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Show THE STORY Ben Elliott from "Yonder" makes his entry Into the lumbering town of Tincup, bringing an old man, Don Stuart, who had been eager to reach Tincup. Nicholas Brandon, the town's leading citizen, resents Stuart's presence, trying to force him to leave town and Elliott, resenting the act, knocks him down. Judge Able Armitage hires Ben to run the one lumber camp, the Hoot Owl, that Brandon has not been able to grab. This belongs to Dawn Mc-Manus, Mc-Manus, daughter of Brandon's old partner, who has disappeared with a murder charge hanging over his head. Brandon sends his bully, Duval, Du-val, to beat up Ben, and Ben throws him out of camp. Old Don Stuart dies, leaving a letter for Elliott, "to be used when the going becomes too tough." Ben refuses to read It at this time, believing he can win the fight by his own efforts. Fire, subdued, sub-dued, Is found to have been started with gasoline. The Hoot Owl gets an offer of spot cash for timber, that will provide money to tide It over. But there is a definite time limit on the offer. Ben discovers Dawn McManus is not a child, as he had supposed, but a beautiful young woman. The railroad bridge over which the Hoot Owl lumber must pass, Is blown up. CHAPTER VII Continued 10 Ben threw more coal into the fire box, looked at his water gauge, shoved the reverse lever down into the corner and opened the throttle. The little old locomotive gave a sharp, an almost startled, bark as valves released their power, sending send-ing from its stack a great puff of cumulous vapor into the still morning morn-ing air. The drivers spun and she let go a rapid series of exhaust coughs. He shut off ; opened again, and this time the tires found purchase. pur-chase. The slack came out, the cars moved and, journals squealing, belching and stuttering, they broke over to the down grade. Elliott had her wide open, now, and the loads, on that grade, ran easily despite the binding cold In their journals. The rock and pitch of the engine were beyond belief. It seemed as though its weight must carry the light steel from its spikes as the careening threw tons of strain first one way and then the other. The curve at the trestle's approach ap-proach rushed up the valley toward him and through Elliott's mind swam all manner of misgivings. It seemed at the moment that If by any freak chance the wheels should stay on the rails, then those rails must surely give before the strain that the train's flight would exert as It took that curve. He threw one quick glance backward to see Tim Jeffers crouched on his high perch as a circus rider might stand on his boldly galloping steed. The old man chewed briskly and, as he caught a flash of Ben's face, spat and made one Impressive gesture with a mittened hand, bidding the younger man get outside. Ben had done all that he could do In the cab. Nothing within his power would be of avail if they left the track and, Inside, he would have no chance at all should the wild run come to its end in the smoking waters of the river. And so he backed into the gangway gang-way between tank and engine and slid down to the step, clinging to the hnnd rails, staring ahead, ready to let go If the worst, and the highly high-ly probable, happened. The curve was there, the length of their locomotive ahead. . . . Tiie trucks took it with a screech and a bounce and a grind. She turned sharply and Ben thought he felt her tipping, tilting, the step beneath his feet rising as the force that strove them off at a tangent asserted as-serted itself. ... He swung far out, to give her that much more balance, bal-ance, and they were straightening out with the loads thundering and clanking and leaping behind and he breathed deeply, realizing that for the interval his lungs had not functioned. func-tioned. And now they charged at the bridge, at that rough, new crossing of Hoot Owl. The engine bounced and quivered and seemed to stumble as she took the newly laid track. But she slammed back to balance and her tires chewed the frost, and they were over and charging the rise beyond ! Ben clambered hack into the cab and tugged at the throttle, cursing because It would not open wider. He strained as though by his very posture to help the machinery moot that demand upon It. Xobly, the little locomotive breasted the rise; bravely she lunged Into that hill with the exhaust roaring fit to hpnt the rusted, burned stack from her ! She spat cinders and smoke hicr.'i Into the air and the steam clouds j from the leaking gaskets enveloped Elliott, curling about him, shutting off his view. They were slowing, now. The roaring drum of the exhaust ex-haust had dropped now to a sharp panting. They were half-way up before he touched the reserve lever. He let It down slowly, a notch at a time, using every last Inch of the momentum momen-tum he had gained. Up, now, three-quarters three-quarters of the way. Ben could see the rails on the bit of level going at the top. Up another train's length, slowing with each foot gained. Afar off, across the snow-blanketed snow-blanketed country, a plume of white vapor trailed a break In the forests. That .was the local, crossing the river, riv-er, swinging In toward his siding. "Go it, girl I Go It, girl I" he yelled at the engine, swinging one fist. She shoved her nose over the crest, seeming to weave it from side as in distress. Her drivers slipped and spun a half turn ; caught on sand, held. She began a stuttering, stutter-ing, dying puff. The sound wavered. wav-ered. She seemed to stop. , , . and cleared her cylinders with a short belch. ... She was on top. Her last breath had turned the trick. "Hold to it, old timer! Hold to it I" Ben croaked. The first car gained the crest. The locomotive was on the down grade, now; the second car coming across the peak. The third car rumbled over the top and Tim Jef- Half a Mile Down the Track the Local Pulled in Toward Him. fers, 'dropping his peavey, wormed along the logs and (lopped down to the brake wheel as Ben shut her off, set the brakes and with a boyish boy-ish swing of one arm yanked on the whistle cord to set her voice screaming. scream-ing. Back on the last car Tim clubbed brake wheels. Out on the first, Ben Elliott drove the shoe home. The ancient locomotive dug her heels in and settled back. Down and down they went on the frost slick steel, gathering speed that was as alarming as the slowing of their pace had been a moment before. But with every train length traveled trav-eled Tim Jeffers was setting more brakes against the humming wheels. She slid, she slipped, she squealed and complained and clattered her way down that final mile. They had her under control at last and slowly they edged around the curve at the millpond, out onto the siding and to a full stop. Ben, dropping down, ran across to the main line and held up his hand. Half a mile down the track the local puffed In toward him. The whistle sent up its cloud of steam at his signal, he heard the engineer shutting off and In minutes the train slid in, brakes grinding. "That stuff go?" the conductor called, swinging down from the way car. "That stuff goes !" Ben said almost al-most reverently and turned to face Tim who was filling his pipe with unsteady hands. It was a moment for the right word. But Tim Jeffers was not a man-of man-of words; not of many words. "Well, you done it," he said simply. sim-ply. "Yeah. With your help." "Still needin' a camp boss?" "Badly !" "S'pose I'd do?" "Do I Lord, Tim, if" "All right I'm hired to got out logs apuin. Guess I'll hit Mr. Bul-ler Bul-ler for a cuppa carfee. I've rode trains now 'nd ag;:in, Con, but of all the rides I've ever took that was what yon might call th' dang-desl dang-desl !" Iu a .MlrsiH'Snra lumber n bearded man sat near the stove In a small lintel and heard the story of what was happening in distaut Tincup. "Know him?" another listener asked the narrator. "Not the kid. I know Brandon, 'nd I know Tim Jeffers. Top loaded load-ed for blm three winters. If Tim's back there's a hot scrap on and . . . gosh I but I like scraps." "Mean you're pulling for Tin cup?" "I'll say I am I" The bearded man cleared his throat. "You think, then, that the lad's got a chance of making it against Brandon?" he asked. "It sure looks as if he had a chance. With old Tincup shanty boys hitting back for their stamping stamp-ing grounds his chances are getting better. Ever been in Tincup, Martin?" Mar-tin?" The other closed the blade of his pocket knife and pulled at the lobe of his left ear with his hand. "I've heard of the place," he said quietly. "Better hoist your turkey and come along with me. Likely he could find a place for a good bookkeeper." book-keeper." Martin smiled oddly but made no other response. In far flung camps and mill towns the story was being repeated, Just such men were leaving jobs and turning their faces toward Tincup, known through the Lake states for the tyranny that Nicholas Brandon had exercised there so many years. Ben, sitting with his feet on Abie's desk in the justice's office, grinned broadly as he told of the latest developments on the job. "Sixty-four men In camp this morning," he said. "Over thirty of 'em new and the best looking bunch of loggers I've seen since I was a kid." Able glanced at a letter he had been holding. "And with the Milwaukee people standing ready to finance us it looks as if you might, maybe, perhaps per-haps be getting ready to find it all down hill and shady, Ben. I think that interesting this particular bank is the best piece of work you've done yet." "Nothing, Able. All I had to show was what we were doing. They can't lose with the lumber behind their notes." "Unless Brandon finds a way. "You've got to watch every loophole, loop-hole, Benny. And you've got too much for one man to do." "Oh, it's not that bad. Things are straightening out. Tim's a wonder; Buller isn't missing a bet. We ought to keep right on stepping." Ben rose to go and, as he did so, the door opened and Dawn Mc-Manus Mc-Manus stepped in out of the lightly falling snow. "Oh !" she cried In surprise. It was the first time she had seen Ben since that morning a month ago when he took the veneer logs on their mad ride to save the Hoot Owl operation from Immediate insolvency. in-solvency. "Am I interrupting?" "Come in, Dawn," said Able, rising. ris-ing. And Elliott said: "If you are, It's nice to be Interrupted." She looked at him and, at first, her eyes held that coolness which was almost hostility but this melted melt-ed and she smiled. "You say nice things, Ben Elliott El-liott !" "How can anyone help saying nice things to nice people?" She made a playful mouth at him and Ben watching her as she advanced to Abie's desk, thought again that he never had supposed women grew to such loveliness. Her errand with the old justice was brief. She and Ben went out together, Dawn on her way home, Ben to finish his errands in town. At the corner where their ways parted they stopped and Dawn hesitated in what she had been saying. say-ing. Then, looking Into his face, she asked : "Does Mr. Ben Elliott ever take tea with a young woman? You know, I am beginning to think that I like to talk to you I" "Then the risk of having It reported re-ported that I'm a lounge lizard Is as nothing." The house where Dawn lived was the house In which she had been born, a sprawling white frame structure beneath whispering hemlocks. hem-locks. The fine odor of baking - bread permeated the place and as they entered Dawn lilted her voice In a light hall: "Oh-bo, Aunt Em !" Sounds came from the rear; a door opened and closed, and then another door opened which gave into the room where they stood, and an ample woman in a checked apron, her face flushed as by stove heat, entered hastily. "Yes, dearie Well I" stopping In surprise. "Aunt Em, this Is Mr. Elliott. "How d'y do!" Her voice was full and deep, like a man's. "I've seen yon, young man, and if I was a hand to say what most folks say I'd tell you that I feel like we're old friends." She shook hands vig-ously. vig-ously. "You're a big young feller. Ben Elliott!" eyeing him up and down. Dawn laughed again as she drew off her coat. "Don't you tell a soul. Aunt Em, hut we are going to have tea! If his shanty hoys ever hoard n!)i",t if they might think he was toe wich civilized for them." Tshaw! As If what other folks think counts!" She looked narrowly at Dawn and lien saw the girl's face change. "It's what I've told Dawn ever since she was little, Ben, that It's what you think about your own self that matters; not what anybody else thinks. Well I You two set nnd I'll get tea." She hurried out and Ben drew up a comfortable chair before the fire. In the half hour that elapsed before be-fore the older woman returned Ben learned much about Dawn McManus. This was her bouse, her home. Aunt Em, then a young woman, had been housekeeper, there after Dawn's mother died. She had stayed on, keeping the place up through the years that Dawn was away at school, making a living for herself by baking, and now that Dawn was home again she was the girl's closest friend and only confidant "There are so many people here now who are not . . . No, I'll put it the other way: I'm not congenial con-genial company for many people in this country. It isn't their fault It's wholly mine. People have a right to their opinions, of course. Evidence was strong against my father. fa-ther. But he was no killer. He never harmed anyone. I'm sure of that. When people think of him as alive and a fugitive or dead and disgraced it stirs my temper 1 You've beard about my father." "Of course." "Naturally, you would." They talked, after that, of personal per-sonal tastes, of the glories of big country, of the limited recreations offered by little towns. "Just the movies I Now and then there's a dance," the girl said, "but none of the boys seem to want to take me. ... It Is my fault, likely." like-ly." She was staring moodily into the fire. "I frighten them away. Mr. Brandon asks me to go to the movies now and then, but ... I don't know . . ." "So Brandon wants to amuse you, does he?" "Yes. ne's been awfully kind to me, always. Of course, I know that Able and a lot of people think he's after the Hoot Owl and is quite ruthless about it, but they can prove nothing. He was so good to me when I was little and talks so reasonably rea-sonably to me now that I can't believe their suspicions are well founded. Still . . . Things do seem to happen at Hoot OwL Mr. Brandon's explanation of the fire and dynamiting is that you made an enemy of Bull Duval and his friends, and that they are striking back for spite. That sounds reasonable, rea-sonable, doesn't it?" "Yes," said Ben, unwilling to argue ar-gue any such point with her. At this juncture Aunt Em came in with food that was surpassingly fine and for an" hour they sat and talked while darkness fell. Ben was rising to go when the doorbell rang. Aunt Em went to answer the summons, and as a man's voice sounded in the hallway Dawn broke short what she had started to say. A moment later Nicholas Brandon entered the room. The man's face, as he crossed the threshold and saw Ben, was a study. Lights flickered in his black eyes, a faint flush whipped up over his dead white cheeks and he opened his lips as In a gasp of surprise sur-prise or else preparatory to sharp speech. But he gathered himself on the instant, moved directly to Dawn and with an even, kindly tone greeted her. The girl turned as Brandon still held her hand and Ben thought she was moving it gently for release. "Mr. Elliott, I think you must know Mr. Brandon." Ben bowed, a bit stiffly. "Yes," he said. "Yes. I met him once." Then Nicholas Brandon did an amazing thing, which went far In explaining Dawn's skepticism of the town's attitude toward him to Elliott He laughed. He laughed easily, naturally, and In the laughter laugh-ter was an admission of embarrassment embarrass-ment which rang true. "Indeed we have! Under different circumstances I How are you today, to-day, Elliott?" He advanced and extended ex-tended his hand, still smiling, and Ben was so amazed that mechanically mechan-ically he accepted It "Yes, we've met before," turning to Dawn and Aunt Em "under quite distressing circumstances, We met on unfriendly un-friendly ground, and both lost our heads a little. I hope Mr. Elliott doesn't harbor any resentment As far as I'm concerned, I've only regret re-gret for the affair!" He smiled at Dawn and then at Ben, and for the life of him Elliott could think of nothing adequate to say for an Instant When he did speak, he said levelly: "In a lady's house the only thing to do Is to reply In kind. Isn't that true?' The other bowed slightly, but his eyes did not meet Elliott's.' "I'm glad you are so generous," he said, and probably only Ben caught the mockery in the tone. "Am I too late for ten, Dawn?" Aunt Em, standing in the doorway, door-way, watched this with grimly set lips. Dawn replied that Brandon was only just in tl.'ne and Ben, picking up his cap and coat, prepared pre-pared to go. "You were talking of dances," he I said to Dawn. "There's one on the j cards for Saturday night, I'm told, j Would you mind going with a mere j employee?" (TO BR CONTINUED.) |