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Show i The Valley of Voices By GEORGE MARSH ' Author of "Toiler of the Trail" "The Whelps of the Wolf" (Copyright by the Penn Publtshlni Co.) (W. N. U. Service.) a definite plan of campaign could be framed. On a morning when the warm September Sep-tember sun, lifting the low-lying river mists, rolled them back on ridges, here and there already necked with the yellow and gold of a frost-painted birch or poplar. Denise St. Onge appeared ap-peared at breakfast In whipcord and heavy boots. Steele stared In surprise at the change in face nnd manner of his hostess. The ghost of worry bad left her eyes, which shone with high spirits. Her mood of silence had given way to a gayety foreign to his knowledge knowl-edge of her. "This beautiful morning, monsieur, Charlotte and J go to wave an au revoir to the summer which passes." "Charlotte is to be envied," he replied, re-plied, charmed with the note of cheerfulness. cheer-fulness. Her eyes lighted with amusement. "It is possible that it might be arranged ar-ranged that we take with us a bodyguard," body-guard," she said archly. "Of course, it is not for ladies to demand the presence of cavaliers " "Take me, oh fair lady, as thy knight !" he begged. "Laggard though you are; you may escort us to my watch tower, where Charlotte and I go to play the spring north, and to wave a bon voyage to the last of the geese." "It is charming of you, mademoiselle, mademoi-selle, to allow me to go," he said, delighted at having the girl to himself in her gay mood, Accompanied by the stolid Charlotte, carrying a birch bark basket containing contain-ing the' lunch, and whose swart face 'I often came here to dream anf! play away the day that Is, I did," she laughed, "Poor Charlotte at times was bored, oh, so bored ! Was it not so, Charlotte?" "Enh, enh ! Yes !" mumbled the OJlb-way OJlb-way woman, who sat on a rock apart from the two. her restless eyes sweeping sweep-ing the scrub below them. "Charlotte is not bored now; she's scared to death," suggested Steele with a laugh. "Has she not reason, monsieur?" protested Denise. "But we have not been here, she and I, since midsummer. midsum-mer. And I miss it so." "You fear to come here now believe be-lieve in this thing?" He welcomed the opportunity to put 'the question directly. di-rectly. The dark eyes frankly met his. "Is there not good reason, monsieur, for fear in a woman? After the fur canoe and that night?" Natural as had been her reply, Steele intuitively sensed that she was dissembling to avoid bis inevitable questioning was willing to have him believe that she, too, was a victim of the general superstition. But she had betrayed herself the morning her father cut short her half-uttered warning. warn-ing. Well, the day was young and he - feared to press her then for an explanation ex-planation of what she patently desired de-sired to avoid. So with a nodded assent as-sent to her question, he changed the subject. "We are to have gay music today, mademoiselle. You remember, you promised we should be merry." "Yes, today the violin shall sing of joy; it is too beautiful here to be sad. Even though the first gray .geese of the year pass south, I shall send them no "message." "And this message is it a secret?" "A secret, monsieur? What secrets can a woman cherish in these forests?" Her reply had been spontaneous, innocent in-nocent of subterfuge ; then, in his lifted eyebrows and humorous curl of lip, she caught the reflection of the double Implication of her question, and her face flushed to the "temples. "Have you ever longed to journey south with the passing geese?" he quickly asked, gallantly covering her embarrassment. "As you play them down the skies, do you not wish to join them?" "Why, Monsieur Steele, you have stolen my dreams," she cried, radiant with surprise. "Always, as they pass, I stand here calling to them to lend me wings to follow follow Into the south. I try to lure them back with my violin but no, they pass. So I send them down the wind to a mad quick-step my bon voyage, my farewell fare-well until spring pipes them north." She had risen. And her eyes, shining shin-ing with emotion, her face, vivid with the color of her thoughts, strangely stirred the man wno listened. The lines of her straight body, from shoulders to trim feet, held his eyes. Watching her, Steele asked himself what this strange girl, tense as the strings of her violin, with her moods of aloofness and silence, followed by swift changes to whimsical gayety and lightness of spirit, was coming to mean to him. As her eyes again met his he wondered what memories he should carry down to Nepigon in. October. Octo-ber. "And the message you send with the geese?" he aslcsd. "There Is homesickness home-sickness in it for your France your Touraine?" "Ah." she sighed, "is it not natural, monsieur? I do long for the roses and the poppy fields the warm sun on the white roads and the laughter of the people. There Is no laughter at Wailing River now." She raised her hands in .eloquent gesture. "The winter here is so long so cold. The eternal wind In the spruce does it not speak to you, too? To me there are always tile voices voices of hunger and pain and death." "Yes, summer or winter," he said, "the voices are everywhere, in the white-waters, the spruce, the hills. And often, in the breeze, the forest becomes one great orchestra." "You have heard it, too?" she cried, "the sweep of the violins, the moaning of the cellos?" "I always hear them in the summer, sum-mer, from a river; with the drumbeat drum-beat of rapids as accompaniment." "A.h, there is much of the poet in you, monsieur" And for an instant "here was a light in the girl's eyes which set wild thoughts stirring In his brain. "lint our winter is beautiful; beauti-ful; also, in moods," she went on. "The quiet days with the sun oil the snow I hive then to walk in the forest. And the winding snowshoe rrails; do they not call you to follow?" fol-low?" Evidently Steele has fallen in love with the beautiful French girl. And her feelings? CTO BE CONTINUED.) 4 "MY VALLEY!" SYNOPSIS. With David, half-breed half-breed euide. Brent Steele, of the American Museum of Natural History, is traveling In northern Canada. By a stream he hears Denise, daughter of Col. Hilaire St. Onge, factor at Wailing Kiver, play the violin superbly. He introduces in-troduces himself and accepts an invitation to make the 'post his home during his stay. He finds the factor worried and mystified. The "log chateau" is a real home. From St. Onge he learns of the mysterious creature of evil, the "Windigo," and the disappearance of a canoe and its crew, with the seasons take of furs. Then at night the "Windigo" gives a weird performance. Even Steele, is mystified. David, Steele's Indian, In-dian, and Michel, St. Onge's headman, head-man, leave for the scene of the canoe's disappearance in an attempt at-tempt to solve the mystery. CHAPTER III 6 As the days passed at Wailing River, and the dread voice failed to break upon the crisp September nights with a recurrence of its horror, the people timidly took up the old order ' of their days. The rabbit snares in j the forest were again visited and reset re-set by the women, who traveled in pairs for mutual encouragement, and one day Tete-Boule was prevailed upon by the factor to go out with another Indian after moose, for the fort needed fresh meat. As he left, the Ojibway gravely shook the hands j of the fearful women and children gathered on the shore, bidding them look upon him for the last time, for by night lie and his comrade would be mangled flesh in the maw of the Windigo. "Did you hear that fool?" Steele asked St. Onge, standing near him on the beach. "This thing has ruined him as a hunter," replied the factor, "he will never recover from It." "I think I'll run upstream to the riffles this morning and catch some dore for supper," said the younger man as they returned to the trade-house. trade-house. Later, a second canoe quietly left the post, but when the boat reached the riffles, a mile above, the occupant did not stop to fish but continued upstream following the shore. And when the flash from the paddles of the craft above ceased, and the spot on the river which was the canoe, moved to the shore, the boat following, follow-ing, also turned in, and was lifted and hidden in the alders. Then the premonition of Tete-Boule attained a partial fulfilment, for on the shores of the Wailing started a man hunt; but the incentive in the hunter was not a craving for human flesh, but a mild curiosity. Before sunset the safe return to the post of Tete-Boule and his partner was heralded with joy,' although they had failed in their hunt. But it was well after dark before the second canoe slid silently In to the stony beach. "You had no luck this afternoon, monsieur, you caught nothing?" laughed St. Onge as Steele appeared for supper. "As a matter of fact, Colonel, 1 went hunting, but the game was too 4ame for sport." St. Onge's black brows lifted. "You are cryptic, monsieur." "Well, to confess," laughed Steele, "I was interested to see how much hunting your men would really do and I found out." "You followed Tete-Boule's canoe?" "Yes, I watched them for a few hours,1 but as they showed no sign of taking to the bush, I traveled over to those ponds Michel told me about. Tomorrow, if you have a man who will help me pack tht meat, I'll get a moose." "And Tete-Boule never left the river?" "Not while I watched him." The factor shrugged significantly. "He's 'bush shy' now and will not hunt. Rut what is there to do?" "Have you thought that he might be shamming to avoid work? Is he lazy?" "No. he always was a good packer and hunter. It's the Windigo." In Ihe -week past. Steele had seen all too little of the girl whose personality per-sonality had so vividly aroused his Interest, whose moods, defying analysis, analy-sis, only added to her charm. Con-vtneed Con-vtneed that beyond a dread of the u'.'ly alternatives which the future might present to her choice, beyond any pos sihle fear of the manifestations of Ihe supernatural which the post had witnessed, there lurked a tangible cause for anxiety, his active mind had been ceaseless In its groping for a clew to its nature. Two days following fol-lowing the night of terror, lie had j spent searching the big ridge for sign of wolverine, lynx or wolf, had produced pro-duced nothing in explanation of the mysterious cries, hut while his eyes swept the dry floor of the forest to right and left, his thoughts had dealt "And This Message Is It a Secret?" betrayed misgivings she dared not voice, Denise St. Onge appeared at the trade-house. "You will not go without your rifle, monsieur?" queried St. Onge as Steele joined them. "Is the Windigo dangerous in broad daylight?" facetiously asked Steele. The bronze face of the factor reddened. red-dened. "The Windigo may strike in the day or night, monsieur. Who knows? It is well you go armed." And lie handed the Manniicher to the American, Ameri-can, who took it, mystified, irritated, that the man to whom he bad offered his services should withhold bis confidence. con-fidence. Led by the girl, hardly recognizable in her sudden metamorphosis from a creature of reticence and aloofness, to one quick with life, vibrant to the magic of the sunlit September hills, they took the trail to an isolated ridge about a mile back from the river. The Watcli tower was aptly named, for unlike most of the high land of the country, the hill was capped by a hare brow of rock commanding a little valley - studded with a chain of miniature lakes. Beyond, a sweep of rolling forest faded into the haze of the soul hern horizon. "Is It not beautiful my valley, monsieur?'' she asked with a wide sweep of her arm. "Beautiful!" he repeated. "And you come here often?" "Yes fh at is, we used to come here; but lately" She caught herself her-self up sharply, then continued. "This valley, monsieur. -I call my Vale of Tempe. It is em-hunting to watch the spring slowly sweep it with its mimic paint in. here and there, the soft green of the young birch leaves, the silver of poplar, an, halm of ilead : then rim that brook with the red of the willow buds. Ami the first Mowers of the fonsi l.epatica. purple and pink and white; violets and wood anemone and trilliuin " She paused, the dark eyes grew wistful t he voice throaty, as she continued: con-tinued: "(im-e there was no terror in hose gn-en forests; once we searched unafraid. Charlotte and I. for the flow or treasures they possessed. Tome and find us?' they culled, ami daily we si.c-h; them : 1 n .1 brought them ip'tiie to transplant in our garden, but now " "Bui now?' he repented, wondering .f l.e were a; hist, to k::,e.v to be :.n:!.- a si n rer In h.-r tei-r t. i'.-.i -in , in'e.l liini. ( :.i,;-:i.jte and with the reiterated query; "Whom did she fear at the rapids? What was she about to tell me when St. Once interrupted? She had said. 'Hut you do not know the dancer! and. there are so many ' Many what? Clearly there was something more than th" Wlmii-.'o in this warning. Hut what could it lie?" So Steele returned from Irs pr.:it ess search of the ridTe to wait for U return of David and M:cl ei.v,hen |