The Inola Register. (Inola, Okla.), Vol. 6, No. 50, Ed. 1 Thursday, July 25, 1912 Page: 3 of 8
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Enid Maltland, a frank, free and un-
spoiled young Philadelphia girl, la taken
to the Colorado mountain* by her uncle.
Robert Maftland. James Armstrong.
Maltland's protege, falls In love with her
Ifis persistent wooing thrills the girl, but
she hesitates, and Armstrong goes east
on busings without a definite answer.
Enid hear* the story of a mining engi-
neer, New bold, whose wife fell off a ruff
ami was so seriously hurt that he was
«'ompelled to shoot her to prevent her be-
ing eaten by wolves while he went for
help. Klrkby, the old guide who tells the
story, gives Knld a package of letters
which ne says were found on the dead
woman's body. She reads the letters and
at Klrkby's request keeps them. While
bathing In mountains stream Knld Is at-
tacked by a bear, which Is mysteriously
■hot. A storm adds to the girl's terror.
A sudden deluge transform brook Into
raging torrent, which sweeps Knld into
irorge. where she Is rescued by a moun-
tain to>rmtt after a thrilling experience.
Campers In great confusion upon dlftcov-
Ing Enid's absence when the storm
breaks Maliland and Old Klrkby gu In
Search of the Ctrl.
CHAPTER VIII. (Continued.)
Ever ag they went they railed and
called. The broken obstructions of
the way made their progress slow.
What they would have passed^over
ordinarily In half a day. they had not
traversed by nlghtfull and they had
seen nothing They camped that night
far down the canon and In the morn-
ing, with hearts growing heavier ev-
«ry hour, they resumed their searrh.
About noon of the second day they
came to an Immense log jam where
tbe stream now broadened and made
• sudden turn before It plunged over
s fall of perhaps two hundred feet
into the lnke. It was the end of their
quest. If they did not find her there,
they would never do so. With still
hearts and bated breath they climbed
cut over the log Jam and scrutinized
It A brownish gray patch concealed
beneath the great pines caught their
eyes. They made their way to It.
"It's a b'ar, a big Qrlxzly," exclaim
The huge brute was battered out of
All semblance of life, but that It was
a Grizzly Bear was clearly evident.
Further on the two men caught sight
•uddenly of a dash of blue. Klrkby
stepped over to It, lifted It In his hand
snd silently extended It to Maltland
It was a sweater, a woman's sweater.
They recognlxed It at once. The old
man shook his head. Maltland groan-
"See yere," said Klrkby. pointing to
the ragged and torn garment where
"We must come back with dynamite
to break up this Jam and "
"Yep," nodded the old man, "we'll
do all that, of course, but now, after
we search this Jam o' logs I guess
there's nothln' to do but go back, an'
the quicker we git back to the settle-
ment, tbe quicker we can git back
here. I think we can strike acrost
the mountains an' save a day an' a
half; there's no need of us goln' back
up the canon now. I take It."
"No." answered the other, "the
quicker the belter, as you say. and
we can head off George and tbe oth-
ers that way."
They searched the pile eagerly, pry-
ing under It, peering into It, upsetting
It, so far as they could with their
naked hands, but with little result, fo^
they found nothing else. They had to
camp another day. and next morning
they hurried straight over the moun-
tains. reaching the settlement almost
as soon as the others Maltland with
furious energy at once organized a re-
lief party. They hurried back to the
logs, tore the Jam to pieces, searched
It carefully and found nothing To
drag the lake was Impossible It was
hundreds of feet deep and while they
worked It froze The weather had
changed some days before, heavy
snows hsd already fallen; they had to
get out of the mountains without
further delay or else be frozen up to
die. Then and not till then did Malt-
land give up hope He had refrained
from wiring to I'hlladelphia. but when
he reached a telegraph line some ten
days after the cloudburst, he sent a
long message east, breaking to his
brother the awful tidings
And In all that they did he and
Klrkby, two of the shrewdest and
most experienced of men. showed
with singular exactitude how easy It
Is for tbe wisest and most capable
of men to make mistakes, to leave the
plain trail, to fall to deduce the truth
from the facts presented. Yet It Is
difficult to point to a fault In their
reasoning or to find anything left un
done In the search!
Enid had started down the canon;
near the end of It they had discovered
one of her garments which they could
not conceive any reason for her tak-
ing off. It was near the battered body
of one of the biggest Grizzlies that
either man had ever seen. It had evi-
dence of blood stains upon It; still.
breakfast when the card of Mr. James
Armstrong of Colorado was handed to
"This. I suppose." he thought test-
cheeks redder than ever. The two
men confronted each other unflinch-
ingly for a moment, then Mr. Maltland
touched a bell button in the wall by
Hy. "Is one of the results of Enid's his side. Instantly the footman made
wanderings Into that God-forsaken [ his appearance.
land. Did you ask the man his busl- "James." said the old man. his voice
Hess. James?" he said aloud to the shaking and his knees trembling with
footman. j passion, w-hich he did not quite sue-
des, sir. He said he wanted to see ceed tn controlling, despite a desper-
,vou on Important business, and when
1 made bold to ask him what busi-
ness. be said It was none of mine, and
for me to take the message to you.
"Impudent." growled Mr. Maltland.
"Yes, sir, but be is the kind of a
gentleman you don't talk back to, air."
"Well, you go back and tell him
that you have given me his card, and
1 should like to know what be wishes
to see me about, that I am very busy
this morning and unlets It is a mat-
ter of Importance—you understand?"
"I suppose now I shall have the
whole west unloaded upon me; e\ ary
vagabond friend of Hobert's and peo-
ple who meet Enid." he thought, but
his reveries were shortly Interrupted
by the return of the man.
"If you please, sir," began James
hesitatingly, as he re-entered tbe
room, "he says bis business Is about
the young lady, sir."
"Confound his Impudence!" ex-
claimed Mr. Maltland. more and more
annoyed at what be was pleased to
characterize mentally as western as-
surance. "Where is he?"
"In the hall, sir."
"Show him Into the library and say
I shall be down in a moment."
"Very good, sir "
It was a decidedly wrathful Individ-
ual who confronted Stephen Maltland
a few moments afterward In the li-
brary, for Armstrong was not accus-
tomed to such cavalier treatment, and
had Maltland been other than Enid's
lather he would have given more out-
ward expression at bis indignation
over tbe discourtesy In his reception.
"Mr. James Armstrong. I believe."
began Mr. Maltland, looking at tbe
card in his hand.
"And proud of It."
"Ah, I dare say. 1 believe you wish
ed to see me about—"
"Your daughter, sir."
"And in what way are you concern-
ed about her, sir?"
"I wish to make her my wife."
"Great God'" exclaimed the older
man in a voice equally divided be-
tween horror and astonishment
How dare you. sir? You amaze me
beyond i easure with your Infernal
"Excuse me. Mr Maltland," Inter-
posed Armstrong quickly and with
great spirit and determlnstion. "but
where I come from we don't allow
anybody to talk to us In this way
Vou are Enid's father and a much old-
er man than I. but I can't permit you
"Sir," said astounded Maltland,
drawing himself up at this bold flout-
ing. "you may be a very worthy young
man. I have no doubt of It, but it is
out of the question My daughter—"
Again a less excited hearer might
have noticed the emphasis In the pro-
"Why. she Is halfway engaged to
me now." Interrupted the younger
man with a certain contemptuous
amusement in his voice "Look here,
Mr Maltland, I've knocked around this
world a good deal I know what's
ate effort. "Show this—er—gentle-
man the door. Good morning, sir; our
first and last Interview is over "
He bowed with ceremonious polite-
ness as he spoke, becoming more end
more composed as he felt himself
mastering the situation. And Arm-
strong. to do him Justice, knew a gen-
tleman when he saw him, and secretly
admired the older man and began to
feel a touch of shame at bis own rude
way of putting things.
"P.eg pardon, sir," said the footman,
breaking the awkward silence, "but
here is a telegram thnt has Just come,
There was nothing for Armstrong to
do or say. Indeed, having expressed
himself so unrestrainedly to his rapid
ly-increaslng regret, as the old man
took the telegram he turned away In
considerable discomfiture. James bow-
ing before him at the door opening
Into tbe hall and following him as be
slowly passed out. Mr Stephen Malt-
land mechanically and with great de-
liberation and with no premonition of
evil tidings, tore open the yellow en-
velope and glanced at the dispatch.
Neither visitor nor the footman
had got out of sight or hearing when
they heard the old man groan and
fall back helplessly Into a chair Both
men turned and ran back to the door,
for there was that In the exclamation
which gave rise to Instant apprehen-
sion. Stephen Maltland now, as white
as death, sat collapsed in the chair
gasping for breath, his hand on his
heart; the telegram lay open on the
floor. Armstrong recognized the se-
riousness of the situation, and in
three steps was. by the other's side.
"What Is It?" he asked eagerly, his
hatred and resentment vanishing at
the sight of the old man's ghastly,
"Enid!" gasped her father. "I said
I would rather see her—dead, but—it
Is not true—I—
James Armstrong was a man of
prompt decision, without a moment'*
hesitation he picked up the telegram;
it was full of expllrlty, thus It read:
"We were encamped last week In
the mountains. Enid went down the
canon for a day's fishing alone. A sud-
den cloudburst filled the canon, wash-
ed away the camp Enid undoub'ed-
ly got caught In the torrent and was
drowned We have found some of her
clothing, but not her body Have
searched every foot of the canon.
Think body has got Into the lake, now
frozen, snow falling, mountains im-
passable: will search for her in the
spring when the winter breaks. I am
following this telegram in person by
the first train. Would rather have
died a thousand deaths than had this
happen God help us.
Armstrong read It, stared at It s
moment, frowning heavily, passed It
over to the footman and turned to ibe
"Old man. I loved her," he said,
simply "I love her still; I believe
that she loves me They haven't
found her body, clothes mean noth-
ing. I'll find her, I'll search the moun-
tains until I do Don't give way;
something tells me that she's alive.
the bear as he splashed through the
creek and tramped across tbe rocks
and trees down the canon, at least
she had not seen him full face, but
she recognized him immediately. The
thought tinged with color for a mo-
ment her pallid cheek.
"I fell into the- torrent," she said
feebly, putting her hand to her bead
and striving by speech to put aside
that awful remembrance.
"You didn't fall in," was the an-
swer, "It was a cloudburst, you were
caught in It."
"I didn't know."
"Of course not. how should you?"
"And tow came I here?"
had not weakened. Now his coming
desire was to get this woman whom
fortune—good or 111!—had thrown
upon bis hands to his house without
delay. There was nothing he could
do for her out there in the rata.
Every drop of whiskey was gone, they
were Just two half-drowned, sodden
bits of humanity cast up on that
rocky shore, and one was a helpless
"Do you know where your camp
Is*" he asked at last
He did not wish to take ber to bar
own camp, be had • strange Instinct
of possession In her. In some way he
Yelt he bad obtained n right to deal
-What Is Itr* He Asked Eagerly.
"I was lucky enough to pull you I with ber as be would, be had saved
out." her life twice, once by chance. the
"Did you Jump Into the flood for other as the result of deliberate and
me?" heroic endeavor, and yet his honor
The man nodded and his manhood obliged htm to offer
' That's twice you have saved my ' to take her to her own people If h*
life this day," said the girl, forcing could. Hence tbe question, the an-
herself, womanlike, to tbe topic that swer to which be waited so eagerly,
she hated. j "It's down the canon. I am one of
"It's nothing," deprecated the oth- Robert Maltland's party"
The man nodded, he didn't know
Robert Maltland from Adam, and bs
cared nothing about him.
"How far down?" be asked.
"I don't know, how far Is It from
here to where you—where—where—
what. I know all about you eastern I an<1 ' " fln<1 her."
people and I don't fancy you any . "If >"ol> do." said the broken old
more than you fan. .. us Miss Enid is ! crushed by the swif' and awful
quite unspoiled yet and that Is why I response to his thoughtless exciama-
want ber I'm well able to take care tion, "and she loves you, you shall
of her. too; 1 don't know what you've have her for your wi'e"
got or how you got It. but I can come ! "" doesn't need that to make me
near laying down dollar for dollar "n'l her." answered Armstrong grim
evidences of discoloration still re
malned. "looks like there'd bin blood
on It." •
"Great Ood!" cried Maltland, "not
that bear; I'd rather anything than
"Wstevsr It Is, she's gone." said
the old man with solemn finality.
"Hsr body msy be In Ihose logs
"Or In the Ink*." answered Klrkby.
gloomily, "but w'srs ever she la we
•H'l git to bar sow.'V
It Was a Woman's Swsatsr.
they hBd found no body, but they
were as profoundly sure that the man
gled remains of the poor girl lay with-
in the depths of that mountain Iske
as If they had actually set n her there
The logic was all flawless
It so happened that on that Novem
ber morning, when the telegram was
approaching him. Mr. Stephen Malt
land had a caller. He came at an un-
usually early hour Mr Stephen
Maltland. who was no longer an esrly
rise*, had Indeed Just fluiafcsd his
with you. and mine's all clean money
—mines, cattle, lumber—and It's all
good money. I made It myself I left
her two weeks ago with her promise
that she would think very seriously
of my suit. After I came back to Den-
ver—I was cnlled east—I made up my
mind that I'd come here when I'd fin
Ishcd my business and have It out
with you Now you can treat me like
a dog if you want to, but If you expect
to keep peace fn the family you'd bet-
ter not. for I tell you plainly, whether
you give your consent or not, I mean
to win her All I want Is her consent.
and I've pretty nearly got that "
Mr. Stephen Maltland was black
with anger at this clear, unequivocal.
determined statement of the case
from Armstrong's point of view
"I would rather see her dead." ha
exclaimed with angry stubbornness.
"than married to n man like you
How dare you force yourself Into my I of action, as she lifted herself on her
ly. "she Is a woman, lost In the moun
tains In the winter, alone TI ey
shouldn't have given up the search
IH find her ss there Is a Ood above
me whether she's for me or not."
A good deal of a man. this James
Armstrong of Colorado, In spire of
niany things In his past of which he
thought so little that he lacked the
grnce to be ashamed of them Stephen
Maltland looked at him with a cer-
tain respect and a growing hope, a*
he stood there In the library, stern. I
"Ove the Hills snd fmr Away." I
Recognition—or some other more
potent Instantaneous force—brought
the woman to a sitting position The
man drew back to give her freedom
house and Insult me In this way?
Were I not an old man I would show
you. I would glvs you a taste of your
The old man's white nivstnche fair-
ly quivered with what he believed to
be righteous Indignation He stepped
over to the other snd looked hard st
him. his ayes bias lag. his ruddy
hsnds !t was moments before com
plete consciousness of her situation
csiae to her The surprise was yet
too great, she saw things dimly
through a whirl of driving rain, of a
rushing mighty wind, of a seething
sea of water, but preaently It was all
plain to her again. She had caught
fail view of Lhe ma who had shot
"It may be nothing to you. but It Is
a great deal to me." was the answer
"And now what is to be done?"
"We must get out of here at once."
said the man "You need shelter,
food, a flre. Can you walk?"
"I don't know."
"Let me help you " He rose to
his feet, reached down to her. took
her hands in the strong grasp sf his
own and raised her lightly to her feet
In an effortless way which showed his
great streng'h She did not more
than put the weight of her body
slightly on her left foot when a spasm
of pain shot through her. she swerved
and would have fallen had he ! ♦ •
cai:ght her He sat her gently on the
"My foot." she said plteousiy • I
don't know what's the matter with It."
Her high boots were tightly la'-ed.
of course, hut he could see that ber
left toot had been badly mauled or
sprained: already tbe slender ankle
was swelling visibly. He examined It
swiftly a moment. It might be a
sprain. It might be the result of some
violent thrust against the rocls, some
whirling tree trunks might have
caught and crushed her foot, but
there was no good In speculating as
to causes, the present patent fact was
that she could not walk; all tbe rest
was at 'hat moment unimportant.
This unfortunate accident made him
the more anxious to get her to a
place of shelter without delay. It
would be necessary to take off ber
boot and give the wounded member
proper tre-itineut. For tbe present
the tight shoe acted as a bandage,
which was well.
\\ hen the man had withdrawn him
self from the world, he had Inwardly
resolved that no human being should
ever Invade hl domain or share his
solitude, and during his long sojourn
la Uis tlUinhM his determination
"About a mile," he replied, quickly
fully understanding her reason for
Then I think I must have come at
least five miles from tbe camp this
"It will be four miles away, then."
said the man.
The girl nodded
"1 couldn't carry you that far." he
murmured half to himself; "I question
If there Is any camp left there any-
«y Where was It. down by the wa-
"Every vestige will have been
swept away by that, look st It." b«
pointed over to the lake
"What must we do?" she asked In-
stantly, depending upon his greater
strength, his larger experience, his
"I shall have to tsks you to my
"Is tt fsrr
"About s mile or s mile snd s half
"1 can't walk that fsr."
"No, I suppose not You wouldn't
be willing to stsy here while I went
down snd hunted for your camp?"
The girl clutched st hlin
"1 couldn't be left here for s mo-
ment slone," she said In sudden rever
of alarm. "I never was afraid be-
fore. but now "
"All right," he said, gently patting
her aa he would a child "We'll go
up to my camp and then I will try to
find your people and—"
"But 1 tell you I can't walk."
You don't hsr* to wslk." sstd the
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The Inola Register. (Inola, Okla.), Vol. 6, No. 50, Ed. 1 Thursday, July 25, 1912, newspaper, July 25, 1912; Inola, Oklahoma. (gateway.okhistory.org/ark:/67531/metadc180495/m1/3/: accessed November 15, 2018), The Gateway to Oklahoma History, gateway.okhistory.org; crediting Oklahoma Historical Society.