HomeMy WebLinkAboutThe Huron Expositor, 1929-11-22, Page 7rr
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170 r 11 Exeter, Centralia P.O., I'��
11e. 1. Orders left at The i$I9ei'en 2a-
p�poeltor ®ii;ce, Seaforth, promptly ct-
oedcd-
. � 4te-s Did &q " a
QContieneed fresh last week)
St, Pierre cross to his feat and look-
ed ab -int the ea as with a shining
light in Ibis eyes that wao both pride
and ¢saltation. !:is moved toward the
end of the room, where the piano
stood, and for a moment his big (en -
gem touched the keys; then, seeing
the lacy bit elf handkerchief that lay
'there, be 'pick.,', it sap• -.4n .� placed it
bade again. Carrigan did not urge
his question, but waited. In spite of
his effoat to fight it down he found
himself in the grip of a mysterious
and growing thrill as he watched St.
Pierre. Never had the presence of
weather man had the same effect up-
on -m, and strangely the thought
came to him that he was matched -
even overmatched. It was as if St.
Pierre had brought with him into the
cabin something more than the splen-
did strength of his body, a thing that
reached out in the interval of silence
between them, warning Carrigan that
all the law in the world would not
swerve the chief of the !: oulains from
what was already in his mind. For a
moment the thought passed from
David that fate had placed him up
against the hazard of enmity with St.
Pierre. His vision centered in the
man alone. And as he, too, rose to
his feet, an unconscious smile came to
his lips as he recalled the boastings
of Bateese.
"I ask you," said he, "if you would
really stake your life in a matter such
as that? Of course, if your words
were merely accidental, and meant
nothing-"
"If I had a dozen lives, I would
stake them, one on top of the other,
as I have said," interrupted St. Pier-
re. Suddenly'his laugh boomed out
and his voice became louder. "M'�sieu
Carrigan, I have come to offer you
just that test! Oui, I could kill you
now. I could put you at the bottom
of the river, as Bateese thinks is
right. Mon Dieu, how completely I
could make you disappear! And then
my Jeanne would '`ie safe. She would
not go behind prison bars. She would
go on living, and laughing, and sing-
ing in the big forests, where she be-
longs. And Black 'Roger Audemard,
the rascal, would be safe for a time!
But that would be like destroying a
little child. You are so helpless now.
So you are going on to the Chateau
Boulain with us, and if at the end of
the second month from to -day you
do not willingly say I have won my
wager-why-m'sieu-I will go with
you into the forest, and' you may
shoot out'of me the life which is my
end of the gamble. Is that not fair?
Gan you suggest a better way -be-
tween men like you and me?"
"I can at least sngge.st a way that
has the virtue •of saving time," re-
plied David. "First, however, I must
understand my position here. I am,
take it, a prisoner."
"A guest, with certain restrictions
placed upon you, m'sieu," corrected
St. Pierre.
The eyes of the two men met on a
dead level.
"To -morrow morning I am going to
fight Bateese," said David. "It is a
little sporting event we have fixed up
between us for the amusement of -
our men. I have heard that Bateese
is the best fighting man along the
Three Rivers. And 1-1 do not like
to have any other man claim that
distinction when I am around."
For the first time St. Pierre's plac-
idity seemed to leave him. Itis brow
became clouded, a moment's frown
grew in his face, and there was a
certain disconsolate hopelessness in
the shrug of his shoulders. 1t was
as if Carrigan's words had suddenly
rabb'ed the day of all its • sunshine for
the chief of the Boulain. His voice,
too, carried an unhappy and disap-
pointed note as he made a gesture to-
ward the window.
"M'asrieu, on that raft out there are
many of my men, and they have
scarcely rested or slept since word
was brought to them that aastrantger
was to 'fight Concombre Bateese. Ton -
erre, they have gambled without ev-
er seeing you until the clothes on
their backs, are in the hazard, and
they harve cracked their muscles in
labor to overtake you! They have
prayed away their very souls that it
would be a good fight, and that Bat-
eese would not eat you up too quick-
ly. It has been a long time since we
have seen a good fight, a long time
since the last man dared to stand up
against the half-breed. Ugh, it t�e'ars
out my 'heart to tell you that the
fight can not be!"
St. Pierre made no effort to sup-
press his emotion. He was dike a
huge, disappointed boy.'He walked
to the window, peered forth at the
raft, and as he shrugged his big
shoulders again something like a
groan came from him.
The thrill of approaching triumph
swept through David's blood. The
flame of it was in his eyes when St.
Pierre turned from the windmnv.
"And you are disappointed, St.
Pierre? You would like to see that
Rght?"
The 'blue steel in St. Pierre's eyes
flashed back. "If the price were a
year of my life, I would give it -if
Rateese did not eat you up too quick-
ly. I love to look upon a good fight,
where there is no venom of hatred
in the 'blows!"
"Then you shall see a good fight,
St. Pierre."
"Bateese would kill you, m'sieu.
Yon are not big. You are not his
match."
' 1 shalli whip him, St. Pierre
whip him until he avows nue his mas-
ar.'
"Yon clo not know the half-breed,
m'sien. Twice 1 have tried him in
friendly combat myself and have been
beaten .'•
"But 1 shall whip liim," iep'eated
Carrigan. "I will wawa yon :'ny-
thing-anything in the world --oven
life 'against life---rthat.1 ^alp him!"
The gloom had faded from the face
of St. Pierre Boulain. But in a easem-
ent it clouded again.
"My Jeanne baa made me promiae
that II will stop the fight," he acid.
"And why -why should she insist
an a matter such as this, which pro-
perly should he settled among men?'
asked David.
Again St. (Pierre laughed; with an
effort, it seamed: "She is gentle -
hearted, m'sneu. She laughed and
thought it quite a joke when Bateese
humbled me. 'What! 'My great St.
Pierre, with the blood of old France
in his veins, 'beaten by a man who
has been named after a vegetable°
she cried. I tell you she was merry
over it, m'sieu! She laughed until
the tears came into her eyes. But
with you it is different. She was
wtiste rwbren she entreated me not to
let you fight Bateese. Yes, she is
afraid you will be badly hurt. And
she does not want to see you hurt
again. But I tell you that I am not
jealous, m'sieul She does not try to
hide things from me. She tells me
everything, like a little child. And
so'-"
"1 am going to fight Bateese," said
David. He wondered if St. Pierre
could hear the thumping of his heart,
or if his face gave betrayal of the hot
flood it was pumping through his
body. "Bateese and 'I have pledged
ourselves. We shall fight, unless you
tie one of us hand and foot. And as
for a wager-"
"Yes -what have you to wager?"
demanded St. Pierre eagerly.
"You know the odds are great,"
temporized Carrigan.
"That I concede, m'sieu,"
"But a fight without a wager would
be like a pipe without tobacco, St.
Pierre."
'"You speak truly, m'sieu."
David came nearer and laid a hand
on the other's arm. "St. Pierre, I
hope you -and your Jeanne --will un-
derstand what I am about to offer- It
is this. If Bateese whips me, I will
disappear into the forests, and no
word shall ever pass my lips of what
has passed sine that hour behind the
rock -and this. No whisper of it
will ever reach the Law. I will for-
get the attempted murder and the
suspicious mumiblings of your Broken
Man. You will be safe. Your Jean-
ne will 'be safe -if Bateese whips
ine."
He paused and waited. St. Pierre
made no answer, but amazement came
into his face, and after that a slow,
and burning fire in his eyes which
told how deeply and vitally Carri-
gan's words had struck into his soul.
"And if I should happen to win,"
continued David, turning a bit care-
lessly toward the window "why I
should expect as large a payment
from you, If I win, your fulfillment
of the wager will be to tell me in
every detail why your wife tried to
kill me 'berhind the rock, and you will
also tell me all that you know about
the man I am after, Black Audemard.
That is all. I am asking for no odds,
though you concede the handicap is
great,"
Het did rat look at St. Pierre. Be-
hind him he heard the other's deep
breathing. For a space neither spoke.
Outside they could hear the soft
swish of water, the low voices of men
in the stern, and a shout and" the
barking of a dog coming from the
raft far out on the river. For David
the moment was one of suspense. He
turned again, a bit caressly, as if
his proposition were a tier of but
little srignificaruce to him. Sit. Pierre
was not looking at him. He was star-
ing toward the door, as if through it
he could see the powerful form of
'Baheese bending over the stern sweep.
And Oarrigan could see that his face
was flaming with a great desire, and
that the blood in his body was pound-
ing to the mighty urge of it.
Suddenly he faced Carrigan.
"M'sieu, listen to me," he said.
"You are a brave man. You are a
Man of honor, and I know you will
bury sacredly in your heart what I
am goring to tell you now, and never
let a word of it escape -even to my
Jeanne. I do not 'blam'e you for lov-
ing her. Non! You could not help
that. You have fought well to keep
it within yourself, and for that II
honor you. How do I know? Mon
Dieu, she has told me! A woman's
heart understands, and a woman's
ears rare quick to hear, m'sieu. When
you were sick, and your mind was
wandering, you told her again and
again, that you loved her -and when
she 'brought ytou back bo life, her
eyes saw more than once the troth of
what your lips had betrayed, though
you tried to keep it to yourself. Ev-
en more, m'sieu-she felt the touch
of your lips on her hair that day. She
understands. She has told me every-
thing, openly, innocently -yet her
;";ggt t 111ca
lat4cmali y.1aDn. '4041
r apl: tbhy' 4PJ'
'shoe is lov,ss7,d.�.,
ave seen the
hada$ to Jbi' ey esTtq [juhe gtwi he,.-
alaBOraa ora cis 1,414 nisi there s ts,
But II Baca not S:'elsaael Nen! ly is
ealy hscaue you 4 a brave Mian,
and once 'of larpleu, thAt I •te'.1 ,•h . all
this. ,Slav mould die ng shame sill she
know 1 had !bete ap1''her confidepace.
Yet it i0 imetei $ary 'that I tail you,
heeausa if we malto We big wo{Qar we
aramt
drop My' ,Vere front the
gamble. Da you emnprshe i me,
Dn'umee
"We are two Et=, s si siren,
fighting men. 1-- t erre Boulain-
cele not feel the shame of le
Wham a woinaWs heart is pure a
sweet, and whoa rr man has fought
against 'Dove with honor as you have
fought. A'aa1 you, . na'eleu- 411eavid
Carrigasn, sea + , Etatco--•can riot strip
with your hard snaial'ae nit that ten-
der heart, that is Bice a Bawer, and
Which tibia moment is heatiesee foster
than it should with '' m fear that some
barna is going to 'Wall you. as it
not so, m'eieu ? We Will make the
water, yes. But if you whip Batease
-and you can not dd'o t'• t in a hun-
dred years of 8ightimg--s will not tell
you why My Jiaaatmte shat at you be-
hind the rock. Nan, 'never! Yet I
swear II will tell you the other. If
you win, will tell you all I k'aeow
about -Roger Audernard, and that is
consideralble, mtlsieu. Do you agree."
Slowly David bald out a hand. St.
Pierre's gripped it. The finger of
the two men met like bands of steel.
"To -morrow you will fight," said St.
Pierre. "You will fight and be beat-
en so terribly that you may always
show the Marks of it. I am sorry.
Such a man as you I would rather
have as a brother than an enemy.
And she will never forgive me. She
will always remember it. The thought
will never die out of her heart that 1
was a beast to let you fight Bateese.
But it is 'best for all. And my men?
Ah! Diable, but it will be great sport
for them, m'sieul"
His hand unclasped. die turned to
the door, A moment later it closed
behind him, and David was alone. e
had not.spoken. glle had not replied
to the engulfing truths that had fal-
len quietly and without a betrayal of
passion from St. Pierre?s lips. In-
wardly he was curshed. Yet his face
was like stone, hiding his shame. And
then, suddenly, theme came a sound
from outside that sent the blood
through his cold veins again. It was
laughter, the great, 'booming laughter
of St. Pierre! ;It was not the merri-
ment of a man whose heart was
bleeding, or into whose life hail come
an unexpected pain or grief. It was
wild and free, and filled with the joy
of the sun -filled day.
And David, listening to it, felt
something that was more than ad-
miration for this man growing within
him. And unconsciously his lips re-
peated St. Pierre's words.
"To -morrow -you will fight."
Plr
010
easy
„,r
r„
a
XV][II
For many minutes David stood at
the bateau window and watched the
canoe that carried St. Pierre Boulain
and the Broken Man back to the raft.
It moved slowly, as if St. Pierre was
loitering with a purpose and was
thinking deeply of What had passed.
Carrigan's fingers tightened, and his
face grew tense, as he gazed out into
the glow of the western sun. Now
that the stress of nerveibreaking
moments in the cabin was over, he
no longer made an effort to preserve
the veneer of coolness and decision
with which he had encountered the
chief of the Houlains. Deep in his
soul he was crushed and humiliated.
Every nerve in his body was bleed-
ing.
He had heard St. Pierre's big laugh
a moment before, but it must have
been the laugh of a man who was
stabbed to the heart. And he was
going back to Marie -Anne like that-
driifting scarcely faster than the cur-
rent that he might steal time to
strengthen himself before he looked
into her eyes again. David could see
him motionless, his giant shoulders
hunched forward a little, his head
bowed, and in the stern the Broken
Man paddled listlessly, his eyes on
the face of his master. Without vmice
David cursed himself. In his egoism
he had told 'himself tat he had made
a splendid fight in resiatiinb the tempt-
ation of a great love for the wife of
St. Pierre. But what was his own
struggle compared with this tragedy
which St. Pierre was now facing?
He turned from the window and
looked about the cabin room again --
the woman's room and St. Pierre's --
and his face !burned in its silent ac-
cusation. Like a living thing it
painted another picture for him. For
a space he lost his own identity. He
saw himself in the place of St. Pierre.
He was the husband of Marie -Anne,
worshipping her even as St. Pierre
must worship her, and he cane, as
St. Pierre had come, to find a stran-
ger in his home, a stranger who had
lain in his bed, a stranger whom his
wife had nursed hack to life, a
stranger who had fallen in love with
hi,s most inviolable possession,, who
had told her of his love, who had
kissed her, who had held her close
in his arms, whose presence had
brought a warmer flush and a bright-
er glow into eyes and cheeks that
until this stranger's coming had be-
longed only to him. And., he heard
her, as St. Pierre had heard her,
pleading with him tn keep this man
from harm; he heard her soft voice,
telling of the things that had passed
between them, arnd he saw in her
eyes -
With 'almiost a cry he swept the
thought 'and the picture from him. It
ues an atroei'ous thing to conceive,
imposeible of reality. And yet the
truth would not go. What would he
have done in St. Pierre's place?
He went to the window again. Yes,
St. Pierre was a bigger man than he.
For S't. Pierre had come quietly and
calmly, offering a hand of friendship,
generous, smiling, 1<ceping his hurt
to himself, while he. Have Carrigan,
would have come with the murder of
man in his heart.
Ills eye, passed from te canoe to
the raft, and from the big reft to
the hazy Hama of green and golden
forest that Melted of -Pito intermin-
el le miles of diotanee hegrond the riv•
er. He knew that on the other side
eareta
The unt•itiro vraBuue of.Veless ST' 1a, pie
by daatos --lit o kanorrn 124' t1ssulhr, e . 49 O, t.';
every(dy. '
so why not noesere tecaermJth, .esa r •o<a ')lame
by ibovin Crowell l8rand 0481112B ,' yrraprte'
your Mechem. lig°o dleais'II; o.
Mean of
Famous ous II' GDd Products
erne 11058
The
CANADA STA
Iltrai tad
ileOi'<T'Il RIEAL
CH oe
of him lay that same distance, north,
east, south, and west, vast spaces in
an =peopled world, the same green
and golden forests, ten thousand
plains and rivers and lakes, a million
hiding -places where romance and
tragedy might remain forever undis-
turbed. The thought came to him
that it would not be difficult to slip
out into that world and disappear. 'He
almost owed it to St. Pierre. It was
the voice of Bateese in a snatch of
wild and discordant song that brought
him back into grim reality. There
was, after all, that embarrassing
mattet of justice rind the accursed
Law!
After a little he observed that the
canoe was moving faster, and that
Andre's. paddle was working steadily
and with force. St. Pierre no longer
sat hunched in the bow. His head
was erect, and he was waving a hand
in the direction of the raft. A figure
had come from the cabin on the huge
mass of floating timber. David caught,
the shimmer of a woman's dress,
something white fluttering over her
head, waving back at St. Pierre. It
was Marie -Anne, and he moved away
from the window.
He wondered what was passing be-
tween St. Pierre and his wife in the
hour that followed. The bateau kept
abreast of the raft, moving neither
faster nor slower than it did, and
twice he surrendered to the desire to
scan the deck of the floating timbers
through his binoculars. But the cab-
in held St. Pierre and Marie -Anne,
and he saw neither of them again un-
til the sun was setting. Then St.
Pierre came out -alone.
Even at that distance over the
broad river he heard the booming
voice of the chief of the Boulains.
Life sprang up where there had been
the drowse of inactivity aboard the
raft. A dozen more of the great
sweeps were swiftly manned by men
who appeared suddenly from the
shaded places of canvas shelters and
striped tents. A murmur of voices
rose over the water, and then the
murmur was broken by howls and
shouts as the rivermen ran to their
places at the command of St. Pierre's
voice, and as the 'sweeps began to
flash in the setting sun, it gave way
entirely to the evening chant of the
Paddling Song.
David gripped himself as he listen-
ed and watched the slowly drifting
glory of the world that came down
bo the rshores of the river. He could
see St. Pierre clearly, for the bateau
had worked its way nearer. He could
see the bare heads and naked arm;
of the rivermen at the srweeps. The
sweet breath of the forests filled his
lungs, as that picture lay before him,
and there came into his soul a cov-
etousness and a yearning where be-
fore there had been humiliation and
the grim urge of duty. Ile could
breathe the air of that world, he
could look at its 'beauty, he could 'MOT -
ship it -and yet he knew that he was
not a part of it as those others were
a part of it. He envied te men at
the sweeps; he felt his heart swelling
at the exultation and joy in their
song. They were going home -home
clown the big rivers, home to the heart
of God's Country, where wives and
sweethearts and happiness were wait
ing for them, and their visions were
his visions as he stared wide-eyed
j�4i��Nor,' Oirmtimmontt Q�
12" °rte¢ ll ..^..""'., ng, o
IIrtalra rnmsoth9seim
No matter- what of . • he rte, 11s
try "Sootha-Salva "I :s ,, • mn c i
o famous physician hese h. weak calls
nick relief to +thousana9n ai? ocean
.1•.t you can count on it coa2histin
itching eaad burning, healli { the once cue -
faces, and completely clew nimg yaw olda
ell torturing iFraRma. mouton
II4
caseha vaaD mot4°nc.g
mucro uneamg 4rn, boa= e2 • °� , s ^ °•, tl
ryro�u We nnc41011e.,12n,, y c,o ,-n ti) ,
{taxon 4® 17`'0.413114-0-ehnic ifanan ,
at- Gv <Ana =2=4 "prow mr. uvaor.
,,nrrr.
and motionless over the river. And
yet he was irrevocably an alien. I:I e
was more than .that -an enemy, a
man -hound sent out on a trail to de-
stroy, an agent of a powerful and
merciless force that carried with it
punishment and death.
The crew of the bateau had joined
in the evening song of the rivermen
on the raft, and over the ridges and
hollows of the forest tops, red and
green Land gold in the last warm glory
of the sun, echoed that chanting
voice of men. David understood now
what St. Pierre?s command had been.
The huge raft with its tented city of
life was preparing to tie up for the
night. A quarter of a mile ahead the
river widened, so that on the far side
was a low, clean shore toward which
the efforts of the men art the sweeps
were slowly edging the raft. York
boats shot out on the shore side and
dropped anchors that helped drag the
big craft in. Two others tugged at
tow -fines fastened to the s'horeside
bow, and within twenty minutes the
first men were plunging up out of
the water on the white strip of beach
and were whipping the tie -lines about
the nearest streets. David unconsc-
iously was smiling in the thrill and
triumph of these bast moments, and
not until they were over did he sense
the fact that Bateese and his crew
were bringing the bateau in to the
opposite shore. Before the sun was
quite down, both raft and houseboat
were anchored for the night.
As the shadows of the distant for-
ests deepened, Carrigan felt impend-
ing about him an oppression of empti-
ness and loneliness which he had not
experienced before. He was disap-
pointed that the bateau had not tied
up with the raft. Already he could
see men building fires. Spirals of
smoke began to rise from the shore,
and he knew that the riverman's hap-
piest of all hours, supper time, was
close at hand. He looked at his
watch. It was after seven o'clock.
Then he watched the fading away of
the sun until only the red glow of it
remained in the west, and against the
still thicker shadows the fires of the
rivermen threw up yellow flames. On
his own side, Bateese and the bateau
crew were preparing their meal. It
was eight o'clock when a man he had
not seen before brought in his supper.
He ate, scarcely sensing the taste of
his food, and half an hour later the
man reappeared for the dishes.
It was not quite dark when he re-
turned to his window, but the far
shore was only an indistinct blur of
gloom. The fires were brighter. One
of them, 'built solely because of the
rive'rmen's inherent love of light and
cheer, threw the blaze of its flaming
logs twenty feet into the air.
file wondered what Marie -Anne was
doing in this hour. Last night they
had been together. He had marveled
at the witchery of the moonlight in
her hair and eyes, he had told her of
the beauty of it, she had smiled, she
had laughed softly with him - for
hours they had sat in the spell of the
golden night and the glory of the
river. And to -night -now -as she
with St. Pierre, waiting as they had
waited last night for the rising of the
moon? Hiad she forgotten? Could
she forget? Or was she, as he
thought St. Pierre had painfully tried
to make him believe, innocent of all
the ,!thoughts and desires that had
come to him, as he sat worshipping
her in their stolen hours? He could
think of them only as stolen, for he
did not believe Marie -Anne had re-
vealed to her husband all she might
have told him.
He was sure he would never see
her again as he had seen her then,
and something of fiitternese rose in
him as he thought of that. St. Pierre,
enuki he have seen her faee and eyes
when he told her that her hair in the
moonlight was lovelier than anything
he hart over seen, would have throttled
him with his naked hands in that
meeting in the cabin. For St. Pierre's
code would not have had her eyes
droop under their long lashes of e'r
cheeks flush ao warmly at the Words
of another man -and he cotald not take
vengeance on the woman hern'elf.
she had not told St. Pierre all dm
might have told! There were things
which she must have kept to herrsedfc,
which she dared not reveal even tic.
this great-hearted man who was her
husband. 'Shame, if nothing more,
had kept her silent.
(Continued next week)
usy bands ---vat hard tasks
day in and day our. Persian
keeps the &rirn soft and
pliable. Removes redness
and relieves irritation.
At way P3cup, iso
Uv E RAA N
BAILM
3
LONDON AND IT/IINGHALII
North.
a.m. p.m..
Centralia 10.36 5.51
Exeter 10.49 6.06
Hensall 11.03 6.118
Kippen 11.08 6.23
Brucefield 11.17 6.22'
(163) (165)
Clinton 11.53 6.52
Londesboro .... 1213 7.12
Blyth 12.22 7.21
12.34 7,386
12.50 7.55
Belgrave
Wingham
Soaath,
Wingham
Belgrave
Blyth
Londesboro
Clinton
Brucefield
Kippers
Hensall
Exeter
Centralia
a.m.
6.55
7.15
'7.27
7.35
'7.56
7.58
(162)
822
8.32
8.47
8.59
C. N. 118. TIIRIIB TA18iI1, li
Nast.
p-mt.
SAS
8.2hi
3.38
3.47
4.111)
4.28
(164).
4.38
4.48
5.®5,
5.17
0.55. p.m.
Goderich 6.20 2.207
Holmesville 8.38 2.37
Clinton 8.44 2.50
Seaforth 6.59 .0
St. Oolnmban 7.06 1.316r
Dublin) 7.11 SIM
Dublin
St. Columban
Seaforth ...,
Clinton
Holmesville
Goderich .... ,
West.
a.m. p.m. p.ea
11.17 5.88 9.37
1122 5.44 --
11.38 5.58 9.50'
11.50 6.08-8.58 10.04
12.01 7.a+ 10.18
12.20 7.20 710.80
C. P. 111. TIME TA
ks
LI;
a.m.
Goderich 5,58
Menet • 528
McGaw 0.04
Auburn Cala
Blyth Q.00
Walton GAO
McNaught CM
Toronto 2.0..5
a7sot.
c.tn•
Toronto V.,10
McNaught . gq,.
Waltonilk e
Blyth ..... , .....au
Auburntam
McGaw
•
e--
jam' a J. IBII GGAIED
13a aster, Solicltox,
Notary 'Public, lam.
'4 1a Moe: - - Seaforth, CEA,
aar
IL S. HEM .....
aarsister, Solicitor, Convey ser
tad Votary Public. Solicitor tog the
liaceenipimn lank. '• a,, • -' in rear of the
aorminr'®n 'I:anis, Seeforth. Mooney to
IIoia a.
Mar & BEEN
Bnrahatcp�r�s, Solidi •ra, Coraveyce
2 aendl Notaries r s ilia, Faae. a ,4C®
Rai the Edae Building, oppeoita The
oaitor Osce.
o-
Ykat 1YIl81INARY
JOHN GREETS, V.&.
Elomor graduate of Ontario Veterin-
o College. All diseases of domeettis
r r•+' aIletreated. Calls promptly at-
ded to and charges moderate. Vet-
,terril sry Dentistry a specialty. Mace
aprad residence on Goderieh Street, one
elkaurre east of Dr. Mackay's +•'r';,ce, Sea -
p®.
c
,
A. R. CAMP I: LL, V,S.
Graduate of Ontario Veterinary
<2 -allege, University of Toronto. All
diseases of domestic animals treated
t><7 the most modern principles.
t ir:,'arges reasonable. Day or night
ells promptly attended to. Office on
Wain Street, Hensall, opposite Town
1lEa1111. Phone 116.
o-
MEDICAL
o-�
DR. 1?. J. R. FOI: ST1EiR
Eye, Ear, Nose aiad Throat
Graduate in Medicine, University of
Woronto.
Late assistant New York Ophthal-
aniai and Aural Institute, Moorefield's
Eye and Golden Square Throat Hos-
tats, London, Eng. At Commercial
16lotel, Seaforth, third Monday in
(each month, from 11 a.m. to 3 r•.m.
33 Waterloo Street, South, Stra'a ord.
Phone 267, Stratford.
Next visit in September.
DR. W. C. SPROAT
Graduate of Faculty of Medicine,
:University of Western Ontario, Lon•
don. Member of College of Physic -
Jaw and Surgeons of Ontario. Office
Gra Aberhart's Drug Store, Main St.,
elsaaaforth. Phone 90.
u
DR. R. P. I. DOUGALL
Honor graduate of Faculty of
Medicine and Master of Science, Uni-
versity of Western Ontario, London.
11Z amber of College of Physicians and
f3nrgeons of Ontario. Office 2 doors
Gard of post office. Phone 56, Hensall,
Mario. 3004-tf
DR. A. NEWTON-BRADY
Bayfield.
Graduate Dublin University, Ire -
'land. Late Extern Assistant Master
lxotunda 'Hospital for Women ani
Children, Dublin. Office at residence
lately occupied by Mrs. Parsons.
Hours, 9 to 10 a.m., 6 to 7 p.m.;
mndays, 1 to 2 p.m. 2866-2F
DR. F. J. BURROWS
*ace and residence Goderich Street,
cant of the Methodist Church, Sea-
4orth. Phone 46. Coroner for the
(County of Huron.
DR. C. MACKAY
C. Mackay, honor graduate of Trin-
Ilty University, and gold medalist of
`Trinity Medical College; member of
ale College of Physicians and Sur-
aons of Ontario.
c DR. H. HUGH ROSS
Graduate of University of Toronto
fit'raculty of Medicine, member of Col,
liege of Physicians and Surgeons of
Ontario; pass graduate courses in
Chicago Clinical School of Chicago ;
Loyal Ophthalmic Hospital, London,
England; University Hospital, Lon-
don, England. Office -Back of 'Do-
minion Bank, Seaforth. Phone No. 6.
Night calls answered from residence,
Victoria Street, Seaforth.
DR. Z. A. MUNN
Successor to Dr. R. R. Rose
Or:'duate of Northwestern Univers-
fltty, Chicago, Ill. Licentiate Royal
College of Dental Surgeons, Toronto.
Oface over Sills' Hardware, Main St.,
a',eafoath. Phone 151.
DR, IF'. J. f: ECiBIELY
Graduate Royal College of Dental
Surgeons, Toronto. Office over W. R.
smith's Grocery, Main Street, Sea-
Qorth. Phones: Office, 185 W; resi-
dlence, 185 J. 3055-tf
(CONSULTING ENGIINEEI'
S. W. Archibald, B.A.'Sc. (Tor.),
O.L.S., Registered Professional En-
l1ggieaneer and Land Surveyor. Associate
11iember Engineering Institute of Can-
nel . Once Seaforth, Ontario.
AUCTIIONEERS
THOMAS ril1BOWN
Licensed auctioneer for the counties
of Huron and Perth. Correspeadenee
arrangements for sale dates can be
made by calling The Expositor Ortrce
Seaforth. Charges moderate, a n d
satisfaction guaranteed. Phone 302.
OSCA r" 1 LOPDP
Honor Graduate Carey Ions' Na-
tional School of Auctioneering, Chi-
cago. Special course taken in Mural
t:red Live Stock, Real Estate, Mer-
chandise and Farm Sales. R'ltes lee
keeping with prevailing market. Sat-
lsfaction assured. Write or vire,
Oocar Klopp, Zurich, Ont. Phone,
18-", ;, • 2866-'1
R. T. 1 L l I71 P�+IR
Licensed auctioneer for the County
of ' uron. Sales attended to in Stell
porta of the County. Seven wars' en-
nrrience in Manitoba and Saelslat lse-
wan. Terme reaaon�lb➢a. me rvo
170 r 11 Exeter, Centralia P.O., I'��
11e. 1. Orders left at The i$I9ei'en 2a-
p�poeltor ®ii;ce, Seaforth, promptly ct-
oedcd-
. � 4te-s Did &q " a
QContieneed fresh last week)
St, Pierre cross to his feat and look-
ed ab -int the ea as with a shining
light in Ibis eyes that wao both pride
and ¢saltation. !:is moved toward the
end of the room, where the piano
stood, and for a moment his big (en -
gem touched the keys; then, seeing
the lacy bit elf handkerchief that lay
'there, be 'pick.,', it sap• -.4n .� placed it
bade again. Carrigan did not urge
his question, but waited. In spite of
his effoat to fight it down he found
himself in the grip of a mysterious
and growing thrill as he watched St.
Pierre. Never had the presence of
weather man had the same effect up-
on -m, and strangely the thought
came to him that he was matched -
even overmatched. It was as if St.
Pierre had brought with him into the
cabin something more than the splen-
did strength of his body, a thing that
reached out in the interval of silence
between them, warning Carrigan that
all the law in the world would not
swerve the chief of the !: oulains from
what was already in his mind. For a
moment the thought passed from
David that fate had placed him up
against the hazard of enmity with St.
Pierre. His vision centered in the
man alone. And as he, too, rose to
his feet, an unconscious smile came to
his lips as he recalled the boastings
of Bateese.
"I ask you," said he, "if you would
really stake your life in a matter such
as that? Of course, if your words
were merely accidental, and meant
nothing-"
"If I had a dozen lives, I would
stake them, one on top of the other,
as I have said," interrupted St. Pier-
re. Suddenly'his laugh boomed out
and his voice became louder. "M'�sieu
Carrigan, I have come to offer you
just that test! Oui, I could kill you
now. I could put you at the bottom
of the river, as Bateese thinks is
right. Mon Dieu, how completely I
could make you disappear! And then
my Jeanne would '`ie safe. She would
not go behind prison bars. She would
go on living, and laughing, and sing-
ing in the big forests, where she be-
longs. And Black 'Roger Audemard,
the rascal, would be safe for a time!
But that would be like destroying a
little child. You are so helpless now.
So you are going on to the Chateau
Boulain with us, and if at the end of
the second month from to -day you
do not willingly say I have won my
wager-why-m'sieu-I will go with
you into the forest, and' you may
shoot out'of me the life which is my
end of the gamble. Is that not fair?
Gan you suggest a better way -be-
tween men like you and me?"
"I can at least sngge.st a way that
has the virtue •of saving time," re-
plied David. "First, however, I must
understand my position here. I am,
take it, a prisoner."
"A guest, with certain restrictions
placed upon you, m'sieu," corrected
St. Pierre.
The eyes of the two men met on a
dead level.
"To -morrow morning I am going to
fight Bateese," said David. "It is a
little sporting event we have fixed up
between us for the amusement of -
our men. I have heard that Bateese
is the best fighting man along the
Three Rivers. And 1-1 do not like
to have any other man claim that
distinction when I am around."
For the first time St. Pierre's plac-
idity seemed to leave him. Itis brow
became clouded, a moment's frown
grew in his face, and there was a
certain disconsolate hopelessness in
the shrug of his shoulders. 1t was
as if Carrigan's words had suddenly
rabb'ed the day of all its • sunshine for
the chief of the Boulain. His voice,
too, carried an unhappy and disap-
pointed note as he made a gesture to-
ward the window.
"M'asrieu, on that raft out there are
many of my men, and they have
scarcely rested or slept since word
was brought to them that aastrantger
was to 'fight Concombre Bateese. Ton -
erre, they have gambled without ev-
er seeing you until the clothes on
their backs, are in the hazard, and
they harve cracked their muscles in
labor to overtake you! They have
prayed away their very souls that it
would be a good fight, and that Bat-
eese would not eat you up too quick-
ly. It has been a long time since we
have seen a good fight, a long time
since the last man dared to stand up
against the half-breed. Ugh, it t�e'ars
out my 'heart to tell you that the
fight can not be!"
St. Pierre made no effort to sup-
press his emotion. He was dike a
huge, disappointed boy.'He walked
to the window, peered forth at the
raft, and as he shrugged his big
shoulders again something like a
groan came from him.
The thrill of approaching triumph
swept through David's blood. The
flame of it was in his eyes when St.
Pierre turned from the windmnv.
"And you are disappointed, St.
Pierre? You would like to see that
Rght?"
The 'blue steel in St. Pierre's eyes
flashed back. "If the price were a
year of my life, I would give it -if
Rateese did not eat you up too quick-
ly. I love to look upon a good fight,
where there is no venom of hatred
in the 'blows!"
"Then you shall see a good fight,
St. Pierre."
"Bateese would kill you, m'sieu.
Yon are not big. You are not his
match."
' 1 shalli whip him, St. Pierre
whip him until he avows nue his mas-
ar.'
"Yon clo not know the half-breed,
m'sien. Twice 1 have tried him in
friendly combat myself and have been
beaten .'•
"But 1 shall whip liim," iep'eated
Carrigan. "I will wawa yon :'ny-
thing-anything in the world --oven
life 'against life---rthat.1 ^alp him!"
The gloom had faded from the face
of St. Pierre Boulain. But in a easem-
ent it clouded again.
"My Jeanne baa made me promiae
that II will stop the fight," he acid.
"And why -why should she insist
an a matter such as this, which pro-
perly should he settled among men?'
asked David.
Again St. (Pierre laughed; with an
effort, it seamed: "She is gentle -
hearted, m'sneu. She laughed and
thought it quite a joke when Bateese
humbled me. 'What! 'My great St.
Pierre, with the blood of old France
in his veins, 'beaten by a man who
has been named after a vegetable°
she cried. I tell you she was merry
over it, m'sieu! She laughed until
the tears came into her eyes. But
with you it is different. She was
wtiste rwbren she entreated me not to
let you fight Bateese. Yes, she is
afraid you will be badly hurt. And
she does not want to see you hurt
again. But I tell you that I am not
jealous, m'sieul She does not try to
hide things from me. She tells me
everything, like a little child. And
so'-"
"1 am going to fight Bateese," said
David. He wondered if St. Pierre
could hear the thumping of his heart,
or if his face gave betrayal of the hot
flood it was pumping through his
body. "Bateese and 'I have pledged
ourselves. We shall fight, unless you
tie one of us hand and foot. And as
for a wager-"
"Yes -what have you to wager?"
demanded St. Pierre eagerly.
"You know the odds are great,"
temporized Carrigan.
"That I concede, m'sieu,"
"But a fight without a wager would
be like a pipe without tobacco, St.
Pierre."
'"You speak truly, m'sieu."
David came nearer and laid a hand
on the other's arm. "St. Pierre, I
hope you -and your Jeanne --will un-
derstand what I am about to offer- It
is this. If Bateese whips me, I will
disappear into the forests, and no
word shall ever pass my lips of what
has passed sine that hour behind the
rock -and this. No whisper of it
will ever reach the Law. I will for-
get the attempted murder and the
suspicious mumiblings of your Broken
Man. You will be safe. Your Jean-
ne will 'be safe -if Bateese whips
ine."
He paused and waited. St. Pierre
made no answer, but amazement came
into his face, and after that a slow,
and burning fire in his eyes which
told how deeply and vitally Carri-
gan's words had struck into his soul.
"And if I should happen to win,"
continued David, turning a bit care-
lessly toward the window "why I
should expect as large a payment
from you, If I win, your fulfillment
of the wager will be to tell me in
every detail why your wife tried to
kill me 'berhind the rock, and you will
also tell me all that you know about
the man I am after, Black Audemard.
That is all. I am asking for no odds,
though you concede the handicap is
great,"
Het did rat look at St. Pierre. Be-
hind him he heard the other's deep
breathing. For a space neither spoke.
Outside they could hear the soft
swish of water, the low voices of men
in the stern, and a shout and" the
barking of a dog coming from the
raft far out on the river. For David
the moment was one of suspense. He
turned again, a bit caressly, as if
his proposition were a tier of but
little srignificaruce to him. Sit. Pierre
was not looking at him. He was star-
ing toward the door, as if through it
he could see the powerful form of
'Baheese bending over the stern sweep.
And Oarrigan could see that his face
was flaming with a great desire, and
that the blood in his body was pound-
ing to the mighty urge of it.
Suddenly he faced Carrigan.
"M'sieu, listen to me," he said.
"You are a brave man. You are a
Man of honor, and I know you will
bury sacredly in your heart what I
am goring to tell you now, and never
let a word of it escape -even to my
Jeanne. I do not 'blam'e you for lov-
ing her. Non! You could not help
that. You have fought well to keep
it within yourself, and for that II
honor you. How do I know? Mon
Dieu, she has told me! A woman's
heart understands, and a woman's
ears rare quick to hear, m'sieu. When
you were sick, and your mind was
wandering, you told her again and
again, that you loved her -and when
she 'brought ytou back bo life, her
eyes saw more than once the troth of
what your lips had betrayed, though
you tried to keep it to yourself. Ev-
en more, m'sieu-she felt the touch
of your lips on her hair that day. She
understands. She has told me every-
thing, openly, innocently -yet her
;";ggt t 111ca
lat4cmali y.1aDn. '4041
r apl: tbhy' 4PJ'
'shoe is lov,ss7,d.�.,
ave seen the
hada$ to Jbi' ey esTtq [juhe gtwi he,.-
alaBOraa ora cis 1,414 nisi there s ts,
But II Baca not S:'elsaael Nen! ly is
ealy hscaue you 4 a brave Mian,
and once 'of larpleu, thAt I •te'.1 ,•h . all
this. ,Slav mould die ng shame sill she
know 1 had !bete ap1''her confidepace.
Yet it i0 imetei $ary 'that I tail you,
heeausa if we malto We big wo{Qar we
aramt
drop My' ,Vere front the
gamble. Da you emnprshe i me,
Dn'umee
"We are two Et=, s si siren,
fighting men. 1-- t erre Boulain-
cele not feel the shame of le
Wham a woinaWs heart is pure a
sweet, and whoa rr man has fought
against 'Dove with honor as you have
fought. A'aa1 you, . na'eleu- 411eavid
Carrigasn, sea + , Etatco--•can riot strip
with your hard snaial'ae nit that ten-
der heart, that is Bice a Bawer, and
Which tibia moment is heatiesee foster
than it should with '' m fear that some
barna is going to 'Wall you. as it
not so, m'eieu ? We Will make the
water, yes. But if you whip Batease
-and you can not dd'o t'• t in a hun-
dred years of 8ightimg--s will not tell
you why My Jiaaatmte shat at you be-
hind the rock. Nan, 'never! Yet I
swear II will tell you the other. If
you win, will tell you all I k'aeow
about -Roger Audernard, and that is
consideralble, mtlsieu. Do you agree."
Slowly David bald out a hand. St.
Pierre's gripped it. The finger of
the two men met like bands of steel.
"To -morrow you will fight," said St.
Pierre. "You will fight and be beat-
en so terribly that you may always
show the Marks of it. I am sorry.
Such a man as you I would rather
have as a brother than an enemy.
And she will never forgive me. She
will always remember it. The thought
will never die out of her heart that 1
was a beast to let you fight Bateese.
But it is 'best for all. And my men?
Ah! Diable, but it will be great sport
for them, m'sieul"
His hand unclasped. die turned to
the door, A moment later it closed
behind him, and David was alone. e
had not.spoken. glle had not replied
to the engulfing truths that had fal-
len quietly and without a betrayal of
passion from St. Pierre?s lips. In-
wardly he was curshed. Yet his face
was like stone, hiding his shame. And
then, suddenly, theme came a sound
from outside that sent the blood
through his cold veins again. It was
laughter, the great, 'booming laughter
of St. Pierre! ;It was not the merri-
ment of a man whose heart was
bleeding, or into whose life hail come
an unexpected pain or grief. It was
wild and free, and filled with the joy
of the sun -filled day.
And David, listening to it, felt
something that was more than ad-
miration for this man growing within
him. And unconsciously his lips re-
peated St. Pierre's words.
"To -morrow -you will fight."
Plr
010
easy
„,r
r„
a
XV][II
For many minutes David stood at
the bateau window and watched the
canoe that carried St. Pierre Boulain
and the Broken Man back to the raft.
It moved slowly, as if St. Pierre was
loitering with a purpose and was
thinking deeply of What had passed.
Carrigan's fingers tightened, and his
face grew tense, as he gazed out into
the glow of the western sun. Now
that the stress of nerveibreaking
moments in the cabin was over, he
no longer made an effort to preserve
the veneer of coolness and decision
with which he had encountered the
chief of the Houlains. Deep in his
soul he was crushed and humiliated.
Every nerve in his body was bleed-
ing.
He had heard St. Pierre's big laugh
a moment before, but it must have
been the laugh of a man who was
stabbed to the heart. And he was
going back to Marie -Anne like that-
driifting scarcely faster than the cur-
rent that he might steal time to
strengthen himself before he looked
into her eyes again. David could see
him motionless, his giant shoulders
hunched forward a little, his head
bowed, and in the stern the Broken
Man paddled listlessly, his eyes on
the face of his master. Without vmice
David cursed himself. In his egoism
he had told 'himself tat he had made
a splendid fight in resiatiinb the tempt-
ation of a great love for the wife of
St. Pierre. But what was his own
struggle compared with this tragedy
which St. Pierre was now facing?
He turned from the window and
looked about the cabin room again --
the woman's room and St. Pierre's --
and his face !burned in its silent ac-
cusation. Like a living thing it
painted another picture for him. For
a space he lost his own identity. He
saw himself in the place of St. Pierre.
He was the husband of Marie -Anne,
worshipping her even as St. Pierre
must worship her, and he cane, as
St. Pierre had come, to find a stran-
ger in his home, a stranger who had
lain in his bed, a stranger whom his
wife had nursed hack to life, a
stranger who had fallen in love with
hi,s most inviolable possession,, who
had told her of his love, who had
kissed her, who had held her close
in his arms, whose presence had
brought a warmer flush and a bright-
er glow into eyes and cheeks that
until this stranger's coming had be-
longed only to him. And., he heard
her, as St. Pierre had heard her,
pleading with him tn keep this man
from harm; he heard her soft voice,
telling of the things that had passed
between them, arnd he saw in her
eyes -
With 'almiost a cry he swept the
thought 'and the picture from him. It
ues an atroei'ous thing to conceive,
imposeible of reality. And yet the
truth would not go. What would he
have done in St. Pierre's place?
He went to the window again. Yes,
St. Pierre was a bigger man than he.
For S't. Pierre had come quietly and
calmly, offering a hand of friendship,
generous, smiling, 1<ceping his hurt
to himself, while he. Have Carrigan,
would have come with the murder of
man in his heart.
Ills eye, passed from te canoe to
the raft, and from the big reft to
the hazy Hama of green and golden
forest that Melted of -Pito intermin-
el le miles of diotanee hegrond the riv•
er. He knew that on the other side
eareta
The unt•itiro vraBuue of.Veless ST' 1a, pie
by daatos --lit o kanorrn 124' t1ssulhr, e . 49 O, t.';
every(dy. '
so why not noesere tecaermJth, .esa r •o<a ')lame
by ibovin Crowell l8rand 0481112B ,' yrraprte'
your Mechem. lig°o dleais'II; o.
Mean of
Famous ous II' GDd Products
erne 11058
The
CANADA STA
Iltrai tad
ileOi'<T'Il RIEAL
CH oe
of him lay that same distance, north,
east, south, and west, vast spaces in
an =peopled world, the same green
and golden forests, ten thousand
plains and rivers and lakes, a million
hiding -places where romance and
tragedy might remain forever undis-
turbed. The thought came to him
that it would not be difficult to slip
out into that world and disappear. 'He
almost owed it to St. Pierre. It was
the voice of Bateese in a snatch of
wild and discordant song that brought
him back into grim reality. There
was, after all, that embarrassing
mattet of justice rind the accursed
Law!
After a little he observed that the
canoe was moving faster, and that
Andre's. paddle was working steadily
and with force. St. Pierre no longer
sat hunched in the bow. His head
was erect, and he was waving a hand
in the direction of the raft. A figure
had come from the cabin on the huge
mass of floating timber. David caught,
the shimmer of a woman's dress,
something white fluttering over her
head, waving back at St. Pierre. It
was Marie -Anne, and he moved away
from the window.
He wondered what was passing be-
tween St. Pierre and his wife in the
hour that followed. The bateau kept
abreast of the raft, moving neither
faster nor slower than it did, and
twice he surrendered to the desire to
scan the deck of the floating timbers
through his binoculars. But the cab-
in held St. Pierre and Marie -Anne,
and he saw neither of them again un-
til the sun was setting. Then St.
Pierre came out -alone.
Even at that distance over the
broad river he heard the booming
voice of the chief of the Boulains.
Life sprang up where there had been
the drowse of inactivity aboard the
raft. A dozen more of the great
sweeps were swiftly manned by men
who appeared suddenly from the
shaded places of canvas shelters and
striped tents. A murmur of voices
rose over the water, and then the
murmur was broken by howls and
shouts as the rivermen ran to their
places at the command of St. Pierre's
voice, and as the 'sweeps began to
flash in the setting sun, it gave way
entirely to the evening chant of the
Paddling Song.
David gripped himself as he listen-
ed and watched the slowly drifting
glory of the world that came down
bo the rshores of the river. He could
see St. Pierre clearly, for the bateau
had worked its way nearer. He could
see the bare heads and naked arm;
of the rivermen at the srweeps. The
sweet breath of the forests filled his
lungs, as that picture lay before him,
and there came into his soul a cov-
etousness and a yearning where be-
fore there had been humiliation and
the grim urge of duty. Ile could
breathe the air of that world, he
could look at its 'beauty, he could 'MOT -
ship it -and yet he knew that he was
not a part of it as those others were
a part of it. He envied te men at
the sweeps; he felt his heart swelling
at the exultation and joy in their
song. They were going home -home
clown the big rivers, home to the heart
of God's Country, where wives and
sweethearts and happiness were wait
ing for them, and their visions were
his visions as he stared wide-eyed
j�4i��Nor,' Oirmtimmontt Q�
12" °rte¢ ll ..^..""'., ng, o
IIrtalra rnmsoth9seim
No matter- what of . • he rte, 11s
try "Sootha-Salva "I :s ,, • mn c i
o famous physician hese h. weak calls
nick relief to +thousana9n ai? ocean
.1•.t you can count on it coa2histin
itching eaad burning, healli { the once cue -
faces, and completely clew nimg yaw olda
ell torturing iFraRma. mouton
II4
caseha vaaD mot4°nc.g
mucro uneamg 4rn, boa= e2 • °� , s ^ °•, tl
ryro�u We nnc41011e.,12n,, y c,o ,-n ti) ,
{taxon 4® 17`'0.413114-0-ehnic ifanan ,
at- Gv <Ana =2=4 "prow mr. uvaor.
,,nrrr.
and motionless over the river. And
yet he was irrevocably an alien. I:I e
was more than .that -an enemy, a
man -hound sent out on a trail to de-
stroy, an agent of a powerful and
merciless force that carried with it
punishment and death.
The crew of the bateau had joined
in the evening song of the rivermen
on the raft, and over the ridges and
hollows of the forest tops, red and
green Land gold in the last warm glory
of the sun, echoed that chanting
voice of men. David understood now
what St. Pierre?s command had been.
The huge raft with its tented city of
life was preparing to tie up for the
night. A quarter of a mile ahead the
river widened, so that on the far side
was a low, clean shore toward which
the efforts of the men art the sweeps
were slowly edging the raft. York
boats shot out on the shore side and
dropped anchors that helped drag the
big craft in. Two others tugged at
tow -fines fastened to the s'horeside
bow, and within twenty minutes the
first men were plunging up out of
the water on the white strip of beach
and were whipping the tie -lines about
the nearest streets. David unconsc-
iously was smiling in the thrill and
triumph of these bast moments, and
not until they were over did he sense
the fact that Bateese and his crew
were bringing the bateau in to the
opposite shore. Before the sun was
quite down, both raft and houseboat
were anchored for the night.
As the shadows of the distant for-
ests deepened, Carrigan felt impend-
ing about him an oppression of empti-
ness and loneliness which he had not
experienced before. He was disap-
pointed that the bateau had not tied
up with the raft. Already he could
see men building fires. Spirals of
smoke began to rise from the shore,
and he knew that the riverman's hap-
piest of all hours, supper time, was
close at hand. He looked at his
watch. It was after seven o'clock.
Then he watched the fading away of
the sun until only the red glow of it
remained in the west, and against the
still thicker shadows the fires of the
rivermen threw up yellow flames. On
his own side, Bateese and the bateau
crew were preparing their meal. It
was eight o'clock when a man he had
not seen before brought in his supper.
He ate, scarcely sensing the taste of
his food, and half an hour later the
man reappeared for the dishes.
It was not quite dark when he re-
turned to his window, but the far
shore was only an indistinct blur of
gloom. The fires were brighter. One
of them, 'built solely because of the
rive'rmen's inherent love of light and
cheer, threw the blaze of its flaming
logs twenty feet into the air.
file wondered what Marie -Anne was
doing in this hour. Last night they
had been together. He had marveled
at the witchery of the moonlight in
her hair and eyes, he had told her of
the beauty of it, she had smiled, she
had laughed softly with him - for
hours they had sat in the spell of the
golden night and the glory of the
river. And to -night -now -as she
with St. Pierre, waiting as they had
waited last night for the rising of the
moon? Hiad she forgotten? Could
she forget? Or was she, as he
thought St. Pierre had painfully tried
to make him believe, innocent of all
the ,!thoughts and desires that had
come to him, as he sat worshipping
her in their stolen hours? He could
think of them only as stolen, for he
did not believe Marie -Anne had re-
vealed to her husband all she might
have told him.
He was sure he would never see
her again as he had seen her then,
and something of fiitternese rose in
him as he thought of that. St. Pierre,
enuki he have seen her faee and eyes
when he told her that her hair in the
moonlight was lovelier than anything
he hart over seen, would have throttled
him with his naked hands in that
meeting in the cabin. For St. Pierre's
code would not have had her eyes
droop under their long lashes of e'r
cheeks flush ao warmly at the Words
of another man -and he cotald not take
vengeance on the woman hern'elf.
she had not told St. Pierre all dm
might have told! There were things
which she must have kept to herrsedfc,
which she dared not reveal even tic.
this great-hearted man who was her
husband. 'Shame, if nothing more,
had kept her silent.
(Continued next week)
usy bands ---vat hard tasks
day in and day our. Persian
keeps the &rirn soft and
pliable. Removes redness
and relieves irritation.
At way P3cup, iso
Uv E RAA N
BAILM
3
LONDON AND IT/IINGHALII
North.
a.m. p.m..
Centralia 10.36 5.51
Exeter 10.49 6.06
Hensall 11.03 6.118
Kippen 11.08 6.23
Brucefield 11.17 6.22'
(163) (165)
Clinton 11.53 6.52
Londesboro .... 1213 7.12
Blyth 12.22 7.21
12.34 7,386
12.50 7.55
Belgrave
Wingham
Soaath,
Wingham
Belgrave
Blyth
Londesboro
Clinton
Brucefield
Kippers
Hensall
Exeter
Centralia
a.m.
6.55
7.15
'7.27
7.35
'7.56
7.58
(162)
822
8.32
8.47
8.59
C. N. 118. TIIRIIB TA18iI1, li
Nast.
p-mt.
SAS
8.2hi
3.38
3.47
4.111)
4.28
(164).
4.38
4.48
5.®5,
5.17
0.55. p.m.
Goderich 6.20 2.207
Holmesville 8.38 2.37
Clinton 8.44 2.50
Seaforth 6.59 .0
St. Oolnmban 7.06 1.316r
Dublin) 7.11 SIM
Dublin
St. Columban
Seaforth ...,
Clinton
Holmesville
Goderich .... ,
West.
a.m. p.m. p.ea
11.17 5.88 9.37
1122 5.44 --
11.38 5.58 9.50'
11.50 6.08-8.58 10.04
12.01 7.a+ 10.18
12.20 7.20 710.80
C. P. 111. TIME TA
ks
LI;
a.m.
Goderich 5,58
Menet • 528
McGaw 0.04
Auburn Cala
Blyth Q.00
Walton GAO
McNaught CM
Toronto 2.0..5
a7sot.
c.tn•
Toronto V.,10
McNaught . gq,.
Waltonilk e
Blyth ..... , .....au
Auburntam
McGaw
•