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Show "P Harold TttusL SYNOPSIS Ben Elliott from "Yonder" makes his entry Into the lumbering town of Tincup, bringing along 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. Elliott is arrested, but finds a friend in Judge Able Armitage. The Judge hires him to run the one lumber camp, the Hoot Owl, that Brandon has not been able to grab. This belongs be-longs to Dawn McManus, daughter of Brandon's old partner, who has disappeared with a murder charge hanging over his head. Brandon sends his bully, Duval, to beat up Ben, and Ben worsts him In a fist fight and throws him out of camp. Old Don Stuart dies, leaving a letter let-ter for Elliott, "to be used when the going becomes too tough." Ben refuses to open the letter at this time, believing he can win the fight by his own efforts. Fire breaks out In the mill. When the flames are extinguished Ben discovers that the fire was 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 defi-nite time limit on the offer. CHAPTER V Continued 8 ' Shortly after dinner od the following fol-lowing day, Ben Elliott set out to ""' investigate a story of a trappers' camp on Squaw lake, which lay to the northward of Hoot Owl. Things were going swimmingly on the Job. He was a bit ahead even of the stiff schedule of production he had set for himself and If the weather held reasonably good and he could frustrate these attempts to slow him up, he would turn the trick which engaged him for the present It was a good six miles to Squaw lake but he did not follow the most direct route. Swung right and left now and then, smiling when he came on a particularly fine piece of timber. tim-ber. Certainly, the Hoot Owl stuff looked better every time he went through It. Money standing on end for an orphan girl if he, Ben Elliott, should be strong enough to outlast Nicholas Brandon's ruthlessness and persistence! He wondered about Dawn McManus, known and marked as the daughter of a murderer. Tough, he told himself, for a child to grow up under a cloud like that. He started back after a fruitless Investigation, and had not gone more than half-way to camp when he came suddenly upon a fresh snow-shoe snow-shoe trail. He stopped short with a little thrill. Another prowler? The one who bad shortened his measures meas-ures yesterday? The tracks were only moments old, he knew by the way the freshly falling snow lay In them. Ben went faster, breaking Into a Jog trot where the going was good. A half hour later he saw the moving figure before him. Ben saw him turn about, looking upward, stare Into the wind which blew from the northwest north-west and swing to go with It Not completely lost, as a greenhorn might be ; not floundering In panic and traveling meaningless circles, but still far from certain In directions. direc-tions. Ben felt a tightening In his throat. This, the chances were, would be an encounter with one of the men who, most certainly acting on Brandon's orders, sought to hamper and hamstring him. A savage anticipation ran his veins with that ; to meet this prowler would be a greater satisfaction, ven, than throwing Bull Duval out of his camp had been. Elliott pushed on, moving faster than the other, cutting down the distance between them as the thickening thick-ening gloom made It Impossible for him to see clearly at any distance. The man before him stopped suddenly sud-denly and faced about Elliott hesitated, hesi-tated, wondering whether he had been seen or not If not he wanted to trail secretly ; If so He dipped Into a sharp ravine, climbed the other slope . . . and came face to face with the most lovely girl he could then or afterward after-ward remember having seen In his life. Great brown eyes looked at him. The nose was small, aristocratic; the mouth red lipped, mobile, he Imagined, but now it was set rather grimly into an expression of extreme petulance. He did not register consciously the knitted toque of soft maroon wool, nor the well-tailored jumper and knickers. Impressions leaped at him in ensemble, rather than detail de-tail : a trim, trig, competent little figure. "Oh!" he said, when she did not speak. "Oh . . . Why, hello!" lie grinned, then, but no responsive respon-sive smile changed the girl's face or even lighted her eyes. "Good afternoon," she said brusquely, almost sharply. "I saw your trail. That Is. I ... - How different, this beginning, from the mauner of address he had planned ! He felt called upon, now, to explain his presence on her trail rather than to demand a reason for her being there. "I saw your trail," he Began again, "and I thought . . . It seemed to me you might be a little lost" "A a matter of fact, I am completely com-pletely turned around," she said. "It was silly of me to come into the woods, especially on a day like this, without a .-ouipass. But I did . . . and here I am!" She was eyeing him closely, now, as though searching search-ing for some special detail of face or figure. Lost! He thought: a lost Diana! "I kept losing my bearings and had trouble getting oriented and am getting a little tired. It was so silly ! Downright stupid I If you know this country you can set me right I should be back In Tincup before long or they'll worry." Ben wondered quickly and Irrelevantly, Irrele-vantly, who They might be. Yes. he could get her out In a half hour he could have her in his camp and send her on her way to town. . . . But in a half hour . . . And with her manner so clearly hostile for.no reason at all? . . . She impressed him as a young woman most desirable de-sirable to know well and also as one whose confidence would be slow In acquiring. "Lost, eh?" he asked and laughed oddly. "Matter of fact, I came out without a compass myself." That was truth. He needed no compass for a short swing such as he had made today; his sound woodsman's Instinct would hold him safe. "Well, that complicates matters," the girl said drily. "I've got to get out of this timber and I'm not good for much more travel In this sort of going. I haven't been on webs In several years and I've gone further than I should have." "By George, that's too bad!" he said and hoped that none of his men, who would be trekking Into camp by now, would shout or sing so their voices would break down the Illusion of empty distances surrounding sur-rounding them which evidently possessed pos-sessed the girl. "Too bad! It's getting get-ting dark sure enough but it Isn't very late. If you could sit down and get your second wind, now " "But what good will that do? If we stay here until it's really dark there may be no getting out until morning. All I have with me is a cake of chocolate and the prospect of a hungry, cold night In the woods with you Isn't alluring." Ben rubbed his chin. "I'm sorry. If the Impression I make Is as bad as " "I meant nothing personal. But I don't know you. I don't fancy being lost with anyone, let alone a stranger." stran-ger." He thought she almost smiled, as if relenting a bit from her brusque-ness. brusque-ness. "Look !" he said, pointing aloft to where a 'break in the clouds near the zenith let about the last of the "Good Afternoon," She Said Brusquely, daylight through. "It's going to clear. We'll have stars directly. Let me build a little shelter and a fire here. A few minutes rest will do a lot of good and with stars we can get anywhere." ihe hesitated, seeming, to consider. con-sider. "All right, I must admit the last half hour's going has been hard." Out came his belt ax, off went the lower limbs of young hemlocks. In loss than it would take an ordinary man to lop the branches he bad a bench of trampled snow on a knoll covered with aromatic boughs and a thick windbreak of them behind It Then, attacking a huge birch stub he peeled off a quantity of lonso bark. This he lighted from a match carried in a tightly corked bottle and as the quickly burning stuff shed a comfortable glow on the bower bow-er he had built he knocked dead branches from a hemlock, fed them to the flame and then turned to a nearby dry top of a fallen maple, knocking off substantial faggots. She eyed the fire as he stood erect, drawing off his gloves and spreading his big hands to the warmth. "Strange," she said, "that you should be lost. From the way you make yourself comfortable in the woods. I'd say you'd been born In timber." "From the way you know woodcraft wood-craft when you see it, I'd say it's as strange that you should be lost !" "What I know of the woods was learned years ago. One gets rusty, I've discovered. Who are you and what are you doing here?" Her directness quite took his breath. "Well, my name's Ben Elliott, If that means anything to you. And I was looking for somebody who has no business to be here. Who are you and what brings you Into this timber?" tim-ber?" He was bound, now, to break through her aloofness. "That," she replied, however, "Is largely my own affair. But, Mr. Elliott, El-liott, If you should guess that I was simply trying to lose a certain unpleasant un-pleasant mood In the woods where I once was quite happy, you wouldn't be far from right" She spoke Incisively and unhesitatingly unhesi-tatingly but it seemed to him that behind this brusqueness was something some-thing quite different; something he could not quite fathom. He was about to remind her that she had not yet revealed her Identity when she went on : "Looking for some one who has no business here, you said. Just who are they, what are they doing?" do-ing?" "As to the first. I can't tell you. For the second, their purpose probably prob-ably would be to attempt to hold up a timber operation in which I'm rather Interested not so far from here." Her eyes were on him with a curious expression, which might possibly have been personal Interest Inter-est "To hold yon up? How?" "Are you from Tincup?" "I am." "You know people there? And what seems to be the town's most famous tradition?" "I don't understand." "Isn't It that Nicholas Brandon finishes what he starts out to do? That whatever he says goes, come what may?" "I've heard that said. People like to talk." "Right ! But I'm managing an outfit out-fit that's encouraging rough going from some source. All sorts of things are happening and I'm trying to head off certain of them." "I see." She looked away and puckered her delectable lips as though to whistle. Ben rubbed his chin again. She was not even Interested In learning more about him, but where many young men would have been piqued at that he only laughed softly. "What's ;he joke?" she asked, almost al-most defiantly. "I was just thinking that It's a funny situation when a man gets Into a scrap and It looks so big to him that he thinks the whole darned country must be watching It and him ; and then along comes a nice girl who's been In a position to hear all about it and who isn't Interested Inter-ested a dime's worth." She looked up at him slowly. "You mean that you want to talk about it?" "Perfectly natural that I should. I'm In one whale of a fight and having hav-ing the time of my life. It's the first job I've found In a coon's age that was hard enough and complicated enough to be worth working over." "That's what I've heard about you." "You've. . . . Oh, so you have heard about me?" "Of course, I live in Tincup. Few have any secrets in a town 6f Tin-cup's Tin-cup's size." Ben chuckled again. "Well, then, If you've heard that much ahout me and my job, maybe there isn't anything I could tell you that would be Interesting." "Maybe not," she said with an air of dismissal. Ben watched her closely as she slowly broke a twig to bits with her slim fingers. "Deer used to yard In the swamp back of here," she said. "When I was a little girl I used to come out and try to make friends with them. That's why I came out today . , . wondering if they'd started to yard yet" "It's too early for them to yard." "Yes, but the snow may get deep enough any day to bunch them." "Snow!" he said and shrugged. "If It gets Jeep In a hurry the deer will yard all right and, maybe, I'll be licked and a little girl done out of all she has in the world." 'All she has in the world? Meaning Mean-ing Just what?" "If you live In Tincup and know the. town you must know about the owner of this property. This Is the Hoot Ow timber." ; A queer smile twitched at the girl's Hps. "Sometimes I think I do; as often. 1 wonder what she's like . . . really ilka I happen to be Dawn McManus." Mc-Manus." lien Elliott opened his mouth as If to speak. Then closed it again and made a foolishly helpless movement move-ment with one hand. He stared at her and began to stammer. "Why I . . . Why, you . . . Why, Able said! . . ." He laughed outright, out-right, then, as his misconception became be-came clear. "Oh, If I'd given it a second thought I'd have known I Able first told me about you as a little girl. It stuck in my head; a little girl ! But that was years ago, of course. . . . Gee! . . . Why, then you're lost In your own back yard, you might say." "I was," she corrected. "But a few minutes ago I heard some one sing out; and Just now the cook called the crew to supper." "Then why didn't you "' "Because I was rather curious to "The Pool Room's a Good Place for You to Be, Limpy." discover what sort of man Is standing stand-ing between me and poverty," perhaps per-haps Ironically, this. "And, of course, I knew you weren't lost." Elliott flushed on that "I played at being lost myself so I'd have a chance to talk to you. I'm glad I did . . . unless it has offended you." "No. I'm . . . I'm only ready to go In, now." She adjusted the harness of her shoes dexterously and they set out On the way to camp Ben tried to talk to her further but her responses were brief and noncommital. Her Interest appeared to be only poorly aroused even on such a vital matter mat-ter as the operation of her own property, and so finally he gave up trying to make talk and broke trail thinking that now the job would have an added zest, that a girl like Dawn McManus was an even greater great-er Incentive than the thought of a small child, alone, with her timber at the mercy of hard schemers, and depending on him to make safe her heritage. CHAPTER VI THE new piston head for the locomotive lo-comotive arrived and Elliott was at the station when the train bearing bear-ing It pulled In. More, he was close beside the express car when it halted halt-ed and carried the part himself into his waiting sleigh. The veneer logs were ready to come out to the siding. Standard cars had been set off at Hoot Owl that day. Tomorrow, bright and early, ear-ly, they would start loading and by night his contract with Blackmore would be filled. He would receive a large check, a substantial part of It clear profit In return. His men were growing restless under the driving; whispers in camp had It that the Job was broke beyond be-yond repair and he knew that to pass a pay day would send his crew scattering, a handicap which he could never overcome In time. But with the men held on the job and the mill ready to saw In another week he would be ready to give the Hoot Owl a fresh start, a new hold on hope. After reaching camp he plunged Into his blankets for a night's rest And about the time he burrowed bur-rowed into the pillow Nicholas Brandon sat In his office talking to a pale, slender young man whose blue eyes smiled genially. Genially, Genial-ly, yes, but In that quality was a flaw, one might have observed on close scrutiny. Familiarity with Limpy Holbrook might not breed contempt but surely, In an alert man, It would stir an awareness for the need of caution soon or later. "All right Don't start until dark. And do Just as I've told you ; don't forget to give yourself plenty of time. You can't travel fast" "I get you, Mr. Brandon." "Have you . . . That Is, has he ever seen you?" "He came into the pool room and I sold him tobacco the other day. We visited a minute." "Friendly?" "Nothing but!' The open smile had the cast of a leer as Holbrook marie reply. "The pool room's a good place for you to be, Limpy. Great center for news. Well . . . You keep on reporting everything that's said there. . . . Good nizht" (TO F.r: CONTINUED.) Weather Charts 96 P. C. Correct Science Is making weather charts that are 90 per cent accurate. Conditions are foretold from 24 to 48 hours ahead. |