Something greater than mere curl
osity began to take possession Of Car
vel. A whimsical humor became a
fixed and deeper thought, an unreason-
ing anticipation that was accompanied
by a certain thrill Of subdued excite
ment. BY the time they reached the
old beaver-pond the mystery Of the
strange adventure had a firm hold on
him. From Beaver-tooth's colony Ba-
rec led him to the creek along which
,Wakayoo, the black bear, had fshed.
and thence straight to the Gray Loon.
1t wos early afternoon Of won
derful day. 1t was so still that the
ripping waters Of spring, singing in
thousand rills and streamlets, filled
the forests with dronlng music. In
the warm sun the crimson bakneesh
glowed like blood. In the open spaces
the air was scented with the per-
fume of Blue Flowers. In the trees
and bushes mated birds were building
their nests. After the long sleep Of
winter Nature was at work in all her
glory. 1t was Unekepesim, the Mating
Moon, the Home Building Moon-and
Baree was going home. Not to mate
hood-but to Nepeese. He knew that
she was there now. perhaps, at the
very edge of the chasm where he had
seen her last. They would be playing
together again soon. as they had
played yesterday, and the day before.
and the day before that, and in his
joy he barked up into Carvel's face,
and urged him to greater speed Then
they came to the clearing, and once
more Baree stock like a rock. Carvel
saw the charred ruins of the burned
cabin, and moment later the two
graves under the tall spruce. He be-
gan to understand as his eyes returned
slowly to the waiting, listening dog. A
great swelling rose in his throat, and
after moment or two he said softly,
and with an effort, boy, / guess
you're home"
Baree did not hear. With his head
up and his nose tilted to the blue sky
he was shifting the air. What was it
that came to him with the perfumes of
the forests and the green meadow?
Why was 1t that he trembled now as
he stood there? What was there in
the air? Carvel asked himself, and
his Questing eyes tried to answer the
questions. Nothing. There, was death
death and desertion. that was all.
And then, all at once. there came from
Baree strange cry-almost a human
cry-and he was gone like the wind.
Carvel had thrown off his pack. He
dropped his rifle beside 1t now. and
followed Baree. He ran swiftly,
straight across the open, into the
dwarf balsams, and into grass
grown path that had once been worn
by the travel Of feet. He ran until he
was painting for breath. and then
stopped and listened. He could hear
nothing of BARGE. But that old worn
trail led on under the forest trees. and