The Carbon County news. [volume] (Red Lodge, Mont.) 1924-1931, 1931-03-19
The Girl in the
Narrow Trail
By LEETE STONE

sone ufst TO recuperate from severe
strain suffered during the success
ful supervision of a difficult under
taking. Utterly charmed with the
picturesque environment, George re-
turned a second season to secure
from the state a section of land in
a lovely mountain valley. He pic
tured a summer home; spacious
lodge structure of logs, with a ire
mendous fireplace and all that har-
monies with solid comfort for men.
The site was perfeet-a rounded,
! plateau-like inset that the ages had
chiseled in a gradual ascent of
piney woods, rising from the shore
of charming lake about an acre
in expanse. As far as George could
see there was just one eyesore in
the perspective from what he hoped
would soon be the wide veranda of
his friendly lodge-a mountaineers
cabin. Ugly and unkempt, its fringe
Uttered with a border of rusty tin
cans, it stood in an open, grassy
swale just below the dam. Easy
enough, he reasoned. Pay the
mountaineer. whom he rarely
glimpsed, a sufficient sum of money
| TO move.
On rare day when the hill air
was as zestful as wine, George
sprang on his powerful black SAD
dler, Rob Roy, and rode the ten
miles to the tiny settlement which
boasted the nearest post office.
There, at last, he found favorable
word from the state regarding his
purchase. A steep price WAS named
for wild land, but George was glad
to pay it. In his minds eye al
ways was the picture of a deep,
wide lodge living room with mas
sive inviting leathern chairs; his
many books; and slow-burning
hearth fire. Then there came to
him the feeling that this home in
the hills should have mistress as
we'll as master. But the thought
was speedily relinquished because
women had not figured actively In
Georges busy life.
Soon after acquiring title to his
land George was surprised, while
riding Rob Roy over narrow ledge.
to see his neighbor who lived in the
ugly cabin below the dam step out
as If from nowhere directly in his
path. A lean Winchester nestled
in the crook of the natives arm.
T., hnf mi int IN
scare yuh. None at all. Jest wanter
infolim yuh 'twon't be healthy fer
yuh tub build one o. them fancy
places an bring yer foreign friends
down inter our woods. They's
more'n one o us round ere, and
we means it. Jest tellin' yuh, that's
all y The speakers dingy leather
sandals made no sound as he turned
abruptly into the thick underbrusn.
disdaining to wait for reply.
Another mile and George was
very near his own land, when an
other and vitality different vision
materialized in the narrow trail di-
rectly ahead. Very different in
deed! A symphony Of slim girlhood
in clean starched Bingham with the
hint of young romance and more
| than hint of solicitude in eyes
| that were wide, dark-lashed and
heavenly blue.
Black Rob Roy reared his head
| in equine CONSERVATION, and George
of a sudden saw the index finger
of Fate pointing to his feminine
| Destiny. A slim. brown hand
reached aloft and earessed Rob
Roy's silken nose. The girl breathed
with difficulty and spoke with
earnestness
Listen, please. I saw Father
stop you. l heard what he said /;
and please, oh please, be careful
Dads one of the old-time mountain
eers-feud and fight men, I call
them. He thinks your land is his.
You see, | live with my aunt over
in Somers-go to high school there !;
but he lives alone fishing and hunt
ing the land you've bought. Do you
seer
81 see and I'll heed" George an
swered.
The old story: love at first
glimpse. For month there were
stolen meetings in green, secluded
vistas of the great forest until a
sacred troth was plighted. George
Lane sought the mountaineer IA
Their with generous offers. Refusals
and sterner warnings were the an
swer. Twice bullet singed the
green leaves that brushed Georges
hat as he rode the lonely trails.
Then the unforgettable night; the
night George Lane left his sweet
heart at her gate and raced Rob
Roy home in the face of a driving
rain; the night he wakened to find
| her ghost-white and shaking beside
his army cot in his lonely cabin.
"It's a cloudburst, Jiggs," so she
called him, "and Dad-Dad's or
the roof Of his cabin with the water
rising round him. It's hundred
feet right now in that spot-and he
can't swimw
"Come onl Lane shouted above
the fury of the downpour outside
"Leave it to old Rob Roy"
It's all a sequel or another story
the dash of George Lane and his
mountain sweetheart to the edge
OF the roaring torrent, the bolt
plunge Of Rob Roy, his gallant
struggle to the center of the mael
strom where the drenched noun
taineer chung, teeth gritting, while
the girl watched from high on thu
hillside
All that matters Is the rescued
| tpsx xor,lu "a G0nrno,c ro