The Logan County News. (Crescent, Okla.), Vol. 9, No. 48, Ed. 1 Friday, October 11, 1912 Page: 3 of 8
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CWice
Bcin&lfie Story df Certain Persons
Uho Uranlc cfr ti and Conquered ) ,
V T^.orr a ncc>of Coforado
J?y Cyrus Towns end grady
K~\ >Y; Author of "TffrT&H^tfrWan.r
V^> 41VA ""TKCIsW ef K^.rnm^on,
^ ' "Tfjc Better Mon.'1kart« «nd
tf>c H tfhw«y,' * ^3 <hc 6pnrV
Ffy Upwft <?.d, a * J* •
niu*tr«tfo i t.y er,su'°j:th Voun§
—.yv. v * fcy V q.c^ pm«r.
W/
SYNOPSIS.
Enid Maitland, a frank, fre* an-1 un-
lpolled younK Phalladelphl* girl. Is taken
to the Colorado mountains by her uncle.
Hubert Maitland. James Armstrong,
^ialtland's protege, fulls In love with her
siis persistent wooing thrills tha ftrl. ®uj
• he Hesitates. and ArmstrotiR goes east
on business without a definite answer,
klnld hears the story of a mining enji "
titer, Newbold. whose wife fell off a cliff
and was so seriously hurt that lie was
compelled to shoot her to prevent her be-
ln* . aten by wolves while he went for
help. Kirkby, the old guide who tells the
•tory. gives Enid a package of le,.ter5
which Tie says were found on the oeaa
woman's body. She reads the liters arm
at Kirkbv's request keeps them. >> niie
bathing In mountain stream Knld is at-
tacked by a bear, which is mysteriously
•hot A storm adds to the girls terror
A sudden deluge transforms brook Into
raging torrent, which sweeps hnld into
gorge, where she Is rescued by a moun-
tain hermit after a thrilling expern
Campers In great confusion upon tliscov-
tng FOnld's absence when the storm
breaks. Maitland and Old Kirkby g" in
search of the «lrl. Enid discovers that
her ankle Is sprained and that she Is on-
able to walk. Her mysterious rescuer
carries her to his camp Knld go *s 10
sleep In the strange man's bunk.
cooks breakfast for Enid, after wni<-n
they go on tour of Inspection. The ner-
mlt tells Knld of his unsuccessful a,,!'mP*
to find the Maitland campers 1 •; ttd,"V9
that he Is also from Philadelphia. I be
hermit falls In love with Enid lhe in.m
comes to a realization of his love f >r n r.
but naturally in that strange solitude wie
relations of the girl and her rescuer n -
come unnatural and strained '! e strain,-
«r tells of a wife he had who ls ' •
and says lie has sworn to ever cheibii
her memory by living In solitude '" u'1''
Enid, however, confess their love tor
each other. She b arns that he Is the
man who killed his wife In the mountain.
Enid discovers the writer of the letters
to Newhold's wife to have been James
Armstrong Newbold decides t.> start to
the settlement for help. lhe inan >s
rack -d |,v the belief that he Is unfaithful
to his wife's memory, and Enid Is tempt-
ed to tell him of the letters In her pos-
session. Armstrong. nccompumeu ny
Klrkbv and Robert Maitland. find a note
that Newbold lia.l left In th« *
cabin, am! know that the «irl Is In his
keeping. Fate brings all the actors to-
gether.
CHAPTER XX.
The Converging Trails.
Whatever the feeling of the others.
Armstrong found himself unable to
sleep that night. It seemed to him
that fate was about to play him the
meanest and most fantastic of tricks.
Many times before In his crowded life
he had loved other women, or so lie
characterized his feelings, but his pas-
sion for I^oulse RosBer Newbold had
been In a class by itself until he had
wet Enid Maitland. Between the two
there had been many women, but these
two were the high points, the rest was
lowland.
Once before, therefore, this Newbold
had cut in ahead of him and had won
thtf woman he loved. Armstrong had
cherished a hard grudge against him
for a long time. He had not been of
those who had formed the rescue
party led by old Kirkby and Maitland
which had buried the poor woman on
the great butte In the deep canon
Before he got back to the camp the
•whole affair was over and Newbold
had departed. Luckily for him, Arm-
strong had always thought, for he
had been so mad with grief and rage
ami Jealousy that if he had come
across him, helpless or not, he would
have killed him out of hand.
Armstrong had soon enough forgot-
ten Louise Rosser, but he had not
forgotten Newbold. All his ancient an-
imosity had flamed into instant life
again, at the sight of his name last
night. The inveteracy of his hatred had
been in no way abated by the lapse
of time, it seemed.
Everybody in the mining camp had
supposed that Newbold had wandered
off and perished in the mountains, else
Armstrong might have pursued him
and hunted him down. The sight of
his name on that piece of paper was
outward and visible evidence that he
etill lived. It had almost he shock
of a resurrection, and a resurrection
to hatred rather than to love. If
Newbold had been alone in the world.
If Armstrong had chanced upon him in
the solitude, he would have hated him
just as he did, but when he thought
that his ancient enemy was with the
•woman he now loved, with a growing
intensity beside which his former re-
butment seemed weak and feeble he
bated him yet the more.
He could not tell when the notice,
which he had examined carefully, wai
written; there was no date upon it,
that the woman he love.d was alive and
well, or had been when the note was
written. He rejoiced that she had not
been swept away with the flood or that
she had not been lost in the mountains
and forced to wander on finally to
starve and freeze and die. In one mo
ment her nearness caused his heart to
throb with joyful anticipation. The
certainty that at the first flush of day
he should seek her again sent the
warm blood to his cheeks. But those
thoughts would be succeeded by the
knowledge that she was with his en- j
emy. Was this man to rob him of the
latest love as he had robbed him of
the first? Perhaps the hardest task
that was ever laid upon Armstrong
was to lie quietly in his sleeping bag
and wait until the morning
So soon as the first indication of
dawn showed over the crack of the
door, he slipped quietly out of his
sleeping bag and without disturbing
the others drew on his boots, put on
his heavy fur coat and cap and gloves,
slung his Winchester and his snow-
shoes over his shoulder, and without
stopping for a bite to eat, softly open-
ed the door, stepped out and closed it
after him. It was quite dark in the
bottom of the canon, although a few
pale gleams overhead indicated the
near approach of day. It was quite
still, too. There were clouds on the
mountain top heavy with threat of
wind and snow.
The way was not difficult, the direc-
tion of it, that is. Nor was the going
very difficult at first; the snow was
frozen and the crust was strong enough
to bear him. He did not need his
snow shoes, and, indeed, would have
had little chance to use them in the
narrow, broken, rocky pass. He had
slipped away from the others because
he wanted to be first to see the man
and the woman. He did not want any
witnesses to that meeting. They
would have come on later, of course;
but he wanted an hour or two in pri-
vate with Enid and Newbold without
any interruption. His conscience was
not clear. Nor could he settle upon a
course of action.
How much Newbold knew of his
former attempt to win away his wife,
how much of what he knew he had
told Enid Maitland. Armstrong could
not surmise. Putting himself into
Newbold's place and imagining that
the engineer had possessed entire in-
formation, he decided that he must
have told everything to Enid Mait-
land as soon as he had found out the
quasi relation between her and Arm-
strong And Armstrong did not believe
the woman he loved could be in any-
body's presence a month without tell-
ing something about him. Still, it was
possible that Newbold knew nothing,
and that he told nothing therefore.
The situation was paralyzing to a
man of Armstrong's decided, determin-
ed temperament. He could not decide
upon the line of conduct he should
pursue. His course in this, the most
critical emergency he had ever faced,
must be determined by circumstances
of which he felt with savage resent-
ment he was in some measure the
sport. He would have to leave to
chance what ought to be subject to his
will. Of only one thing he was sure—
he would stop at nothing, murder, ly-
ing; nothing, to win the woman, and
to settle his score with that man.
There was really only one thing he
could do, and that was to press on
up the canon. He had no idea how
far it might be or how long a journey
he would have to make before he
reached that shelf on the high hill
where stood that, hut in which she
dwelt. As the crow flies, It could not
be a great distance, but the canon
| zigzagged through the mountains with
as many curves and angles as a light-
ning flash. He plodded on, therefore,
with furious haste, recklessly speed-
ing over places where a misstep in
the snow or a slip on the icy rocks
would have meant death or disaster to
him.
ilvJPs5U ©
IB V "
vain attempt again
woman who was now the deciding and ,
det< rniining factor, and who seemed to
be taking the man's place. Newbold, j
ready for his journey, had torn him-
self away from her presence and had ,
plunged down the giant stair. He had
done everything that mortal man could .
do for her comfort; wood enough to |
last her for two weeks had been taken
from the cave and piled In the kitch-
en and everywhere so as to be easily
accessible to her; the stores she al
ready had the run of, and he had ttt
ted a stout bar to the outer door
ch would render It Impregnable to
any attack that might be made against
It, although he saw no quarter from
which any assault impended
Enid had recovered not only her
strength, but a good deal of her nerve.
That she loved this man and that he
loved her had given her courage She
would be fearfully lonely, of course,
but not so much afraid as before. The
month of immunity in the mountains
without any interruptions had dissi-
pated any possible apprehensions on
her part. It was with a sinking heart,
however, that she saw him
last.
They had been so much together
in that month; they had learned what
love was. When he came back it
would be different, he would not come
alone. The first human being he met
would bring the world to the door of
the lonely but beloved cabin in the
mountains—the world with its ques-
tions, its Inference. Its suspicious, Its
denunciations and its accusatUmjJ
Some kind of an explanation wcmid
have to be made, some sort an an-
swer would have to be given, some so-
lution of the problem would have to
be arrived at. What these would be
she could not tell.
Newbold's departure was like the
edU ot an era to her. The curtain
dropped; when it rose again what was
to be expected? There was no com-
fort except in the thought that she
loved him. So long as their affections
matched and ran together nothing
else mattered. With the solution of it
all next to her sadly beating heart she
was still supremely confident that
love, or Clod—and there was not so
much difference between them as to
powerful passions which move human- i lie stoppeii, panting, exhausted, and ; make It worth while to mention the
ity were at his service; love led hlin j leaned against the rocky wall of the one rather than the other—would Hnd
and hate drove him. And the two 1 canon's mouth which here rose sheer j the way.
were so intermingled that It was dif j over his head. This certainly was the i Their leave taking had been singu-
ficult to say which predominated, now end of the trail, the lake was the I larly cold and abrupt She had real-
one and now the other. The resultant ' source of the frozen rivulet along j |Ze(i the danger he was apt to incur
of the two forces, however, was an whose rocky and torn banks he had aIU] Kile had exacted a reluctant prom-
onward move that' would not be de tramped since dawn. Here, If any- |se from him that he would be careful,
xiied. j where, lie would lind the object of his | "Don't throw your life away, don't
His fur coat was soon covered with J quest.
snow and ice, ihe sharp needles of the j Refreshed by a brief pause, and
storm cut his fitt'e wherever it was ex encouraged by the sudden stilling of
posed. The wind forced Its way j the storm, he stepped out of the canon
through his garments and chilled him j and ascended a little knoll whence he
to the bone. He had eaten nothing ! had a full view of the pocket over the
since the night before, and his vital- tops of the pines Shading bis eyes
ity was not at its flood, but he pressed j from the light w ith his hand as best he
and there was something grand c ould, he slowly swept the circumfer-
He Scrambled Up the
Broken
to influence the | it up in half that time, hut even so
they would probably suffer not too
great discomfort before he got back.
All these preparations took some lit-
tle time It had grown somewhat late
In the morning before he started.
There had been a fierce storm raging
when he first looked out and at her
earnest solicitation he had delayed his
departure until it had subsided.
His tasks at the corral were at last
completed ; he had done what he could
for them both, nothing now remained
but to make the quickest and safest
way to the settlement Shouldering
the pack containing his axe and gun
and sleeping bag and such provision,
as would serve to tide him over un-
til he reached human habitations, he
set forth. He did not look up to the
hut Indeed he could not have seen it
for the corral was almost directly be-
neath It, but If It had been In full view
he would not have looked back, he
could not trust himself to, every in-
stinct. every impulse In his soul would
lain drag him back to that hut and to
: the woman It was only his will and,
j did he but know it. her will that made
at ! him carry out his purpose.
ence with his eager glance, seeing
nothing until his eye fell upon a huge
broken trail of rocks projecting from
the snow, indicating the ascent to a
broad shelf of the mountains across
the lake to the right. Following this
he saw a huge block of snow which
suggested dimly the outlines of a
hut!
Was that the place? Was she there?
He stared fascinated and as h.e did so
a thin curl of smoke rose above the
on,
in his indomitable progress. Excel-
sior!
Back in the hut Kirkby and Maitland
sat around the fire waiting most impa-
tiently for the wind to blow itself out
and for that snow to stop falling
through which Armstrong struggled
forward. As he followed the windings
of the canon, not daring to ascend to
the summit on either wall and seek
short cuts across the range, he was
sensible that he was constantly rising.
There were many indications to his I snow heap and wavered up in the cold,
experienced mind; the decrease in the j quiet air! That was a human habita-
height of the surrounding pines, the ; tion, then. It could be none other |
increasing rarity of the icy air, the j than the hut referred to in the note |
growing difficulty in breathing under Knld Maitland must be there; and 1
the sustained exertion he was making. Newbold!
the quick throbbing of his accelerated The lake lay directly in front of him
heart, all told him he was approaching i beyond the trees at the foot of the
his journey's end. I knoll, and between him and the slope
He judged that he must now be j that led up to the hut. If It had been
drawing near the source of the stream, , summer, he would have been compell-
' and that he would presently come ed to follow the waters edge to the
upon the shelter. He had no means of ! right or to the left; both journeys
ascertaining the time. He would not would have led over difficult trails,
have dared to unbutton his coat to | with little to choose between them.
but the lake was now frozen hard and
glance at his watch, and it is difficult
He had gone about an hour, and had ! to measure the flying minutes In such covered with snow. He had no doubt
perhaps made four miies from the scenes as those through which he pass- that the snow would bear him, but to
camp when the storm burst upon him. ed. but he thought he must have gone make sure he drew his snow shoes
It was now broad day, but the sky was at least seven miles in perhaps three from his shoulder, slipped his feet In
h..t ha rnnld come to only one Snclu- i fllled with 01011,18 an<1 the alr wltl hours, which he fancied had elapsed.
.ion' Newbold must have found Knld driving snow. The wind whistled down j his progress In the last_ two haying
risk It even, remember that it Is
mine," she had urged.
And Just as simply as she had en-
joined it upon him he had promised.
He had given his word that he would
not send help back to her but that he
would bring it back, and she had con-
fidence in that word. A confidence
that had he been inclined to break his
promise would have made it absolute
ly impossible. There had been a long
clasp of the hands, a long look in the
eyes, a long breath in the breast, a
long throb in the heart and then—
farewell They dared no more
Once before he had left her and she
had stood upon the plateau and fol-
lowed his vanishing figure with anxi-
ous troubled thought until it had been
lost in the depths of the forest below.
She had controlled herself In this
second parting for his sake as well as
her own. Under the ashes of hi
grim repression she realized the pres-
ence of live coals which a breath would
have fanned into flame She dared
nothing while he was there, but when
he shut the door behind him the ne-
cessity for self-control was removed.
She had laid her arms on the table
and bowed h ?r head upon them and
shook and quivered with emotions un-
relieved by a single tear—weeping
was lor lighter hearts and less severe j
.demands!
His position after all was the easier j
of the two. As of old it was the man ,
who went forth to the battlefield while
the woman could only wait passively ;
the issue of the flght. Although he ;
was half blinded with emotions he had I
He would have saved perhaps half
a mile on his journey if he hnd gone
straight across the la 1:e to the mouth
of the canon. We are creatures of
habit lie had always gone around
the lake on the familiar trail and un-
consciously he followed that trail that
morning, lie was thinking of her as
he plodded on In a mechanical way
while the trail followed the border of
the lake for a time, plunged Into the
woods, wound among the pines, at least
reaching that narrow rift in the en-
circling wall through which the river
flowed. He had passed along the trail
oblivious to all his surroundings, but
as he came to the entrance he could
not fall to notice what he suddenly
saw In the snow.
Robinson Crusoe when he cAscov-
ered the famous footprint of Man Fri-
day in the sand was not more aston-
ished at what met his vision than
Newbold on that winter morning. For
there, In the virgin whiteness, were
the tracks of a man!
He stopped dead with a sudden con-
traction of the heart. Humanity oth-
er than he and she in that wilderness?
It could not be! For a moment he
doubted the evidence of his own sen-
ses He shook his pack loose from his
shoulders and bent down to examine
the tracks to read if he could their
indications. He could see that some
one had come up the canon, that some-
one had leaned against the wall, that
some one had gone on. Where had
he gone?
To follow the new trail was child's
play for him. He ran by the side of
it until he reached the knoll. The
stranger had stopped again, he had
shifted from one foot to another, evi-
dently he had been looking about him
seeking some one, only Enid Mait-
land of course. The trail ran forward
to the edge of the frozen lake, there
the man had put on his snow shoes,
there he had sped across the lake like
an arrow, and like an arrow himself
although he had left behind his own
snow shoes, Newbold ran upon his
track. Fortunately the snow crust up-
bore him. The trail ran straight to
the foot of the rocky stairs. The new-
comer had easily found his way there.
With beating heart and throbbing
pulse, Newbold himself bounded up
the acclivity after the stranger, mark-
ing as he did so evidences of the oth«
era prior ascent. Reaching the top
like him he ran down the narrow path
and in his turn laid his hand upon the
door.
He was not mistaken, he heard
voices within. He listened a second
and then flung it open, and as the oth-
er had done, he entered.
Way back on the trail, old Kirkby
and Robert Maitland, the storm having
ceased, were rapidly climbing up the
canon. Fate was bringing all the ac-
tors of the little drama within the
shadow of her hand.
(to bp: continued.)
Maitland alone in the mountains very
| the canon with terrific force. It was with
shortly after her departure, and he j difficulty that he made any headway at
had her with him in his cabin alone."" against It It was a local storm;
! If he could have looked through the
ness on the top of the peaks. It was
for at least a month. Armstrong .
gritted his teeth at the thought He I snow he would have discovered calm-
** I M —• a tnr* n r tha nool/j If Urn n
did not undervalue the personality of
Newbold. He had never happened to
see him, but he had heard enough
about him to understand his quail-
been frightfully slow. Every foot of
advance he had had to fight for.
Suddenly a quiak turn in the canon,
a passage through a narrow entrance
between lofty cliffs, anil he found him-
self In a pocket or a circular amphl-
| one of those sudden squalls of wind j theater which he could see was closed
| and snow which rage with terrific on the farther side. The bottom of this
lorce while they last, but whose rage j enclosure or valley was covered with
the straps, and sped straight .. ., , , .
, . ' , to e ve some thought to his progress
through the trees and across it like an i _ ....
arrow trom a bow.
In five minutes he was at the foot
of the giant stairs. Kicking off his
snow shoes, he scrambled up the
broken-way, easily finding in the snow
Just a Man!
In the long line of cabs and automo-
biles in front of a big New York hotel
was one car around which a few Idlers
had gathered. Something was wrong.
Prone upon the ground lay an animal
of some kind. A dear old lady hap-
pened along. She saw the little knot
ties as a man. The tie that bound
Aruistrong to Enid Maitland was a
strong one, but the tie by which he
held -her to him, If indeed he held her
at all, was very tenuous and easily
broken; perhaps It was broken al-
ready, and bo he hated him still more
and iuore.
pines, now drooping under tremendous
burdens of snow. In the midst of the
pines a lakelet was frozen solid; the
ice was covered with the same daz-
zling carpet of white.
He could have seen nothing of thin
there was 110 storm I had not the sudden storm now stopped
could stop this man ! as precipitately almost as it had be-
was limited, and whose violent dura- S
tion would be short.
A less determined man than he 1
would have bowed to the inevitable I
and sought some shelter behind a j
rock until the fury of the tempest I
was spent, but
that bisw that
and there was yet one task to be done
before he could set forth upon his
Journey toward civilization and res-
cue.
It was fortunate, as It turned out,
trail which had evidently been \ tbat thls ol)"8atlon detained him. He J of people and put up her glasses to
passed and repassed daily. In a few %vali ttiat °r a merciful man whose j observe the cause, Then she saw the
moments he was at the top of the mercies extended to his beasts. The ] i>rown fur of the thing on the icy as-
shelf. a hard trampled path ran be- poor little burros must be attended to I |,halt.
high walls of snow to a an,l their safety assured so far as it "l'oor creature, poor creature!" said
. could be, for It would be impossible J sjie aloud in her compassion. "Is Its
what would he f,,r Enid Maitland to care ior them. , ieg broken?" She pushed close to
he brought to ' Indeed lie had already exacted a prom- 1 (|ie prostrate figure la the brown fur.
lse from her that she would not 1 it moved The deftr old lady took a
lYi'loT liii animosltv was so great i so long as he had strength to drive 1 gun. Indeed, accustomed to the gray-
lndeed, his animosity was so great | ^ *11. So he bent his head to the ness «f the snow fall, hi. eyes were
and growing that for the moment he
^ gafety' yethe together I was "so^ethlngmanic "and magnificent j the sun. now quite high over
an unfair man, and la calmer moments j about this iron determination and per- j range, which sti
fee thanked God in his own rough way i aistence of Armstrong, lhe two moat , ••
tween
door!
Behind that door
find? Just what
it, love and hate, he fancied. We
usually find on the other Bide of
doors no more and no less than
we bring to our own sides. But what-
ever was there there was no hesita-
tion In Armstong's course. He ran
V'\r~ i h|as. and struggled on There I falrl) dazzled by the bright light of 1 toward it, laid Ills hand on the latch,
in the assurance of the | fleice blast and struggieu on. Miere j ia_r , ^ nn„ h1gl) over the and opened it.
him lull In the What creatures of habit we are!
I Early In that same morning, after one
leave the plateau and risk her life on
the icy stairs with which she was so
unfamiliar.
He had gone to the corral and shak-
en down food enough for them which
If It had been doled out to tliera day
by day would have lasted longer than
the week he intended to be absent; of
course he realized that they would eat
closer look. Then she made a sound
approximating a ladylike snort. It
was the chauffeur of one of the taxi-
cabs, clad In his brown fuzzy coat. In
the usual attitude of flatness, tinker-
ing the under part of his machine with
a monkey wrench.
The dear old lady, all her sympathy
curdled, hurried 00.
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Wnorowski, B. F. The Logan County News. (Crescent, Okla.), Vol. 9, No. 48, Ed. 1 Friday, October 11, 1912, newspaper, October 11, 1912; Crescent, Oklahoma. (https://gateway.okhistory.org/ark:/67531/metadc235150/m1/3/: accessed April 25, 2024), The Gateway to Oklahoma History, https://gateway.okhistory.org; crediting Oklahoma Historical Society.