The Ely miner. [volume] (Ely, Minn.) 1895-1986, 1940-02-01
CHAPTER VIII-COntinued

ally upon Bruce that Autumn was
leading this free life Of hers with
some Interior purpose. He could
not think of her running wild from
choice. Nor had he ever been able
TO understand her violent change
of manner toward him, unless the
Laird himself had brought it about
by something he had told her, by
some peremptory ban he had placed
upon their relationship. Even then
he could not credit the change. Au-
tumn was too willful, too independ-
ent, to permit even her father to
make up her mind for her. Some
thing else, something of which he
was in total ignorance, was behind
1t all. But whatever it was, there
was no other course for him except
a harsh discipline In forgetting.
An utter loneliness enveloped him
now as he assembled the scantily tim
bered, wild mountain reaches. Over
only a short distance toward the
north, In the completely still, mys-
ferrous folds of the hills, lay the
Dean summer range, skirting his
own. Across deep valley, spread
over the palely green mountain-side
opposite, one of the units of the
Laird's flock was dimly discernible.
Trained though his eyes were to the
ambiguity of vast distances, it was
all Bruce could do to distinguish
mosphere. But across the vacancy
there came to him, piercingly sweet,
the sound of a bell He knew that
bel-there was only one like it any
where In the Upper Country. 1t
was Autumn Deans Basque bell.
The sound of it had drawn him
across the valley on his last trip,
nearly a month ago now, and he
had spent an hour Of the afternoon
with the young Irish lad who was
one of the Laird's herders. He would
never forget the wistful blue eyes
of the boy and the eagerness with
which he strove to prolong the visit.
As the sound of the bell struck
across his senses now, Bruce strove
grinly to repudiate the significance,
TO himself, of that sound. It was
sheer sentimentality on his own part
that the bell seemed to chime Au-
tumn's name. He resolved that on
his next trip into the hills he would
leave home early enough to turn
aside and spend an hour with the
young herder. He would do so to-
day but that he had to get back in
time for an appointment he had
made that night with buyer in
Kamloops.
It was late that evening when
Bruce drew up to the curb and got
from his car before a gray, wealth
cred building that had served as a
trading post in the old days. The
structure housed a billiard parlor
now and was known locally as
''Sandy's Place" 1t had become a
rendezvous for cattle and sheep
men, ranch hands seeking employ
ment, and nondescript transients.
But despite the determination of the
years to mold it to a less romantic
form, there clung about it still some
of the pUngent, zestful air of times
gone by when SourdoughS and che
chahcos drifted In for a nights Iodg-
ing and game of poker. The pro-
prietoE was a rugged old Scotchman
who had himself been a prospector
on Williams Creek.
There were not more than a half
dozen idlers In the front room of the
place when Bruce entered. He
looked them over and sauntered into
the back room, pausing in the door
way 10 glance about for the buyer
he had come to see. He discov-
cred his man in far corner of the
smoke-flled room, seated at a poker
table with four others. Bruce moved
across the room and spoke to him.
The buyer looked up. Hello, Lam
dor!" he greeted.
Bruce spoke to the other men at
the table.
Buy stack and sit in, Landor,"
one Of them invited.
Not tonight" Bruce replied. I'm
going home to bed as soon as I've
had a word with Myers, here"
'sPl be with you In a minute"
said Myers.
Bruce lighted a cigarette and
watched the progress of the play.
He was not sure just what had
drawn his attention to a conversa-
ton at the table behind him, but
presently the mention of Jarvis
Deans name caused him to glance
around. Curly Belfort, a rancher
from the Ashcroft district, was do
ing the talking while the others lis
tened. Belfort had evidently been
drinking. Bruce gave his attention
to the game at Myers table.
The click of the chips and the
monotonous sound of voices lay
drowsily upon his senses after a
day IA the mountains.
Belfort's voice thrust itself bolster
ously upon his consciousness. Bruce
could not help hearing the words.
and, by God, if there wasn't
old Deans daughter standin' up out
o. the haystack, an stretchin' her
self at seven o'clock In the mornin'.
An says to young Parr, DO you
think I'm runnin' country hotel, or
somethin'? Or is this the way they
do IL In Europe?' says. But he
kept on tinkerin' with his car" Bel
fort laughed heartily at his own
joke. Some gal the Laird's brat
has turned out to be, spendin' the
night N a haystack with"
Bruce had got UP abruptly and
stepped over beside Belfort, his face
gone suddenly white, his mouth fixed
In slight, contemplative smile as
he stood looking down at the ranch
er.
you've had too much to drink.
Curly" Bruce interrupted him.