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Show if' Br JO ii Si Kill' via liiUSCi g Q IRWIN MYERS i Q Copyright br Harper A Brothers & 5 very serious misstep. He practiced absolute honesty in nil his relation-ships. relation-ships. His f.uher, drunken although lie was in Ids Inter years. h;id never quite lost his sense of couiinerciiil uprightness, up-rightness, unci Dave had inherited the quality in full degree. And Keenie Manly had come into his life just when he needed a girl like Reenie Hardy to come into his life. ... He often thought of Beenie Hardy, and of her compact with hini. and wondered won-dered what the end would be. He was glad he had met Iteenie Hardy. She was an anchor about his soul. . . . And Edith Duncan. While the gradually deepening current cur-rent of Dave's life flowed through t lie channels of coal heaver, freight handler, han-dler, shipping clerk and reporter its waters were sweetened by the intimate inti-mate relationship which developed between be-tween him and the members of the Duncan household. He continued Ins studies under Mr. Duncan's directions; direc-tions; two, three, and even four nights in the week found him at work in the comfortable den, or, during the warm weather, on the screened porch that overlooked the family garden. Mrs. Duncan, motherly, and yet not too motherly she might almost have been an older sister appealed to the young man as an ideal of womanhood. Her soft, well-modulated voice seemed to him to express the perfect harmony of (he perfect home, and underneath its even tones he caught glimpses or a reserve of power and judgment not easily unbalanced. And as Dave's eyes would follow her the tragedy of his own orphaned life bore down upon him and he rebelled that he had been denied the start which such a mother ' could have given him. "I am twenty years behind myself," he would reflect, with a grim smile. "Never mind. I will do three men's work for the next ten, and then we will be even." And there was Edith Edith who had burst so unexpectedly upon his life that first evening in her father's home. He had not allowed himself any foolishness about Edith. It was called early and found Edith in a riding rid-ing habit. "Mother is 'indisposed,' as they sny in the society page." she explained, "in other words, she doesn't wish to lie bothered. So 1 thought we would ride today." "Rut there are only two horses," said Dave. "Well?" queried the girl, and there was -a note In her voice that sounded strange to him. "There are only two of us." "But Mr. Forsyth?" "He is not here. He may not come. Will you saddle the horses and let us get away?" It was evident to Dave that for some reason Edith wished to evade Forsyth this afternoon. A lovers' quarrel, no doubt. That she had a preference for him and was revealing It with the utmost frartkness never occurred to his sturdy, honest mind. One of the delights of his companionship with Edith had been that It was a real companionship. com-panionship. None of the limitations occasioned by any sex consciousness had narrowed the sphere of the frank friendship he felt for her. She was to him almost as another man, yet in no sense masculine. Save for a certain tender delicacy which her womanhood inspired, he came and went with her as he might have done with a man chum of his own age. And when she preferred to ride without Forsyth it did not occur to Elden that she preferred to ride with him. They were soon in the country, and Edith, leading, swung from the road to a bridle trail that followed the winding of the river. As her graceful figure drifted on ahead it seemed more than ever reminiscent of Reenie Hardy. What rides they had had on those foothill trails! What dippings into the great canyons ! ' What adventures adven-tures into the spruce forests! And how long ago it all seemed! This girl, riding ahead, suggestive in every curve and pose of Reenie Hardy. . . . His eyes were burning with loneliness. He knew he was dull that day, and Edith was particularly charming and vivacious. She coaxed him into conversation con-versation a dozen times, but he answered an-swered tibsent-mindedly. At length she leaped from her horse and seated herself, facing the river, on a fallen log. Without looking back she indicated in-dicated with her hand the space beside be-side her, and Dave followed and sat down. "You aren't talking today," she said. "You don't quite do yourself justice. What's wrong?" "Oh, nothing!" he answered, with a laugh, pulling himself together. "This September weather always gets me. I guess I have a streak of Indian; it comes of being brought up on the ranges. And in September, after the first frosts have touched the foliage " He paused, as though It was not necessary nec-essary to say more. "Yes, I know," she -said quietly. Then, with a queer little note of confidence, con-fidence, "Don't apologize for it, Dave." "Apologize?" and his form straightened. straight-ened. "Certainly not. . . . One doesn't apologize for nature, does he? . . . But it comes back in Septem- He smiled, and she thought the subconscious sub-conscious in him was calling up the smell of fire in dry grass, or perhaps even the rumble of buffalo over the hills. And he knew he smiled because he had so completely misled her. . . . It was dusk when they started homeward. Forsyth was waiting for her. Dave scented stormy weather and excused himself early. "What does this mean?" demanded Forsyth angrily as soon as Dave had gone. "Do you think I will take second sec-ond place to that that coal heaver?" "That is not to his discredit," she said. "Straight from the corrals into good society," Forsyth sneered. . Then she made no pretense of composure. com-posure. "If you have nothing more to urge against Mr. Elden perhaps you will go." Forsyth took bis hat. At the door he paused and turned, but she was already al-ready ostensibly Interesred in a magazine. maga-zine. He went out Into the night. The week was a busy one with Dave and he had no opportunity to visit the Duncans. Friday Edith called him on the telephone. She asked an inconsequential inconse-quential question about something which had appeared in the paper, and from that the talk drifted on until it turned on the point of their expedition of the previous Sunday. Dave never could account quite clearly how It happened, hap-pened, but when he hung up the receiver re-ceiver he kuew he had asked her to ride with him again on Sunday, and she had accepted. He had ridden with her before, of course, but he had never asked her before. He felt that a subtle change had come over their relationship. relation-ship. The way of a maid with a man. (TO Bti CONTINUED.) DAVE AND EDITH. Synopsis. David KMen. son of a drunken, shiftless ranWiman. almost, al-most, a maverick of the foothills. Is breaking bottles with tiis pistol from his running cayuse when the first automobile he lias ever seen arrives anil tips over, breaking t tie leg of Doctor Hardy but not Injuring Injur-ing his beautiful daughter Irene. Dave rescues the Injured man and brings a doctor from 40 miles away. Irene takes charge of ttie housekeeping. Dave and Irene take many rides together and daring her fattier's enforced stay they get well acquainted. They part with a kiss and an implied promise. Dave's father dies and Dave goes to town to seek his fortune. A man named Conward teaches him his first lessons les-sons in city ways. Dave has a narrow nar-row escape, Is disgusted and turns over a new leaf, i-'ate brings him Into contact with Melv-in Duncan, who sees the inherent good In the boy and welcomes him to his home, where he meets Kdith, tiis host's pretty daughter. Hi g CHAPTER V Continued. 8 Dave's energy and enthusiasm in the warehouse soon brought him promotion pro-motion from truck hand to shipping clerk, with an advance in wages to sixty-five dollars a month. He was prepared to remain in this position for some time, as he knew that promotion depends on many things besides ability. abil-ity. Mr. Duncan had warned him against the delusion that man is entirely en-tirely master of bis destiny. But Dave was not to continue in the grocery trade. A few evenings later be was engaged in reading in the public" library. Mr. Duncan had directed him into the realm of fiction and poetry, and he was now feeling his way through "Hamlet." On the evening In question an elderly man engaged him In conversation. "You are a Shakespearean student, I see?" "Not exactly. I read a little in the evenings." "I have seen you here different times. Are you well acquainted with the town?" "Pretty well," said Dave, scenting that there might be a purpose In the questioning. "Working now?" Dave told hitn where he was employed. em-ployed. "1 am the editor of the Call," said the elderly man. "We need another man on the street ; a reporter, you know. We pay twenty-five dollars a -week for such a position. If you are interested you might call at the office tomorrow." Dave hurried with his problem to Mr. Duncan. "I think I'd like the work," he said, "but I am not sure whether I can do it. My writing is rather wonderful." Mr. Duncan turned the matter over in his mind. "Yes," be said at length, "but I notice you are beginning to use the typewriter. When you learn that God gave you ten fingers, not two, you may make a typist. And there Is nothing more worth while than being able to express yourself in English. They'll teach you that on a Newspaper. I. think I'd take it. "Not on account of the money," be continued,, after a little. "You would probably soon be earning more in the wholesale business. Newspaper men are about the worst paid of all professions. pro-fessions. But it's the best training in the world, not for itself but as a step to something else. The training is worth, while, and it's the training you want. Take it." Dave explained bis disadvantages to the editor of the Call. "I didn't want you to I'liuk." he said, with great frankness. ":hat because I was reading read-ing Shakespeare I was a master of English. And I guess if I were to write up stuff in Hamlet's language I'd get canned for it." "We'd probably have a deputation from the Moral Reform league." said the editor with a dry smile. "Just the same, if you know Shakespeare you know English, and we'll soon break you into the newspaper style." So almost before be knew It Dave was on the staff of the Call. His heat comprised the police court, fire department, depart-ment, hotels and general pick-ups. Dave almost immediately found the need of acquaintanceships. The isolation iso-lation of his boyhood had bred in him qualities of aloofness which had now to be overcome. He was not naturally a good "mixer;" he preferred his own company, but his own company would not bring him much news. So he set about deliberately to cultivate acquaintance ac-quaintance with the members of the police force and the fire brigade and the clerks In the hotels. And he had in his character a quality of sincerity which gave him almost instant admission admis-sion into their friendships. He had not suspected the charm of his own personality, and its discovery, feeding upon his new born enthusiasm for friendships, still further enriched the (barm. As his acquaintance with the work of the police force increased Dave found bis attitude toward moral principles prin-ciples in need o frequent readjustment. readjust-ment. By no means a Puritan, he had nevertheless two sterling qualities which so far had saved him from any "Well?" Queried the Girl, and There Was a Note in Her Voice That Sounded Strange to Him. evident Edith was pre-empted, just as he was pre-empted, and the part of honor in his friend's house was to recognize rec-ognize the stntus quo. . . . Still, Mr. Allan Forsyth was unnecessarily self-assured. He might have made it less evident that he was within the enchanted circle while Dave remained outside. His complacence irritated Dave almost into rivalry. But the bon camaraderie of Edith herself checked any adventure of lhat kind. She was of about the same figure as Reenie Hardy a little slighter perhaps; per-haps; and about t'se same age; and she had the same quick, frank eyes. And she sang wonderfully. He had never heard Keenie sing, hut in some strange way be had formed a tleep conviction that she would sing much as Editl) sang. In love, as in religion, man is forever setting up idols to represent rep-resent his ideals and forever finding feet of clay. Dave was not long in discovering that bis engagement as coachman was a device, born of Mr. Duncan's kindness, kind-ness, to enable him to accept instruction instruc-tion without feeling under obligation for it. When he made this discovery he smiled quietly to himself and pre-tended pre-tended not to have made it. To have acted otherwise would have seemed ungrateful to Mr. Duncan. And presently pres-ently the drives began to have a strange attraction of themselves. When they drove in the two-seated buggy on Sunday afternoons the party usually comprised Mrs. Duncan and Edith, young Forsyth and Dave. Mr. Duncan was interested in certain Sunday-afternoon meetings. It was Mrs. Duncan's custom to sit in the rear seat for its belter riding qualities, and it bad a knack of falling about that Ediih would ride in the front seat with the driver. She caused Forsyth to ride with her mother, ostensibly as a courtesy to that young gentleman a courtesy which, it may be conjectured, conjec-tured, was not fully appreciated. At first be accepted it with the good nature na-ture of one who feels bis position secure, se-cure, but gradually that good nature gave way to a certain testiness of spirit which he could not entirely conceal. con-ceal. . . . The crisis was precipitated one fine Sunday in September, in Hie first year of Dave's newspaper experience. Dave |