Askov American. [volume] (Askov, Pine County, Minn.) 1914-current, 1926-02-18

walk. On my hide o. ne wagon. W
tYudged along for some distance II
silence, save Tor my occasional words
or rebuke and exhortation to the oxen
you're cross at me-. she said at
length.
.rm not why said that can't
imagine. was, and wanted her to
know 1t.
II didn't mean to offend you,. she
went on. Marjorie was just little
bit spiteful." s
II know she was" agreed. ..But
you shouldn't have gone walking with
him"
.Whyr
"He was stranger. You didn't even
know his name"
Il do now. It's Harold Brook. Be
sides. in this country. you don't have
to- know peoples names You just
speak anyway"
"Oh. do your" l said. sarcastically
ESQ see"
Don't be cross" she ceaxed. "See,
can beat you to that badger hole.
One
She was OF like the wind. For
momenH ! hesitated, then joined In the
race. But she had too much start, and
besides, she was almost match for
me. She reached the little mound first,
and as she turned she swerved little
from her course, and happened to
plunge into her. To save herself from
falling she seized me about the neck,
and her hair brushed against my
face. -.
We walked back slowly, arm in arm,
and had sense Of being very much
Of brute. =. Jean had wound me
around her little finger.
There are certain thrills of accom-
plishment, certain epochs Of develop
ment, which come only once in life
time One Of these is when a young
man writes his first check, or first
turns his key in his own door, or first
sees his name on an Office signboard.
But the greatest is when he first looks
upon land he can call his own. True.
this land was not yet ours, but it was
pledged to US If we carried out our
part Of very simple agreement, and
already we had proprietary interest
In It. We showed it to the girls with
the pride Of mother displaying her
first born. We were desperately anx.
ious that our choice should be justi-
fed.
We waited for their verdict, but
neither spoke. well. what do you
think of it?" Jack asked at length.
ut looks all right" said Marjorie.
II suppose It is as good as any. But
I don't see how you are going to tell
1t from other peoples land It's all
alike"
what do you say, Jeanr
But Jean was looking at the sunset.
where the Master Artist was splashing
pastels Of bronze. and copper against
background Of silver and champagne.
Wonderful, wonderfull" she muir
INJURED.
Fourteen Is Franks and Twenty
two Is mine," Jack explained. "Well
pitch the tent for the girls here, and
Frank may do as he likes, but I'm go
Ing to cross the gully and sleep to-
night under my own vine and fig tree.
so to speak. My six months residence
begins tonight"
Zig tree" Marjorie exclaimed.
'"The trees around here are just about
high enough to tickle your ear-when
you're. lying down."
"You haven't seen the trees yet"
said Jack, knowingly "Now. let's
pitch camp"
We dragged the tent close to the
brow Of the gully and pitched It on the
spot where we had planned that my
shack should be. We also unloaded
part of our equipment so that we
could make use of 1t In the housekeep-
Ing operations It was with great zest
that we carried our cookstove to the
door Of the tent and strung up two or
three lengths Of pipe. In few minutes
Jack appeared from somewhere with
an armful of wood, and as the dark.
ness settled down we gathered about
q fire on our own farms, for the first
time in our lives.
And so we chartered on, saying moth
ing Of moment but feeling the great
Joy Of possession yelling in our hearts.
1t was day and night to be lived
over many time in memory. For the
first time In our lives we were drink
ing of the wells Of possession-the en-
chanted streams which draw men and
women into the wilderness to live and
die on the outposts of civilization.
We had finished supper, and the gray
gloom Of twilight was crawling slowly
up from the east when sharp, whis-
Ting rustic. almost above us brought
the girls to their feet with start
what was thatl" Jean exclaimed.
ut was almost like bullet"
"Nay. nay" said Jack. INDUCING in
very sorry joke. sit is ducklet."
"A ducklet? What ducklet?"
THAT my dear sister, was the
whistle from the wing of wild duck.
darling into the darkness at a couple
Of hundred miles an hour. He had just