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The Wingham Advance-Times, 1940-01-18, Page 6PAGE SIX WINGHAM ADVANCE-TIMES Thursday, January 18,194®’ ILLS OF bESTINY 7JSNC5 L0UI5E. PROVOST , * CHAPTER I The flip of a coin decided it. If Lee Hollister, listening to temple bells, on the edge of a tropical city half a world way, had not felt that tug of home sickness for wind swept plains and the tang of sage, spun a small silver pro duct of the United States mint and started for home four months before he was expected, a number of quite exciting things might never have hap pened. Even then, if he had continued straight on to Saunders by the noon local, as any reasoning adult might be expected to do, instead of bolting out of the train three stations down the line, several other matters would at least have taken a notably different course. Word of his arrival, for instance, would surely haye trickled on ahead of him. Gideon Morse, that neat, sleek little man, undoubtedly would have dispatched a telegram east much soon er than he actually did, and from that moment would have kept an unobtru sive eye on the movements of this en ergetic young man to whom the Circle V ranch had been home for twenty years and Matt Blair something more than a father. . But the coin had spun, not once in that far-off city But again on the . clanking local two hours away from Saunders, and Lee not only got off three stations ahead of his destination, but immediately proceeded to make and quite different arrangements for moving on. • The town’s one hotel received him, and he changed from neat blue serge to disreputable old trousers and a flan nel shirt and went out again, and down the sunbaked street. A horse was lo cated and bargained for, with an eye for points. A second-hand saddle fol lowed; minor purchases were made here and there. When the job .was finished the stranger in town clothes had disap peared, and in his place was a brown young man in a big Stetson who might have been any wandering cowboy from the back ranges, or a young rancher in town for the day. Long before the train that he had left was whistling for Saunders Sta tion, Lee Hollister was on his way. He rode easily, with the grace of long custom, picking up familiar land marks and thinking that the old sandy waste looked good after nearly two years of wandering, even to the clumps of last year’s tumble-weed, wind-bunched in the bottom of a draw. By late afternoon he had left the high desert for the twilight of a nar row canyon whose ragged walls loom ed six hundred feet above the canyon floor. He camped there for the night. In the morning he started on again, up a thread of trail that hugged the -canyon wall, out again on an open flat, and over a ridge where the cedar and pinion gave way to slim pine. The lar side of the ridge slanted d,own to a tiny mountain meadow- There was water there, and he dis-, mounted, eased the cinches to rest his horse and set about to appease a healthy hunger. Moving easily and lightly, he merged into his surround ings as naturally as the tall straight pine back of him or the brown needle carpet beneath. He was tall and straight himself, a full six feet of smoothly coordinated muscle, .with a keenly modeled profile, black1 eyes that saw much and betrayed little, and a lean young face that sun and wind had finished in a warm brown, He was not in the least concerned that there were people, plenty of peo ple, who would think him a lunatic to waste two days and part of a railroad ticket in order to take the longest and roughest way home. But ihe had chosen to arrive from the opposite direction, and on horse back. It was the way by which he had first come, a silent, black-headed lit tle savage with weary body and sus picious eyes, twenty years before. Twenty years almost to the day. Matt Blair had brought him. Now he was coming back the same way, over the same trails. down. There was no place like it. It was good to be back again, to slip in this way and surprise Matt, Good old Matt. Virginia would be home, too, once more a rancher’s girl, after the years of travel and fashionable schools that an indulgent father had given her. The warmth vanished in a puzzled frown. Over on the left his ranging eye had cahght sight of a wide ugly slash on the timbered slope. That was odd, Timber was too valuable to be wasted. iMatt never cut that way. That strip was wastefully cut, with high stumps like the snapped-off masts of a wrecked ship, Lee’s sharp ened glance flicked toward the valley again. Down there he had seen a small bunch of cattle, perhaps fifty or sixty. That also was, unusual. The Circle V cattle always ranged the hills at this time of the year. Lee wheeled his horse abruptly, re traced his way for a short distance, and started zigzagging downward. The slope dropped abruptly, with sharp turns and jutting angles, and talus that slid beneath his horse’s feet, Over to the right a black hole yawn ed. That was the mouth of (the old Bonanza mine, long since abandoned, where one lucky gold pocket had giv- i Jest as touchy as ever, ain’t ye, Lee? - A ft Late afternoon found him going steadily downward, not in a direct grade, but in a rolling succession of low1 ridges. He topped the crest of the last one and drew in. • There it lay, a wide valley floor deep in grass, where grazing never failed in the dryest seasons. Moun tains rimmed it around, taking the brunt of winter storms on their old shoulders. Off to the west and south west they were little more than rag ged hills, but on the east and north east timbered heights looked down, cut with deep canyons and thrusting out gaunt promontories of rock. At the southwestern end the ranch build ings lay, low and pleasantly stragg ling. Lee’s eyes warmed as he looked en Matt Blair and his partner their first.start and had brought hordes of other men to stake claims. That hillside had echoed once to the sound of voices, the blows t of picks and the sullen boom of blasting, as men burrowed feverishly for the gold that was never found again. Matt owned it all now, not so much for its value—it wouldn’t have brought twenty cents an acre—but because it was a relic of the old days. The old Bonanza was behind Lee, the last steep turn of the trail brought him into a small gorge. Lee sudden ly gave a scarcely audible grunt. A man was coming toward him, rid ing close to the fringe of cedar, as if keeping out of view, He was a big, loosely built man, with a long, wolf- BRITISH FLIERS GO DEEP INTO GERMANY< Deep into Germany, over territory reconnoitering squadrons. But war* over Austria and Bohemia. Ships twswr before scouted, British tolanes flew Jan. 18, This map shows direct aMiwc routes to places reached by the its* ed for this Work are similar to thoseplahes, to avoid neutral tertitoty, must fly far further. Two of the R. A. F. used for trans-oceanic flights because ships covered 1,700miles as they stsed lof the great distances to be covered, ish face -and bulky shoulders. His stare of recognition carried, a swift surprise and a fare of something else, quickly hidden. Then he rode forward with a grin which showed discolored teeth. “Hello, Lee, You back?” “Looks like it. Hello, Slant//’ The reply was civil, and no more. Lee Hollister did not like Slanty Gano and Slanty knew f it, He was shifty and evasive, as oblique in his methods as in his name. A good worker when he wanted to be, he was too lazy and quarrelsome to hold any job long, and usually shifted for himself in a cabin back in the hills. ■ Lee’s eyes dwelt on him with an iin* personal regard, “Riding for the Circle V?” , “Not tor that outfit.” The grin be came a sneer. “I'm hirin’ other folks to work for me. Want a job?” “No,” The Income- answer ignored Slanty’s evident desire to be offensive and betrayed not the slightest inter est in Slanty’s rise in life. Slanty’s eyes took on malevolence. “I’m lookin’ for strays," he explain ed with sly insolence. “Been missin’ ’em purty regular, lately.” “Better not look in the wrong place, Slanty, Other people's brands don’t stay on the Circle V.” Black eyes and greenish ones met and measured each other. The green ish ones wavered. “Jest as touchy as ever, ain’t ye, Lee? Well, I’ll take yore word for it, this time, So long; I’ve got work to 'do." He wheeled with a savage rake of spurs and was off. Lee looked after him speculatively. Slanty must have been up to some thing, or he would not have given ground so easily. Too easily. It would not hurt to keep arj eye on Slanty, but for the present Lee had more urgent business on hand. He turned and rode toward the narrow cleft which led in to that fertile paradise that wandering Navajos, long ago', had named the Val ley of the Sun. Slanty Gano, from a safe distance, turned in the saddle and saw him dis appear. ' “Think yo're the big boss around here,* don’t ye?" he muttered sourly. “Matt Blair’s little pet!" Lee rode on slowly. Several things were puzzling him, the wasteful tim ber slash, the little evidences Of ‘mis management, the presence of Slanty Gano on Circle V land, Slinking* through that fringe of cedar as if he did not wish to be seen. Three years ago Matt had run Slanty off the Circle V for abusing a horse, and Slanty had given it a wide berth ever since. The ranch house came into clearer view, sprawling comfortably on its commanding knoll. Just ahead was the big moment, for which Lee had planned, but somehow he hesitated. Lee grinned and swung his horse to the right. Five minutes later the ranch buildings were completely blocked from view and the buckskin was threading his way down the slope of a little ravine where a slim finger of the creek ran. About a third of the way -down a cabin stood, its logs weathered grey by many seasons. In a bare strip be yond it a little old man was just straightening from a stooping position. “Whee-ce! Joey! Yip! Yip!” “Lee Hollister! Hi-yi-yi! Lee!” The whoop from the head of the ra vine Was answered by a thin, shrill note; the old man scrambled and slid and ran. They met almost in front of the grey cabin. “Ye doggone young scallawag!” Joey’s voice squeaked treacherously. “Time ye was back, dang yore ornery hide. Where ye been all this time? Couldn’t even write a line, like any decent folk's would, could ye?” A flashing grin came. “I never ^vas much for writing, Joey; you know that. Just got here. I haven’t even seen Matt yet.” Joey flinched as though someone had dealt him a solid blow. “I forgot.” He swallowed visibly. “Ye ain’t heard—about things here.” “Heard what? What’s the matter, Joey?” Joey gulped again. His voice Was a dry husk of sound, “Matt—-Matt’s gone/’ “Gone! Look here, Joey, you don’t mean that Matt is—” He couldn’t quite finish it. joey nodded heavily. “Yes. He’s dead, He shot hisself. That’s the wust part of It, Lee. They found him In his office, all slumped down in Ms chair, with his gun on the floor beside him/’ Lee straightened slowly. The im pact of the blow had rocked him, Matt Blair, that big, vital, huge*, hearted man, his earliest and best friend, dead, and by his own hand! “I don’t get it,” he said slowly. “I don’t get It at all. Matt wasn’t kind.” joey nodded. Speech, for the ment, was beyond him. Lee dropped the reins over buckskin’s head and left him to stand there and crop at young grass. They turned and went up the slope to joey’s ... , cabin- Neither spoke. Inside the cabin were six or eight photographs ranged on a shelf which served as a mantel. Two of t.hem were snapshots of Lee, both of them on horseback; the others were all of 'one girl, a lovely,' delicately modeled crea ture, Viginja Blair, Matt’s precious jewel, foi whom nothing was too good nor any sacrifice too great, “Was she home?” Lee asked ab ruptly, Joey shook his head. “She was on her way. what met her.” Joey’s voice betrayed Never had Lee seen the broken, “Tell me How it happened.” (Continued Next Week) And that’s him again, old man so “So Hilda’s broken it off with Tom my. I wonder if she still keeps his loye letters." “Well, as a matter of fact, they’re keeping her now." “I can easily tell you’re a married man. No holes in your socks now!” “No. One of the first things my wife taught me was how to darn.” "Your wife says she onjy asks for pin money?” ‘‘Yes, but the first pin she wanted had. twelve diamonds in it.” OLD TIMERS that mo* thfe THE GENERAL WALKS LIKE—PANTHER. By P. S. Fisher When young I read a considerable number of Indian stories. They helped me through quite a few hard winters. When the on-coming school hour forc ed me to reluctantly leave the straw tick, by removing several layers of blankets and quilts, I encouraged my self as the goose-flesh converted me into a human file, by Saying half- aloud, “Brave it like an Indian.” This procedure helped me to walk the five steps that led to my flee.ce-lined two- piece. An unconquerable yearning for ithe artistic battled with a native sensi tiveness to frigid .temperatures, as I beheld,the incomparably beautiful de signs of Nature upon the thickly frost ed window panes. Double windows in those days were as rare as double yoked eggs .and blood oranges. Why. local photographers (such as Moses Zurbrigg, or Armstrong in the Tam- blyn Block, did not take pictures of those perfect pencillings on the pane, I do not know; except perhaps in the case.of Moses, who passed the Town Hall One February morningewith part of his nose as white as a leper. I never thought there, was any special advan tage in possessing a long nose and that morning I was sure of it. The thermometers of today don’t seem able to stand the cold as they did in my boyhood days. I ’haven’t seen icicles on men’s whiskers for ov er 30 years. It may be .that drinking through straws overcomes icicle form ing tendencies, I do not know. ing him decorate wounded Finns, a. newspaperman said he walked like a. panther and thait "the bear that walk1- Kurt Wallcnius is one of the gener als who designed the Finnish success es on the northern front. After watch- ed like a man" had felt his claws. ■" - li ■ ////I 3. - - W2 sWhen-1 recall those school days in winter, I look' back upon- them as in cidents from which I am glad to’ be delivered. I like learning but I much disliked increasing *my knowledge while buffering from chilblains. That is why drawing-lesson appealed to me so strongly. It was scheduled for el even-thirty and bv 'that time my feet were closing that stinging sehsation one felt when he got a licking. Hanging on sleighs was popular winter fun in those days, even if it were raining. The empty saw-log bobs were the hardest to catch, perhaps be cause the team were anxious to .get home to their oats and hay. The box bob-sleigh was always the most at tractive to grab hold of, ‘ especially if it were full of grain or chop in bags. Those’ bags made great seats, Occas ionally an irate farmer would wield his whip in our direction but for the most part we boys were given the freedom of. protruding runners with genial good-will. The Ontario farmer is - rarely a cantankerous character. Farm life is hard on the muscles but it is easy on the nerves." When a far mer has a break-down it is more apt to be his mdwer than himself. -If his wife breaks down she' needs a few days in the city. The great preponderance of Christ mas and New Year’s cards, that are not strictly what is called religious,, depict the scene of which the farm er is daily and nightly familiar — the wide expanse of quiet snow —■ the zig zag fence — the uplifted trees With slender fingers, raised aloft, as if in prayer *— the meandering stream,, nightly narrowing, in its fight with the frost —»the ungroomed cattle clus tered around the straw stack near the barn — the house with frosted win dows, and the chimney-smoke be speaking warmth below — the pump which snow and ice has lowered, and the mail box which likewise has been dwarfed — these scenes rest the eye and arrest the attention of the city dweller. It will ever be so. It is the' ebb and flow of fluctuating feelin'gs. It is deep* calling uiito deep. Most of us are like Lot: we tend in youth toward some Sodom and* long in later life for a Zoar. Why do we do these Put another log on the fire, have another cup of coffee. I must talk for hours yet. things? Let us feel we Wellington Mutual Fire Insurance Co. * Established 1840, Risks taken on all classes of insur ance at reasonable rates.. Head Office, Guelph, Ont. COSENS & BOOTH, Agents, Wingham. Dr. W. A. McKibbon, B.A. PHYSICIAN AND SURGEON Located at the Office of the Late Dr. H. W. Colborne. Office Phone 54. HARRY FRYFOGLE Licensed Embalmer and Funeral Director Furniture and * Funeral Service Ambulance Service. Phones: Day 109W. Night 109J. DR. R. L. STEWART ‘ PHYSICIAN Telephone 29. J. W’ BUSHFIELD Barrister, Solicitor, Notary, Etc. Money To Loan. Office — Meyer ,Block, Wingham, / THOMAS FELLS AUCTIONEER REAL ESTATE SOLD A Thorough Knowledge of Farm Stock. Phone 231, Wingham. Dr. Robt. C. REDMOND . M.R.C.S. (England) L.R.C.P. (London) PHYSICIAN AND SURGEON J. H. CRAWFORD Barrister, Solicitor, Notary, Etc. Bands, Investments & Mortgages Wingham Ontario Consistent Advertising in The Advance-Times Getfc Results DR. W. M. CONNELL PHYSICIAN AMD SURGEON " Phone 19. R. S. HETHERINGTON BARRISTER and SOLICITOR Office — Morton Block. Telephone No. 66. J. ALVIN FOX Jkic.ensed Drugless Practitioner CHIROPRACTIC - DRUGLESS THERAPY - RADIONIC EQUIPMENT Hours by Appointment. Phone 191. •' Wingham .....■ k v W. A, CRAWFORD, M.D. Physician and Surgeon Located at the office of the late Dr. J. P. Kennedy. Phone jtjo Wlngfcam Frederick A, Parker OSTEOPATH Officesi Centre St., Wiagham,and Main St., Listowel. Listowel Days: Tuesdays and Fri days. Osteopathic and Electric Treat ments. Foot Technique, , Phone n% ....... ....Wingham A. R. &F. E. DUVAL CHIROPRACTORS CHmOPMCTIC and ELECTRO THERAPY Norfhr Street « ' Winghatn Telephone Soo,