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Show 51 - -ESSI gl Corralling a Quarter Section By M. J. PHILLIPS (Copyright, 1911, by Associated Literary Pruss.) Arthur Erant was conscious of an undercurrent of hostility in the sod cabin of the Pentons. The mental atmosphere at-mosphere was as crisp as the breathless breath-less cold of the February night a cold which clutched the Dakota prairies in Iron fingers. Brant was a shy young man where women were concerned, and though he felt acutely that for some reason Hilda Penton, her parents and her ten-year-old brother had turned against him, he could not bring himself to ask why, or to worm the reason out of them by indirection. They had moved onto the quarter section adjoining his own fine farm a few weeks before. He had not learned to know them well, though he had formed the habit of dropping In on them during the evening. But now he was unwelcome. Jim Penton, usually affable and garrulous, smoked tonight in grave silence. He kept his gaze on the cracked stove, which was glowing red with its efforts to beat back the searching cold. Mrs. Penton knitted without looking up, and little Jim, who usually hung adoringly about Brant's knees, was huddled In a corner, though he peered stealthily at his friend as often as he dared. As for Hilda herself, beyond the merest monosyllabic replies to Brant's efforts to make conversation, she was ominously quiet. When her work was completed and she sat down opposite him, her blue eyes were sparkling, and her voice reminded re-minded Brant of the crackle of frosty snow under foot. "I understand, Mr. Brant, that you were down at the county seat Friday looking up the title of our quarter section." sec-tion." "Yes," replied Brant; "that's one reason I came over. The land's been advertised for unpaid taxes. It's to be sold Tuesday." "And you're going to buy it in?" The contemptuous tone cut like a lash. "No," replied Brant, simply. "Well, we can't redeem it. We had barely enough to get it. And that miserable mis-erable Sim Brockway cheated us. He i : 1 "It Was a Bad Day Even for an Enemy to Be Out." said the title was all right. Now we're to have another sample of Dakota friendship!" Angpr swept away Brant's shyness, ile rase. "You mean I'd try to get your property on tax-title?" "We were told that's how you came by your last two quarter sections." "Whoever told you that lied," said Brant, quietly. "The owners hadn't paid taxes, I'll admit. But I gave fair value for every acre, just the same." He knew who told the falsehood Peter Snyder, fat-faced, shifty-eyed Pete, who had elected himself first friend to shiftless Jim Penton and pretty, blue-eyed Hilda. And Peter was notorious as a tax-title shark. He was getting rich by taking advantage of the land-poor. "Our hundred and sixty would complete com-plete your section," drawled old Jim; "I don't wender you want it." Brant turned on him. "I don't want your land," lie said. "But if you don't raise a hundred and forty dollars by Tuesday tome one'll get it; that's sure." He strode out and closed the door behind him. Ptrhaps his musings would have been less bitter had he known lhat Hilda had cried silently for an hour nfter going to bed and her tears were not altogether for the coming com-ing loss of the farm. Tuesday dawned cloudy, cold; a, storm was in store. As Hilda looked out on the broad plain of undulating white, treeless and stark, sudden hot resentment welled up within her. For there, muffled to his eyes in a fur coat behind a swiftly jogging horse, was Arthur Brant. He was headed for the county seat, 22 miles away. She had nourished a secret hopo that Peter Snyder lied; that Brant would not seize their land. But Peter, whom she distrusted despite his plausible plaus-ible tongue, had told the truth. Brant cared more for their land than for their for her regard. Her lips trembled trem-bled pitifully as she turned from the window. The storm came f.pace. There was a wind that flew with the speed of a bullet. bul-let. A score of times during the day an unconfessed anxiety drew the girl to the window. There, melting a holo In the frost with her breath, she peered into the storm. It was a bad day even for an enemy to be out. At eight o'clock there came a muffled muf-fled knock. Hilda hurried to the door and threw It open, to recoil in amazement, amaze-ment, for the mild, patient head of a horse projected into the cabin. It was Brant's horse. With an exclamation she waded through the snow to the cutter. There was a huddled, fur-clad heap In the bottom of the vehicle. As her cry brought the others out bareheaded Into the storm, a shape detached itself from the rushing white gloom Frank Oleson, Brant's hired man. The Swede had been searching, afoot, for his master. "He bane freezing!" he cried, and fell upon Brant like a bear, cuffing, shaking and worrying him back from the verge of the dreaded sleep which has no waking. Brant roused reluctantly and looked about him, at the faithful Oleson, at the Pentons, scarcely less concerned at the cabin beyond, warm and light and cozy. His face changed as at an unpleasant memory. "Take me home, Frank," he said in a tone that brooked no disobe dience. And for the second time within a week Hilda Penton cried herself tc sleep. The last vestige of hope was gone. He had bid in their land That is why he would not trespass on their hospitality. It was three days before little Jim could go to the postofflce, two miles away. He came back with a letter an official looking article from the county seat, and a budget of news that kept him jumping up and down In excitement. The envelope was addressed to hei father, but Hilda tore it open, caught the sense at a glance, and dropped weakly Into a chair. "Mother father!" she gasped; "it's all right. We won't lose our farm. Mr. Brant has loaned us the money." Mr. and Mrs. Penton, graying heads bent together, laboriously gathered that James Penton, by his agent, Ar thur Brant, had paid the sure of $142.79, being the full amount due for back taxes and penalties on the southeast one-quarter of section Oh, it was all there, to the last lettei and figure of the description! Meanwhile, little Jim, by the ex pedient of whooping at regular in tervals. at last attracted the family's attention. "Listen to me, listen to me!" h( yelled. "Lemme tell you about the fight over to Carlin Tuesday, Bill Samuelson, he saw it." "Hey?" said his father, raising his eyes at last from the magic paper "A fight who?" "Arthur Brand and Peter Snyder,' chattered little Jim. "That mean ole Pete was there to get our land, and he had a check all made out. Bui Mr. Brant came in and said he was your agent, pa, an' had the monej ready. An' Pete called him a liar and Mr. Brant told him he was i tax-title shark, so Peta struck ai him. "And then they fought and knocked over chairs, an' the clerk climbed ui onto the desk, and Mr. Brant blacked Pete's eyes and bloodied his . nose An' Little Jim stopped, the breatt squeezed out of his body. For his sis ter, her eyes shining like twin stars was hugging him to her breast and laughing and crying at the same time. "Jim," she said, "you go and tel Arthur to come over here. I we w want to thank him, and beg his par don." " 'Tain't ne'ssary," replied Jim wriggling free. "I asked him myself An' he said he'd come." |