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Show "SKY AN' GRASS" SYNOPSIS Lured by his four-year-old playmate, Jean I.ane, Frank Hall, aed lx, ventures on the forbidden wall of a dam, in a small Ontario town. He falls Into the water and Is navd from IiohhI ble death by cIlriKtnK to Jean's ou tntre tchf;d amid. Next duy Joan Informs him that be-cau.Hfl be-cau.Hfl of their adventure of the day before be la In duty bound to marry her. He ayrea when they i are "grownups." With Jean's ji brother John, also ng'-d six, P Frank begins school. Two years latsr they are Joined by Jean and ' Frank's winter Marjorie. A little later Jean confUb's to Frank, In ver.ne, her hop'! of aoine day becoming be-coming "Mrs. Hall." He accepts the "proponal." Frank Is fourteen four-teen when bin mother dlea. The boys are eighteen when John's father Is killed In an accident. t CHAPTER II Continued 2 I need not follow the events of the next year or so further tlinri to say ' Unit my father developed u habit of putting on Ills (rood clothes In the evening nml brushing his shoes, and walking over" to see whether Mrs. Lane might not need some help with the1 affairs of the farm. Jnek found me one evening In Scp- temher cutting firewood In the un cleared portion of our farm up by the 1 Mg pine. The sun was almost set- , ting; It hung like a blood-red globe 1 through an avenue of ninple trees, and Its slanting light struck the nutumn foliage with a wizardry of color and beauty. Jack sat down on a log and when I paused In my work i he said, "You're too Industrious, 1 Frank; If you are not careful you'll die rich. Come over here; I want to talk to you." I took a seat at his side and for a minute or two he punched the earth i with a stick, as though uncertain how to open his subject. "I guess you're as much awake as ! I am, Frank," he said at length, "so you know what's on the books." ! "You mean about my father?" I was going to add, "and your mother," but I stopped; someway It seemed out of place. Hut .Tack tilled It in, "And my mother." Then we both sat silent for awhile. "Has lie said anything about it to you?" I ventured, "lie hasn't mentioned men-tioned it to me." "No," said Jack. Then, with one of bis unexpected touches of humor, "I'm not sure that be knows about it yet. But mother does." "Well, it's all right, isn't it?" I said, after we had had our laugh. "Your mother has been pretty much a mother moth-er to Marjorie and me since our own left us. She's O. K. I'm not complaining." complain-ing." "Neither am I," Jack agreed, "so far ns they are concerned. Rut Just how about us? We've got to get out." "Why?" Jack turned bis full blue eyes on me witli a sort of pity. "Do you think Marjorie Is going to play second fiddle fid-dle to a new mother? You don't know your sister, Frank." In a moment I knew he was right. He had not asked me if I thought that Jack would play second fiddle to a new father, but that, too, may have been in his mind. "Well, what are we to do about it?" "Go West !" he said, emphatically. "Go West I I am beginning to think It's the only thing for a young fellow fel-low to do, anyway. What is there here for us? Drudge away In the mill, seven to six, seven to six, seven to six, seven to six, week in, month in. year in ; then, some day, caught on a shaft, and they stop the mill just long enough to untangle your remains. And that Is life! Iiy G d. Frank, it's not li'.'e as I see it as I'm going to see it '." I turned to him in surprise;' It was the first time I had heart him use such an expression. lis teeth were set: his thin lips were pressed together; to-gether; his eyes were big and luminous lumi-nous in tiie twilight; bis pose was a picture of resolution, even of defiance. All unknown to me, Jack I.ane had become a man, and his exclamation bad had more of prayer than of profanity pro-fanity in it. Presently lie continued: "We can go out to that new country, west of Manitoba, and take up a homestead each. In a few years we will have land enough to make a dozen of these Ontario farms. Others are doing it so can we. And it won't be so hard for us. The worst thing, usually, is the loneliness; holding It down in a sba-k. three years or more, all by or-c's self. lint we can get claims beside each other, and. although we'll have to have separate shacks, the girls will keep house for u, so It on't be so bad." lie had touched on something which bad already come Into my mind. "Will Jie girls go?" I questioned. "Frank." he said, and again he seemed to speak from some superior wisdom of his own. "those girls will go with us anywhere we ask them anywhere !" ' When I laid the proposal before j Marjorie, she listened w'm a com-ulacency com-ulacency whicn arrested that t')- . idea was not en';r-!y new to her. "I will go and keep house for you." I Hie ntd, frankly, "if Jack and Jean I go too ' j Tt was Sunday afternoon nefore I kad nn oto'tt'iulty to speolr to Jean. By ROBERT STEAD Author of "The Cow Puncher," "The Homesteaders" WNTJ Serrlc Copyright bj Robert BteJ She was seventeen now, and my wondering won-dering eyes had of late beheld her trim glrliHliness giving way to the first entrancing en-trancing curves of womanhood Her light step, her grace of motion, her clear, pink skin, her sensitive lips half parted over rows of well-formed teeth, her eyes large and dreamful, all whispered whis-pered In some vague way in the ears of my boyhood that Jean was not as other girls; whispered of Jean the artist Jean the Idealist 1 Jean had not gone Into the mill with the other girls of her age; she had continued longer at school, and then had taken up the study of music. Among the limbo of personalities which drifts Into the bywaters of little towns, she had found, too, an artist; a man apparently of talent, who had sought the seclusion seclu-sion of our little milling center in Ontario On-tario for reasons which were his own. He had Immediately recognized the artistic strain In the girl and had bent his own genius to call It forth with no thought of reward other than the Joy of seeing It grow. "Y'ou are wonderful, Miss Lane," he had said, after the first few lessons. "Y'ou have perspective and proportion, which are the greatest things in life." "I think I am a very stupid pupil," Jean had murmured In answer. "Y'ou are very patient with me and all for nothing." "For nothing I You leave me your debtor! You pay me a thousand times! Y'ou have given back to me a purpose In life an excuse for being alive! Ah, Miss Lane, you do not know yet how empty a life can be. But you are an arlist and some duy you will dip your brush in pain perhaps in sorrow sor-row and regret and after that you will paint. It Is the law." Jean told me these things that Sunday Sun-day afternoon, and asked me If I knew what he meant. I did not; but I knew the artist had given Jean an Instant's glimpse into life, and It was none the easier for me to suggest the loneliness of a homestead "somewhere west of Manitoba." "Do you think you could dip your brush In in the Saskatchewan?" I ventured. "I know," she said, simply. "Jack has told me.' I will go, if you and Marjorie go." It seemed to me that the reference to Marjorie came almost as a second thought ; at any rate, I flattered myself with that idea. We had no difficulty In persuading my father and Mrs. Lane to fall In with our Ideas ; In fact, they accepted our plan with some enthusiasm. Father Fa-ther even insisted upon selling one of the farms and giving the proceeds to establish ourselves in the West. It was little enough, as we were to learn In due course, but Jack and I had also saved something of our earnings, and during this particular fall and winter we were unusually penurious. ,rNall down every dollar," said Jack, and we all were busy with our nailing. We prepared to start for the West about the end of April, and, as it came about, my father and Mrs. Lane ar- ivW.k H i SVfYn i "I Will Go and Keep House for You," She Said Frankly, "if Jack and Jean Go, Too." ranged a domestic event on the very day of our departure. The affair was quiet and unpretentious; ceremony in the church at eleven, and dinner at Mrs. Lane's Mrs. Hall's, I should say where Marjorie and Jean served, and we all tried to live in a Joyous glow which was strangely shot through with streaks of unhappiuess. That night at six we left for the West. After two days and two nights we passed through Winnipeg. It was in the gray of dawn, and we did not get off, but through the window we caught a glimpse of lines of lights down a wide and winding street. Daylight saw us on the prairies; not the "baldlieaded," to be sure, but the well settled country of the Portage plains, where industry was already fructifying in trim houses and barns. , and orderly, well-kept farms. And yet here and tbre was now the unbroken sweep of V..s prairies, and our eyes danced and something caught our breuih as we tried to imagine what j they meant. We knew what it was for men to spend their lives in clearing ten, twenty, or forty acres, but here lay a kingdom fresh from the hand of God and ready for the plow. And a piece of that kingdom In the still farther far-ther West 320 acres of that kingdom was to be ours 1 "And as much more as I can buy from year to year," said Jack, as though picking up the thread of our thoughts, his face alive with enthusiasm. enthu-siasm. "Boy !" he said, banging me on the knee, "there's no limit; there's no limit!" I clasped his hand In mine with a pressure that told more than words. All that day we continued through the prairies, with here and there a belt of scrubland to cut across the vision. All that day we rambled more and more In the field of fancy happy Imaginings of the things we would do with those farms of ours which lay out there, somewhere to the westward, waiting only to be claimed. And as evening came on we watched our first prairie sunset. There were no quick dusk and darkness, as In the East ; the sun hung long In the western sky, and as it descended swung steadily to the northward. As it fell feather-like ruffles ruf-fles of cloud almost overhead burBt to color In the richest mauves and crimsons, crim-sons, and long ribbons In the west floating like golden islands In a sea of amber, caught the glow and silently unfolded a glory of pink and yellow and orange and crimson and burnished brass. I turned to look at Jean. She sat by the window where the yellow light blocked out her fine profile against the drab background of the car, and mingled min-gled In the richer yellow of her hair. And her blue eyes were all a-glisten, as the long, fine lashes drooped and rose and drooped and rose. And In the corner of her eye I saw a little pearl gather and grow until, unrestrained, unre-strained, It stole across her cheek. "Reglnal" shouted Jack; "Regina!" springing to bis feet and beginning to gather up our effects, for we had agreed that this should be the base of our search for land. We were ready to disembark by the time the train had come to a stop, and our first glimpse of the prairie city was that of buildings build-ings silhouetted against a saffron sky, and wide streets and open, spaces and the foundation work of the metropolis that was to be. . CHAPTER III Jack and I were early about In the morning, Intent upon making our prospecting pros-pecting arrangements. We asked a casual question of an early morning lounger at a livery stable some of these fellows seemed to get up at daylight day-light for the express purpose of lounging loung-ing and he flung his voice over his shoulder Into the recesses of the barn. "Jake 1" he called ; "two guys here to see yuh." Jake was evidently feeding his horses, for we heard the rustle of hay and caught a whiff of Its fragrance, but presently he came stumping down the main thoroughfare between the stalls. He was a short man with an over-developed waistline quite the opposite of the lean and lanky Westerner our Imaginations had been picturing. "Well," he said, bringing his weight to a poise on his pudgy feet, and scrutinizing scru-tinizing us closely through shrewd, half-closed eyes. "You fellows lookln' fer land?" "That's what," said Jack, who was already beginning to pick up some of the direct vernacular of ' the West. "We want a man who knows the country coun-try to show us about." "I'm your gazabo," said Jake. "I know every badger hole from Estevan to Prince Albert. I know every patch of stinkweed from Areola to Swift Current. Cur-rent. I've druv this country till there ain't a coyote between Montana an' the Saskatchewan river but knows the rattle o' my bone-shaker. Y'ou boys hit luck with your first throw runuin' Into me like this." Then, with a sharp squint through his calf-closed eyes, and dropping his voice to a confidential con-fidential note, "How much money you got?" "Enough," said Jack, "but none to waste. What are your rates?" Jake seemed to be turning a problem prob-lem heavily In his mind. "I like you fellows," he said at length, "and I make you a special price. Usual I get seven dollars a day an' found fer drlvln', an' fifty dollars for locatin.' That's fer each gent. Now I calls you two boys one gent an' makes you the same price seven bones an' a grubstake grub-stake whether we bit oil or not, an fifty plonks extra If we da An' we will. No question about that. I know two claims that's Jus' sittin' up an' yelpin' fer you lads to come along." We withdrew and talked the matter over for a few minutes. In spite of Jake's unprepossessing appearance and boastful language there was something appealing about him. We returned presently with our minds made up. "We'll take your offer, Mr. " Jack commenced. "Jake," he Interrupted. ".No mister." "All right, Jake, we'll take your offer. When do we start, what do we take, and where do we go?" Jake looked Interrogatively at the morning sun. Then, "Had breakfast?" b; demanded. "No." "Well, fill up. You must be feelln' pretty well bored out after your trip. I'll start fet the outfit together. I got a team of buckskins that's tougher than Little Eva in an Uncle Tom's Cabin show, an' a democrat bone- snaner mat scuas across uie like the shadow of a cloud." (He had his poetic turns, had Jake). "I got a tent, but you'll need your own blankets. After breakfast we'll go over to a store an' buy a lay-out o' grub." "How long will we be away?" "Well, nat'rally we have to flgger on driving out a good spell. Ain't no free land nowhere close to a city, a C-L-T-Y" he spelled it out, with a whimsical mixture of pride and ridicule ridi-cule "like this. Now I've a spot in my mind I thlnk'll suit you boys right down the calf of the leg. It'll take us I Willi "All Right, Jake, We'll Take Your Offer. When Do We Start and Where Do We Go?" about three days to go, an' a day to look It over, an' three days to come back, which knocks the hell out o' a week, don't It? An' it might be longer." "You see, we have our sisters here. We have to give them some Idea " "Sisters !" Jake exclaimed, evidently in some panic "They ain't goln' along?" "No. They'll stay here until we get settled." "That's all right, then," said Jake, visibly relieved. "Well, you tell 'em a week or ten days." We related the morning's transactions transac-tions to the girls, who accepted the situation sit-uation with resignation, as it had been agreed that they would stay In Eegina while we did our prospecting. They would at once set about to And cheaper lodgings, or a couple of rooms where they could keep house; they Insisted that they were quite able to shift for themselves. They would leave word of. their new location at the hotel. The forenoon was well gone by the time we had finished our arrangements and bought our "grub," which consisted mainly of canned goods and other preparations that would not spoil in the heat. The democrat was a two-seated two-seated affair, and the tent and sup-piles sup-piles were bundled on behind, or laid Jn the bottom. We noted that Jake added a rifle to the equipment. Then we started off, Jack In the front seat with the driver, and I alone behind. During the day we discovered that our guide was something of a philosopher. philos-opher. He had many shrewd remarks to make about Immigrants, and home-, steaders, and the business of settling up a country. It appeared that he had no very regular scale for his services. This came out in his account of the location of a young Englishman whom' he described as Mr. Spoof. "He had a carload of baggage," said Jake, with Western extravagance of language, "and when I suggested that he start up a second-hand clothing store he said, 'Ah, I'm afraid you're spoofm' me.' So I named him Mr Spoof, an' he gets mail now addressed that way." Jake turned in to a farm place In mid-afternoon for water. Ve could see the farmer seeding in his field he made no stop on our account, and if he had a wife she remained indoors We pumped as much water as the horses would drink, and filled our water keg and then sat for a while In the shade of one of his buildings, chewing at straps and gazing Into the blank dis ance. There was a supreme satlsf, c-lon c-lon a fine relaxation and relief in idling In such an hour. I WB. !m pressed with the off-hand way n wh Icl," we seemed to have mi-pi, 1 of the ,., f Possession i.f :,",::;; r, feeding with as imi. 1m en i- "mi as mtle concern as if n,., were now in a slightly roll 6 and suddenly he ! ' ' C"l"Ur-v' puued up on '';r:!'l1',lll knoll. From this 1 1 ' ' " lllllu w -Hid see , e "n o:'"m""e the Piries, mnes , ;;, direction ts' '" evry a ".oV'X6 2TVr 1 -nethmg'i.rst'S ,lU""1 "Tl"s Is the bald-headed" h swered. solemnly . ' he "n" fcy hi,' grassAky ,' ever'w""- there, there's "",. "T Ah' execution." j tol lowed the line of his extended arm. Far across the plains I saw a flashlni light, as of a heliograph. "The window of a settler's shanty, twenty miles from here, If It's a foot," he explained. "Look how green the grass is. The evenln' light makes It that way, somehow." It was true. The grass had taken a deeper shade of green with the light falling aslant across it. The sun hung like a yellow ball In a sky of cham. pagne, and the long shadows of our horses and wagon streached down the slope of the little hill. But most impressive im-pressive of all was the silence, a silence si-lence as of heaven and earth brooding, brooding, brooding over this scene as they had done from the dawn of time; eye, and before that, far Into the vague aeons of eternity. ... I wished that Jean might have been there. We made our camp on the hill, 11 we can be said to have made camp at all. Jake found a little slough (pronounced (pro-nounced slew) of snow water not far away, and he unharnessed his horses and hobbled them nearby. I was fussing fuss-ing with the tent when he returned. "We won't need that, son," and I thought there was a note almost of affection af-fection in his voice that made me warm to the man. "It couldn't rain tonight on a bet Clean out the wagon an' you two boys sleep on the floor of it You get the benefit o' the springs that way, an' it's dryer'n the ground." "But where will you sleep?" "Oh, I'll roll up somewhere. I'm an old-timer." Jake gathered some dry grass and buffalo chips and out of an astonishingly astonish-ingly little fire he soon had the tea boiling. Then he fried bacon and laid the strips of hot bacon on slabs of bread. And we ate bacon and bread, and then Jam and bread, and drank hot blacfc tea, while the slow twilight settled down about us. When daylight came we had breakfast break-fast and started on our journey again. The day was much the same as the one before, except that we were now well out on "the bald-headed." Once in a while, at great distances, we could see a homesteader's shack, a little isolated iso-lated sentinel box of the vanguard of settlement. Once we were intercepted by another team and democrat, much like our own, which cut across our trail. The driver asked if we could spare any water. We gave him half of what was in our keg, and he extended ex-tended his plug of chewing tobacco all round. We chatted a few minutes, and then with mutual friendly shouts and waving of our arms we were off again. We camped that night by a stream of which Jake knew, because there was little water on the prairies, even at the first of May. Next day we drove all day, and later Into the evening than usual ; it was quite dark when we stopped. "This Is the place," Jake said, "but you can't see It tonight. Have a good sleep and we'll size 'er up in the mornin'." We tried to eat breakfast without concern, but we were hurried and nervous, and eager to see how our Judgment would tally with Jake's. On the road he had tried to explain to us the system of survey, and we had a general Idea of It in our heads. Now he took a township map from his pocket and showed us in detail where we were. "This is us," he said, pointing with a thick, stubby finger, "right on the northwest quarter o' Fourteen. Im-medjut Im-medjut west of us is a road allowance, runnin' north an' south. Immedjut west of that again is section Fifteen, which Is railroad land, an' can't be took up free. But immedjut northwest, north-west, cornerln' right against this quarter, quar-ter, 'cept fer the road allowance, is the southeast quarter of Twenty-two which Is open. Now these two quar ters, northwest Fourteen aa' southeast Twenty-two, Is as good a. any land that lays out o' doors, an' better than most. There's a bit of a gully here you'll see it In a minute-runs down from the northeast an' cuts off to the southwest, an' runs right between . hose two quarters. There's springs in the gully somewhere, an' runnin' water practical the year round, an' shelter fer stock an' all that kind o' thin an' you get the benefit of It all, an' it "don't take two acres off'n your land It's a nowhereP"rafliSe 'VU "' be,lt ' asked""' 13 " t0 " rallr,ld " Jnck "Plumb down that road allowance, tUrty-two miles, straight as the crow dies, when It ain't slitln'." he threw " with little snicker "Pm'tivty"tT,0,,,,",Sl" Jack p"''od. pretty well In the wilderness, Isn't "Wilderness nothln' I This Is sni.nr. ban prop'rty. This Is clos n T 'Z some of 'em back sixty an' s v , eighty miles. Th.rty-two nUles l Js right, an' PI, tell you wllT ' a new railroad comes Its HkelvtJ aMn thirty mHKY' n t about a senslb.e distance apart' An be e you ,Q ' iKht-of-wny, an' may be cum.,' "omeslead Into t,,wn lo(a . T - acre nn' two hundre do " Th ' -t o' tho'se K s:vis :m 1, s said." slMors, yu ho.ne.teaV ' CUraB0 U I, 'TO Bio OOM7,N |