^ .AND 
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FRED LOCKLEY 
 
 RARE WESTERN BOOKS 
 
 4227 S. E. Stark St. 
 PORTLAND. ORE. 
 
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THE LAND CLAIMERS 
 
" Hal still stood staring at the photograph, his face tense 
 
 and white." Frontispiece. See p. 239 
 
THE 
 
 LAND CLAIMERS 
 
 BY 
 
 JOHN FLEMING WILSON 
 
 WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY 
 ARTHUR E. BECHER 
 
 BOSTON 
 
 LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY 
 
 1911 
 
Copyright^ 1911^ 
 By Little, Brown, and Company. 
 
 AU rights reserved 
 Published April, 1911 
 
 • ••'•• • 
 
 • • •« • • • 
 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY PRESS, CAMBRIDGE, U.S. A. 
 
 
To 
 
 United States Senatoe 
 
 GEORGE E. CHAMBERLAIN 
 
 OF OREGON 
 
 ivil4S886 
 
Foreword: To My Wife 
 
 WE TE emerged from the old Ellsworth Trail upon 
 the windy uplands of the Coast for the last time. 
 The forest has closed over the life that we used to know 
 along the Siletz, and our friends have all " packed out." 
 But from the Atlantic to the Pacific the Land Claimers 
 — scattered for ever — remember the days when the pack 
 trains made the trail from the Agency to Otter Rock, 
 when the settler's ax echoed down the canyons. Now the 
 forest ranger, from the high ridges, looks down on deserted 
 cabins and shrinking clearings, and knows each place by 
 its old name, but does not know, nor care, where the settler 
 has gone. So I have brought some of us back, once more, 
 in this book, to live over again for a little the life we 
 knew along the Siletz River. 
 
 San Francisco, July 1, 1910. 
 
List of Illustrations 
 
 " Hal still stood staring at the photograph, his face 
 
 tense and white " Frontispiece 
 
 " A moment later he was shaking Sally warmly by 
 
 the hand " Page 90 
 
 " ' You *re Mr. Spencer's sister, are n't you ? ' Sally 
 
 said" "189 
 
 " As he wrote in his name and the date, Spencer 
 
 stood over him, breathing heavily " . . . . "274 
 
The Land Claimers 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 TWO men, heavily laden, emerged from the dense 
 timber along the creek bottom of a tributary of 
 the Siletz River, scrambled up a declivity studded with 
 half-burnt stumps, and came to a halt before a small 
 cabin built of shakes. The taller and elder of the two 
 twisted his pack from his shoulders and let it fall. He 
 took off his felt hat to wipe his forehead. 
 
 "This is your claim," he announced curtly. 
 
 His companion awkwardly disengaged himself from a 
 knapsack, a roll of blankets, and a small sack of flour. 
 Then he stretched his arms with a quick, springy move- 
 ment that caught the quizzical eye of his guide. 
 
 "It isn't much fun packing along that trail," the 
 elder man admitted. "But you see IVe got every- 
 thing fixed up pretty nice for you. This is one of the 
 best timbered claims in the whole Siletz, and I tell 
 you right now, you're in luck." 
 
 The younger man's dark eyes scanned the ragged clear- 
 ing, the flimsy cabin, and came back to rest on his guide. 
 
1 . ...... T.ftE-LAND CLAIMERS 
 
 ''I* guess you know more about it than I do," he said 
 quietly. "Anyways, I pays my money. I ain't much on 
 these trails. Sidewalk with a bar on the corner is more 
 my style. But I ain't no quitter." Under the faintly 
 amused gaze of the other he pulled out a stained wallet 
 and proceeded to count down upon a convenient stump 
 a number of bills. "There's my eight hundred bucks," 
 he said. "Five hundred for Old Man Peterson's relin- 
 quishment and three hundred for your fee. Just kindly 
 gimme a paper with your own relink — relinquishment." 
 
 "Here's the bill of sale," was the unsmiling response. 
 "The relinquishment has been made in Portland where 
 you filed. That's all right. You buy the improvements 
 and you're the owner of this claim. All you've got to do 
 is live here for the next fourteen months; then you can 
 commute for a dollar and a quarter an acre and be worth 
 twenty thousand dollars. There's a good twelve million 
 feet of fine timber in this hundred and sixty." 
 
 He drew a signed paper from his pocket, handed it to 
 the younger man and stowed away the bills. 
 
 "We don't often see these greenbacks in Oregon," 
 he remarked. "We use gold, Mr. Spencer." 
 
 "Paper seems to be good," Spencer retorted, in a 
 slightly humorous tone. 
 
 "It is," was the response. "I'll be getting along, Mr. 
 Spencer. You have everything you need? Remember 
 
THE LAND CLAIMERS 3 
 
 the trail? Half a mile due south, quarter of a mile west, 
 and then you strike the main trail to the Reservation, 
 not a hundred yards from McCarthy's. He's your next 
 neighbor. Not much help, I 'm sorry to say. But then, 
 think of the money you'll be worth two years from now." 
 He held out his hand. 
 
 Spencer grasped it heartily. "You done me a good 
 turn," he said warmly. " If Sim Spencer kin ever do you 
 the same, jest call." His weedy figure expanded a little. 
 "I ain't no quitter," he said, with a trace of boastfulness. 
 "Nobody ever said that. Jest call around." 
 
 "Thank you," the locator replied. "Should I ever 
 require a good turn at your hands, Mr. Spencer, I shall 
 take pleasure in calling. But don't forget that you 
 must n't leave your claim for a day. And if you go out 
 of the county, you'll likely lose it entirely. Good-by." 
 
 Spencer watched him till he disappeared down into the 
 creek bottom. Then he wheeled round and entered the 
 cabin. His eyes quickly took it in, from the rusty sheet- 
 iron stove at the farther end to the mouldy straw that 
 marked the bed built against the wall. The floor was of 
 rudely shaped logs, and bright green grass grew in the 
 chinks. A gunny-sack served to close the window open- 
 ing. Overhead the rafter poles dripped damp moss. A 
 few bent tin dishes hung on pegs by the door. It was 
 desolation. "Gee!" the new owner muttered to himself. 
 
4 THE LAND CLAIMERS 
 
 "But ain't it a mess!" He took off his heavy mackinaw 
 coat, displaying to an astonished woodpecker a red and 
 blue striped cotton shirt with immense cuffs. He then 
 rolled a cigarette, lit it, and went outside where he sat on 
 a stump. He puffed a moment, choked, and was doubled 
 up in a violent fit of coughing that left him exhausted. 
 He resumed his seat on the stump and turned his blood- 
 shot eyes to the huge crest of timber on the rise beyond. 
 In his gaze an observer other than the woodpecker might 
 have seen a pleading look that did not seem natural on 
 his thin and determined face. "I'll beat the croaker 
 yet," he whispered huskily. 
 
 The cold sun that illumined the tops of the firs retired 
 slowly. The dusk of the forest deepened. A breeze that 
 had swept the trees with leisurely breath died, and through 
 the silence broke the sound of trickling waters and the 
 whisper of the creek running amid the salmon brush. 
 Spencer stared out into the new scene with grave eyes. 
 He listened for familiar sounds, for one homely noise, but 
 none came to his ear. The tremendous shadow of the 
 Siletz darkened over him. He shivered and went about 
 the task of carrying his supplies into the ruinous cabin. 
 At dark he managed to start a fire in the stove and lit a 
 lantern he had brought with him. It threw strange shapes 
 across the irregular interior and he put it out. In the 
 faint light given by the fire through the many crevices 
 
THE LAND CLAIMERS 5 
 
 in the stove, the new homesteader managed to open his 
 blankets up and spread them on the bed, whence he flung 
 the wet straw. He smoked another cigarette, coughed 
 himself warm and lay down. "I'll start in to-morrow," 
 he said aloud to the dreary cabin. 
 
 Two days later a young woman tramped through the 
 mud of the creek and ascended towards the cabin. Her 
 heavy leather boots she wore easily, though occasionally 
 she bent over to tuck in a lacing that had caught in the 
 brush. Each time that she did this a creel suspended 
 over her shoulders slipped down in front and had to be 
 thrown back. For this reason she did not notice that 
 she was watched till just in front of the shack she straight- 
 ened up, to meet the admiring glance of an utter stranger. 
 She displayed no embarrassment. "My sakes!" she 
 exclaimed. "You don't mean to tell me Old Man Peter- 
 son's claim has been jumped again!" 
 
 Mr. Spencer, for he it was who was gazing at this un- 
 expected visitor, flushed. "This is my claim," he said 
 tartly. 
 
 The young woman took off the corduroy cap that 
 tried to cover the profusion of her hair and fanned herself 
 with it. "My!" she mocked him. "One would s'pose 
 you were afraid of me taking it away from you." 
 
 Sim Spencer, finding no words to his liking, sniffed. 
 " I Ve heard there were some tenderf eet wandering around 
 
6 THELANDCLAIMERS 
 
 this reservation," the girl went on, scanning the dreary 
 clearing, " but I declare I did n't know I would see one 
 squatting right on Old Man Peterson's place." She 
 laughed, somewhat self-consciously. 
 
 "This ain't Peterson's place," he replied, suspiciously. 
 " I got a relink — a relinquishment on it." 
 
 "Are you figuring on selUng it again?" she demanded, 
 with sudden alertness. 
 
 "For twenty thousand dollars," was the reply. 
 
 She broke into soft laughter. "I'll bet I know who 
 you are," she said, when she could control herself. "I'll 
 bet you a bucket of huckleberries that Lim White located 
 you. Lim must be hard up." 
 
 His eyes met hers sullenly. " Am I talkin' to a home- 
 steader? " he asked slowly. • 
 
 I He did not know it, but his question touched a chord 
 that instantly responded. "I ain't laughing at you," 
 she said repentantly. " I 'm Sally McCarthy. Dad is the 
 oldest homesteader in the Siletz." 
 
 "Mr. White told me your father was my neighbor," he 
 said. 
 
 "Then it was Lim White," she announced. "Lim must 
 be awful hard up." She threw him a brief glance. " When 
 Lim's right up against it he always locates somebody on 
 Old Man Peterson's place." 
 
 Sim Spencer would have admitted that he was no 
 
THE LAND CLAIMERS 7 
 
 chicken. His dark eyes brightened as he rolled a cigarette 
 with shaking fingers. "He's located quite a few, I make 
 out?" he suggested. 
 
 She counted on her fingers. "There was Brown first; 
 then Higginson and then Curly Matt and then a girl 
 from the East somewhere and then old Page. He died 
 here. Then Lim let up a while. I guess youVe about 
 Number Six, mister." 
 
 The cigarette was finished, and he lit a match and held 
 it to the tobacco. "What's the matter with this claim?" 
 he asked quietly. 
 
 "No timber," she replied succinctly. 
 
 He put the cigarette between his lips, inhaled the smoke 
 and blew it out in rings. "No good at all?" 
 
 "Not worth a cent,*' she answered. "You know Lim 
 always picks a fellow that is green and won't come back 
 at him. I guess Lim 's had as much as a couple of thousand 
 dollars out of this old place. But he always gets some- 
 body that don't kick too hard. They're old or sick or a 
 woman or they die. He says you Easterners have money 
 to burn, anyway. Lim sort of claims that he's a pubUc 
 philan^ropist to take it away from you." 
 
 Spencer stared upward at the dark trees beyond the 
 creek. The cigarette depended limply from the fingers 
 of his thin hand. Far above him a white cloud swam out 
 of the invisible and cast its shadow across the desolate 
 
8 THE LAND CLAIMERS 
 
 patch of clearing. In that shadow gathered the chill of 
 the sunless timber, the great, still cold of the fir forest. 
 The girl drew her booted feet up under her short skirt, 
 for she had sat down on a stump, and put on her cap. 
 She seemed ready to leave, but at a loss for a final word. 
 She looked curiously over the weazened man before her. 
 A slight, involuntary contempt curled her lip. It vanished 
 when his pallid face suddenly flushed, and his eyes opened 
 wide as the cough seized him. 
 
 The paroxysm lasted till he lay in limp misery on the 
 rough soil. His face was turned towards her. His eyes, 
 wet with tears wrung from him by his agony, held a 
 certain incredible humor in them. The light of it broad- 
 ened. He thrust himself up by one elbow and gasped: 
 "Mr. White always picks his party, does he? He did n't 
 miss his guess much when he set eyes on this lad." He 
 sat up and hunted round for the haK consumed cigarette. 
 Finding it, he sucked it between purple lips and smiled 
 up at her. "Do we mostly croak, you say?" 
 
 His physical suffering was so evident and his spirit so 
 dauntless that Miss McCarthy bent a puzzled brow over 
 the problem. A fresh spasm overtook him, and when 
 he had recovered she got to her feet and walked over to 
 him. "That's what does it," she said curtly, snatching 
 the cigarette stub from his stained fing(irs. 
 
 He stared at her in amazement. Then he scowled. 
 
THE LAND CLAIMERS 9 
 
 "I guess I ain't askin* for any charity sister work,'* he 
 said weakly. " I guess I kin fight my own fights without 
 petticoats. You go away!" 
 
 His voice shook. Not with anger, as Miss McCarthy's 
 instinct told her. She cast round in her mind for some 
 explanation of this strange feebleness. "Huh!" she 
 muttered, suddenly swinging the creel from her shoulder. 
 She disappeared into the cabin. 
 
 Her reappearance was inmaediate. She strode to where 
 Spencer lay panting for breath and shook her finger at 
 him. " Lim White is smarter than I ever gave him credit 
 for," she said, with a sarcasm beneath which the sick man 
 felt a tone of tenderness. "I've heard of all sorts of 
 tenderfeet and claim-jumpers and timber men. But I 
 guess you're the limit. You can't even cook!" 
 
 "Who wants any cookin'?" he demanded airily. 
 "The doc, he says to me: 'Get next to Nature, me lad. 
 Go out in the wild woods and pick daisies and find healt' 
 and strengt'.' He never said nothin' about cookin'." 
 
 The cloud had passed, and the afternoon sun shone 
 faintly into the clearing. The young woman flashed a 
 look into it and then vanished within the shack. There 
 was the sound of an ax on wood. Spencer got weakly 
 to his feet and made for the doorway. Before he reached 
 it his unbidden guest came out to halt him. "You just 
 sit in the sunshine," she commanded curtly. "I never 
 
10 THELANDCLAIMERS 
 
 saw such a homesteader as you. 1*11 bet you don*t even 
 know what baking powder is/' 
 
 He refused to meet her warm eyes. "I ain't boastin','' 
 he remarked. "But I don't want any of your help. I 
 kin see this thing through. See?" 
 
 She scorned him. "You sit still/* she ordered. As she 
 retired once more into the cabin she sniffed loudly, as 
 though to express a profound sense that cooking and not 
 coquetry was demanded of her. At intervals the man 
 outside, struggling to stifle another fit of coughing, heard 
 various sounds which he rightly interpreted to mean that 
 culinary operations were in progress. An odor of ham 
 floated out. He brushed the moisture from his eyes and 
 swore vividly to himself. When she emerged, sleeves 
 rolled to white elbows, with a platter of ham and eggs 
 surrounded by steaming biscuits, he was ungracious. 
 
 "I guess I'm all right," he growled. "I ain't askin' 
 for any help." 
 
 She looked down upon him serenely. "My sakes!" 
 she exclaimed. "What manners!" 
 
 He ate ravenously, in spite of efforts at indifference. 
 Then suddenly, after the manner of those afflicted with 
 his disease, he was surfeited. He shoved the platter from 
 his knees and rolled a cigarette. She watched it till it 
 was lit and he had inhaled the first puff. Then she brushed 
 it from his lips with a sweep of her firm hand. " 'T ain't 
 
THE LAND CLAIMERS 11 
 
 good for you, and you know it," she stormed. "A man 
 smokes a pipe." 
 
 " I ain't askin' you for any advice," he snarled. 
 
 "All right," she returned coldly. "Go to Lim White 
 when you want help. I never knew a luckier man than 
 Lim. Anybody else but him would have sold this rotten 
 old claim to some Swede six feet high that would have 
 taken the trail back and wiped up the whole township, 
 stumps and all, with him. But Lim always gets a woman 
 or an old man or some do-less critter." She fixed her 
 warm eyes on him with a profound look of compassion. 
 " But this is the first time I ever knew him to find a fellow 
 that could n't cook." She picked up the creel, swung it 
 to her shoulder and without a word of farewell strode 
 down the declivity and into the dusk of the creek bottom. 
 
 Spencer gazed after her. He seemed to have something 
 to say; but he found no words to his wishing till she was 
 vanished. Then he rolled a fresh cigarette. "Thanks!" 
 he said huskily. "You're a good gell." He collected the 
 remnants of his meal and took them inside. "Gee!" he 
 remarked to himself, presently, "she kin cook!" Later 
 he studied the labels on the cans of supplies and perused 
 with intense interest the recipes printed on some. "It's 
 up to me to learn to cook," he muttered. "There's that 
 Lim White." Sharp teeth showed between his shrunken 
 lips. "I ain't dead yet," he said menacingly. 
 
CHAPTER II 
 
 MISS SALLY McCarthy, christened Salall by a 
 mother who had expired after giving her daughter 
 this last memorial of her brief romance amid the forest, 
 did not inform her father of the episode of the new home- 
 steader, except to announce after supper that there was a 
 fresh tenderfoot up on Old Man Peterson's place. 
 
 McCarthy, withdrawing his pipe from his mouth, 
 emitted the sententious remark "Lim?" 
 
 "I guess it was Lim, all right," said his daughter, 
 hanging the dish-pan outside the door to drip. 
 
 "Old, crippled, or msane," her parent demanded drily. 
 
 Sally wrung out the dish-cloth and contemplated the 
 wall of timber that surrounded their cabin. "I don't 
 know," she said indifferently. "But I guess Lim '11 get 
 into trouble some day. There ain't over six fools in a half 
 dozen." 
 
 McCarthy sighed. "Lim's pretty smooth," he re- 
 marked. " He always keeps the sunny side of the law — 
 or the land office, which is the same thing. See the new 
 settler?" 
 
THE LAND CLAIMERS 13 
 
 "Looked to me like a sort of nice little fellow," she said 
 simply. 
 
 "Nice little feller I" echoed her father. "And went 
 and took up Old Man Peterson's claim!'* 
 
 Later he snuffed the candle and looked over to where 
 his daughter lay in bed behind a gaudy curtain of calico. 
 "We ain't lost any 'nice little fellers' round here, Sally," 
 he said meaningly. 
 
 His daughter murmured sleepily, "Who said we had?" 
 With this filial retort she went to sleep. 
 
 The next day McCarthy recognized Mr. Spencer as the 
 "nice little fellow" when he appeared along the trail, 
 with a cigarette in his lips and a hard felt hat set rakishly 
 on the back of his head. McCarthy's greeting was curt, 
 but the tone was not inhospitable. "Lonesome?" 
 
 "I came to ask Miss McCarthy about biscuit," Spencer 
 said imperturbably. 
 
 "Heard about her cooking?" McCarthy asked more 
 amiably. 
 
 "Sure," said the young man, accepting a seat on the 
 bench by the door. 
 
 At this moment Sally came out. She nodded to the vis- 
 itor, and her father said: "This is the new feller on Old 
 Man Peterson's place. This is my daughter Sally, Mr. — " 
 
 "Spencer," was the polite suggestion. "Glad to meet 
 you." 
 
14 THELANDCLAIMERS 
 
 "He came over to ask you about your biscuits/' her 
 father continued indulgently. "You've got a repittation 
 in the timber, Sally. Even the tenderfeet hear about it." 
 
 Sally nodded absently. Her clear, gray eyes met her 
 guest's coolly. Strange to say, Mr. Spencer blushed. 
 
 "I ain't up on biscuit," he said diiOBdently. "I thought 
 maybe you'd tell me how it's done." 
 
 She sat down beside him, crossing one booted leg over 
 the other. "What sort of biscuit?" she demanded 
 negligently. "Risen, beaten, soda or sour dough?" 
 
 The challenge found Spencer unready. "I dunno," he 
 said hesitatingly. "I guess you know the best sort." 
 
 "Soda," she said promptly. "Come in and I'll show 
 you. I'm just makin' a batch." 
 
 Inside the comfortable cabin Sim Spencer found himself 
 at once deep in the mysteries of lard, sour milk, flour and 
 sugar. He fastened his attention on the matter, and 
 within half an hour Sally informed him that all he needed 
 further was practice. "Just see to it that your oven's 
 hot," she warned him finally. 
 
 Sim lingered. " I wanted to say ' Thanks,' " he ventured 
 lamely. "I guess you did n't hear me." 
 
 His dark eyes met hers. For the first time in her life 
 Sally felt embarrassed. "Dad has no use for people on 
 Old Man Peterson's place," she said abruptly. 
 
 He nodded. "I see his fix. But I guess biscuits will 
 
THE LAND CLAIMERS 15 
 
 pull me through. You see, it's this way/* he went on 
 swiftly; "I want to see Lim White again." 
 
 Her only response was a quizzical look. McCarthy 
 called from oustide: "I say, Spencer, there's some cruisers 
 in here from the Eastern and Western. Mebbe you could 
 find out about your timber from them and make a deal." 
 
 The young man walked out jauntily. "My claim's too 
 vallyble to sell now," he said lightly. "Fm goin' to hold 
 onto it for a while." 
 
 "How much do you expect to get for it?" McCarthy 
 inquired, with profound humor. 
 
 "Twenty thou," was the indifferent reply. 
 
 When he was gone, McCarthy addressed his daughter. 
 "I guess Lim was in luck agin," he remarked. "That 
 feller is two-times-two foolish and looks to me as though 
 he was n't good fer much longer, anyway. I wonder where 
 he comes from? He ain't never seen timber before, that's 
 certain." 
 
 "I guess Lim '11 get what's coming to him, some day," 
 his daughter answered. 
 
 McCarthy chuckled. "Lim's pretty smart," he said 
 appreciatively. 
 
 The next morning Sim Spencer, elbow-deep in a pan of 
 dough, looked up at a sUght sound to see Sally in the 
 doorway. "How's the biscuit?" she demanded. 
 
 He held up floury hands. "I dunno. I burnt up a 
 
16 THE LAND CLAIMERS 
 
 batch last night before I seen whether they raised or not. 
 I'm tryin' a new batch." 
 
 "You poor man!" she exclaimed, coming in. A mo- 
 ment later Spencer found himself ousted from the pan 
 and his visitor deep into the dough. "You must have 
 been expecting company, ' ' she said coquettishly . " You Ve 
 got enough here for twenty people." 
 
 "I thought I'd make plenty," he said. "But I was n't 
 expectin' any company." 
 
 "My sakes!" she said quickly. "How hospitable you 
 are! Want me to go right away?" 
 
 His thin cheeks burned. "Yer jokin'," he responded. 
 " I guess I 'm about the biggest comic you ' ve seen for some 
 hours." 
 
 She glanced at him over her shoulder. He received that 
 innocent message in silence, rolled a cigarette, lit it and 
 threw it away. "I was thinkin' of takin' to a pipe," he 
 remarked. "But I got to wait till I kin get to town and 
 fetch one." 
 
 "It would be lots better for you," she answered. "It 
 would n't keep you coughing so." 
 
 "Oh, I don't cough much," Spencer returned, with a 
 smile. "I guess the doc was right when he fired me out 
 of the city. I'm better already." 
 
 A sniff betrayed Miss McCarthy's scorn of this subter- 
 fuge. "You're coughing worse 'n ever," she said tartly. 
 
THE LAND CLAIMERS 17 
 
 "It's all right for you to throw your cigarette away now; 
 but you '11 smoke twenty of them to-night and cough your 
 eyes wet." 
 
 "How do you know?" he demanded. "We ain't such 
 close neighbors that I keep you awake." 
 
 "I was wandering round after a coon last night," she 
 said hurriedly. "I crossed your clearing and saw you." 
 
 Spencer sighed. " And I was wishin' I was — I was — " 
 
 "Wishing what?" she demanded briefly. 
 
 Sim scowled. "Nothin'," he replied. 
 
 "Just what you got," Sally answered, sliding the pan 
 of biscuits into the oven. "So you ought to have been 
 satisfied. Now watch this bread. Good-by." 
 
 He followed her through the doorway. She nodded 
 carelessly. "I must be traveling. Lim White's due this 
 evening, and I must be getting home." She turned her 
 back and slipped down the trail through the clearing. Sim 
 watched her go and then settled down on a stump where 
 he smoked three cigarettes in succession. Then he lay 
 down on the ground and coughed himself black in the 
 face. An hour later he crept into the cabin. The smell of 
 burning biscuits lingered. He snatched the oven door 
 open. " If the fire had n't have gone out," he mused, 
 "I'd ha' been out these biscuits; but I guess they're only 
 scorched." He bit into one and nodded appreciatively. 
 
 That night the moon rose over the hills and poured a 
 
18 THE LAND CLAIMERS 
 
 cold flood of light into the clearing. Every stump stood 
 out distinctly. The dark creek bottom alone maintained 
 the secrets of the dusk. In its shadow a mink splashed 
 across a pool. Later a predatory owl swished among the 
 alders in pursuit of a wood rat. With a sense of having 
 irretrievably descended into infinite obscurity, Sim Spencer 
 shivered in the doorway of his shack and contemplated 
 with disgust the peace of nature. His thoughts were dis- 
 mal. Now and then he stretched out thin arms and 
 thumped his bony chest with closed fists. A crane, rising 
 from some invisible pond, stalked out into the open and 
 exercised itself in such fashion as irresistibly insinuated 
 an imitation of the man. Sim snarled and shouted in rage, 
 hurling a stone at it. The crane sidled off, flapped its 
 wings and rose into the moonshine. After it he threw a 
 curse. Then he stumbled into his cabin, closed the door 
 and flung himself on his hard bed. As the chill of the 
 night air penetrated to his marrow, he drew the blanket 
 over his chin and gritted his teeth. "Comes to see her, 
 does he?" he groaned. "I sure must learn how to cook." 
 For three days Spencer labored over the little stove to 
 such purpose that at the end of that period he had a store 
 of biscuit, some passable baking-powder bread, and a 
 lop-sided cake. Contemplating this, the homesteader 
 felt of his thin limbs and coughed. " I think I must be a 
 little better," he remarked to himself. "But not better 
 
THE LAND CLAIMERS 19 
 
 enough." He picked out a biscuit and swallowed it with 
 a grimace. "I got to get some weight on," he continued. 
 He swallowed another, with an expression of extreme dis- 
 taste. His eyes rested on a third, but his relief was great 
 when a tramping outside the cabin, and a rough hail, 
 called him out. He went, blinking. A pack horse grazed 
 a dozen yards down the trail, and its owner was engaged 
 in filling his pipe in the intervals of calling cheerfully for 
 "Spencer-r-rl" 
 
 "What is it?" he demanded, peering into the pallid 
 sunshine. 
 
 "Want any supplies to-day?" said the packer, coming 
 forward. 
 
 Spencer nodded. "I want some tobacco and a pipe." 
 
 "I always bring that along," the packer answered. 
 "It's the first thing every man wants." He went to his 
 animal and came back with the articles. At his suggestion 
 the homesteader made out a further list of supplies needed. 
 This finished, the packer rose from the bench he had been 
 seated on and sniffed the air. "I'm hungry," he an- 
 nounced. "Mind if I use your stove, partner?" 
 
 "Go ahead," Spencer assented hospitably. "And 
 there's some stuff already cooked. Help yourself." 
 
 The other soon made himself at home, and after a 
 shrewd glance at his host became very busy. In fifteen 
 minutes he came out with two steaming platefuls of 
 
20 THE LAND CLAIMERS 
 
 victuals, one of which he handed to Spencer. "Thought 
 might as well cook your dinner, too," he said gruffly. 
 "Hope you don't mind." 
 
 The homesteader considered his visitor thoughtfully 
 and nodded. "They say Lim White picks his man pretty 
 careful," he said gently. 
 
 The packer started violently and then stared. "Lim's 
 quite a smart locator," he managed to say. "Did you 
 know him long?" 
 
 "Not long," Spencer answered. "But I feel I know 
 him pretty well." 
 
 "Sally told me there was a new man on this place," the 
 packer muttered, dropping his eyes to his plate. "So I 
 came up to see what you wanted in the way of supplies." 
 
 "Thanks," said Spencer lightly. "I reckon to be a 
 pretty steady customer till I prove up." 
 
 His companion considered this a while, over his meal, 
 and then ventured: "Going to commute?" 
 
 Spencer coughed. "If I commute, it'll cost me a dollar 
 and a quarter an acre more, won't it?" 
 
 "Yes, but if you don't you'll have to live here three 
 years instead of only fourteen months." 
 
 This was considered thoughtfully. "Would you ad- 
 vise me to pay a dollar twenty-five an acre for this claim?" 
 was the question. 
 
 "I dunno," the packer said, putting his plate down in 
 
THE LAND CLAIMERS 21 
 
 favor of his pipe. Then, to change the subject to some- 
 thing less embarrassing, he went on: "I guess Lim's 
 thinking of marrying Sally. Old Man McCarthy, he 
 says his daughter sha'n't marry any poor man. And 
 Lim 's about the only real rich feller in the Siletz, 
 except some of the Indians. Besides, he wants the girl 
 mighty bad." 
 
 Silence followed, during which Spencer took the empty 
 plates into the cabin. When he came out his thin cheeks 
 blazed with an unwholesome color. "Feel pretty mean?" 
 the packer asked him kindly. 
 
 " I 'm not just fit," was the brief answer. " But I '11 feel 
 better soon. I *m not exactly used to this homesteading." 
 
 The packer got his animal, said an awkward good-by 
 and departed across the little clearing. Spencer, bent 
 over in a paroxysm of coughing, did not see the man's 
 head shake as he passed into the alders, nor observe that 
 in the goodness of his heart he had left a bottle of cough 
 syrup on the bench. Finding this article later, he swore 
 and threw it into the brush. "What's the use?" he 
 demanded of the cold sky. "Lim always picks his 
 party." 
 
 Nevertheless he rescued the bottle that night and hope- 
 fully took a dose. 
 
 Fall darkened and deepened into winter during the 
 next few weeks, and Spencer, consulting the laborious 
 
22 THELANDCLAIMERS 
 
 memoranda he had made at White's drawling dictation, 
 wrestled with a double-bitted ax among the brush and 
 strove to accomplish the necessary "improvements" re- 
 quired of every homesteader. This industry was inter- 
 mittent, to be sure, owing to the annoying facility with 
 which physical exertion brought on attacks of coughing. 
 But he stuck manfully to his task, though the rains gath- 
 ered in the mountains, and every day drenching showers 
 filled the creek bottom with roily water. Once a week 
 the packer visited him, bringing his scanty supplies. 
 Apart from this man he saw no one. 
 
 The preparations of winter were complete at last. 
 The clouds assembled about the rising sun each morn- 
 ing and marked its setting each evening. Wild geese 
 honked their way overhead, far above the tree crests. 
 The bears ceased crunching among the huckleberries at 
 night, and the small creatures of the dank under-forest 
 grew silent. Then the wind rose, gust by gust, day by 
 day, till its furious blast roared through the tall timber 
 with an incessant and horrible noise. Occasionally there 
 burst upon the anxious ear the bellow of the Pacific 
 Ocean, thundering against the rocks a few miles away. 
 At other times the huge, palpable silence of the Siletz 
 forest gathered itself again for an interval, and in that 
 gloomy stillness the earth itself seemed to cease to have 
 life and there rose from it the vast chill of mortality. 
 
THE LAND CLAIMERS 23 
 
 These phenomena of nature impressed the new home- 
 steader more than he admitted to himself. At night, 
 when his flimsy cabin rocked on its precarious founda- 
 tion, and the draught up the stove-pipe marked the 
 holes with little flights of sparks, he sat on the edge of 
 his bunk and glowered. All his life he had known the 
 streets of San Francisco, the glare of lights, the noise of 
 humanity, the jostle and friction of mingling with thou- 
 sands of companions, friends, enemies and strangers. 
 From that lively scene he had suddenly been transferred 
 to the heart of a lonely and interminable forest, on a 
 coast where no one dwelt, under a dripping and morose 
 sky, to spend dull days and unlit nights by himself. 
 Every sense within him ached. His impulse at dawn 
 was to start on the long trail back; his dreams at night 
 were of arriving suddenly under the lights of Market 
 Street, with the clang of the bells in his ears, the harsh 
 pavement under his feet, the glare of life and enjoyment 
 and pleasure before his eyes. But each day he drove 
 himself out to his tasteless toil, and each night he stimu- 
 lated himself by the thought that, in all his varied life, 
 he had never "quit." 
 
 At last the packer failed to arrive. Then he knew that 
 winter had closed down. He remembered that he must 
 go to McCarthy's for supplies, that homestead being on 
 the main trail which was still kept open by strength of 
 
24 THE LAND CLAIMERS 
 
 man and horse. But though the flour ran low, and only 
 the rind of the bacon was left, he could not bring himself 
 to tramp the long mile. "I might meet White there," he 
 would mutter to himself. "And I ain't fit, yet." 
 
 So he gloomed continually while the wind swept the 
 vast chords of the forest, and the rain fell in pelting tor- 
 rents, and the creek bottom filled till the alders shivered 
 in a lake of chill water. His efforts with the ax had sup- 
 plied him with plenty of firewood and he kept indoors, 
 smoking his pipe and coughing. Now and again, the 
 rain ceasing for an hour, he crept out into the clearing, 
 ax in hand, and chopped miserably at the huge fallen 
 trees that encumbered the ground. From these expedi- 
 tions he would return panting, to throw himself on his 
 rude bed and shiver into rest. Then his provisions gave 
 out, and for three days he huddled over the fire. 
 
 During these days it seemed to him that the ghosts of 
 those who had had the place before him still hovered 
 wretchedly in the neighborhood. He saw in imagination 
 an old man pottering around in the dank earth, trying 
 to endure loneliness and famine and intolerable toil till 
 the end. He dimly surmised that an old woman had 
 crept about the cabin, crying to herself in unassuaged 
 pain. The desolate clearing, the squalid shack, the rain- 
 soaked soil stood only for poverty and deception and 
 want and blasting of hope. This, he meditated bitterly, 
 
THE LAND CLAIMERS 25 
 
 was that Nature he had so often heard extolled, that 
 simple life that meant health and strength. 
 
 With the fickleness of Oregon weather, the sun sud- 
 denly emerged brightly from the clouds and poured a 
 subdued warmth down into the clearing. Spencer, 
 crouched by his fire, felt the reviving influence and went 
 to the door. As he stood there, his vague gaze fixed into 
 a look of curiosity. A slim figure was wading the creek. 
 It was, he discerned, a woman holding a short skirt above 
 high boots. The homesteader watched her a moment, 
 then with a swift glance backward into the bare interior 
 of his cabin, he shut the door and walked out to meet 
 Sally McCarthy. 
 
 She greeted him coldly, letting her skirt fall modestly 
 over her boots. "I thought you'd quit," she said. 
 
 He nodded. "I s'posed that's what you'd think," he 
 said, with a forced smile. "But I'm still holding onto 
 my claim." 
 
 She looked at his wan face and pinched frame with 
 open pity. "I'll bet you wanted to quit," she answered. 
 "Why have n't you been over for your grub?" 
 
 "Have n't needed it," he said quickly. 
 
 She paused and glanced at her feet. " I thought maybe 
 — you'd — you'd come, anyway," she responded slowly. 
 
 This he pondered a while. Then he smiled. " I did n't 
 want to meet Lim White — just yet," he retorted. 
 
26 THE LAND CLAIMERS 
 
 "Traidof him?'' she sniffed. 
 
 "You know he always picks his party," he said 
 humorously. 
 
 She appeared to have a sharp answer ready, but his 
 cough interrupted, and she flew to sympathy. "You 
 must come and get your grub," she said. "I thought 
 maybe you were sick. That's why I came." 
 
 He looked away, ashamed. "I guess I'll come with 
 you now," he responded. 
 
 They waded the creek bottom and went up the trail 
 that led to her home. The girl was in advance, stepping 
 easily over the rough ground or springing lightly across 
 a fallen tree. At intervals she called back to her com- 
 panion some word of encouragement or information. 
 "There's two new settlers in the next town," she told 
 him. "They both got good claims, too. One of them 
 is a school teacher, a woman from Wisconsin some- 
 where." 
 
 "I wished I had seen her comin','' Spencer commented 
 carelessly. "I do beHeve I'd have sold out to her!" 
 
 "You wouldn't sell your place to a woman, would 
 you?" SaUy called back. 
 
 "Well," Spencer retorted, "I couldn't sell to a man, 
 could I?" 
 
 "There's some letters for you," she said presently. 
 
 Hearing no answer she stopped and looked back. He 
 
THE LAND CLAIMERS 27 
 
 was not in sight. She wrinkled her forehead over this a 
 moment; then she retraced her steps. Around a bend 
 in the trail she came upon him, sitting on the root of a 
 big fir, his face in his hands. "What's the matter?" she 
 inquired. 
 
 He looked up at her bravely. "I'm sick," he said. 
 "I guess I'll go back." He tried to get to his feet and 
 failed. 
 
 Sally gazed down at him, her gray eyes troubled. 
 "Dad's gone to Newport," she said slowly and hesi- 
 tated. "He won't be back short of day after to-morrow. 
 If you could just get as far as the cabin, I could take care 
 of you." 
 
 His dark eyes closed. He shook his head. "Toddle 
 on," he said weakly. "I'll be all right pretty soon and 
 I'll get back to my place." 
 
 Sally shook her head pettishly, brushed the hair out 
 of her eyes and kicked a stone into the canyon below. 
 Having thus expressed her irritation, she stooped and 
 picked the sick man up like a child. He struggled feebly, 
 but her strong arms held him closely. A moment later 
 she had him on his feet. One arm she threw across his 
 back, under his shoulders. With the other she held him 
 upright. "Now you just try and walk," she commanded. 
 "I'll do the rest." 
 
 Possibly some of the girl's vitality communicated 
 
28 THE LAND CLAIMERS 
 
 itself to the exhausted man, for gradually his steps be- 
 came firmer. But she did not relax her grasp of him till 
 they emerged at last into the clearing around her father's 
 cabin. With a gentle shove, she pushed him to a seat 
 on the bench. "There you are, mister," she said. "Now 
 I'll get something to eat. I'm hungry." 
 
 Spencer ate but little. His misty eyes roved over the 
 clearing like those of a trapped creature. He seemed to 
 be meditating an escape. But the early night came, and 
 he still sat on the bench. Sally busied herself in the 
 cabin till the long shadows grew black. Then she came 
 out and took him by the arm. "Bed for yours," she said 
 curtly. 
 
 He followed her, and she pointed to a bunk behind 
 the stove. "Tumble in," she ordered. When he hesi- 
 tated and mumbled something about going back to his 
 own cabin, she pooh-poohed him and shoved him gently. 
 "Hurry!" she said briefly. 
 
 He managed to climb into bed. She gazed at him 
 blankly. "Do you go to bed with your boots on?" she 
 demanded. 
 
 He gulped and swung his shanks out. Later he dropped 
 one boot after the other to the floor. Sally smiled. "My 
 sakes!" she exclaimed. "If you have n't got on rainbow 
 socks! You're quite a swell, ain't you?" 
 
 Spencer contemplated the gorgeous habiliments of his 
 
THE LAND CLAIMERS 29 
 
 feet and then withdrew them swiftly under the blanket. 
 From that modest refuge he viewed his hostess calmly. 
 " I like bright colors," he said. " Any offense? " 
 
 Sally shook her head. "No, sure not. I had a 
 pair like yours when I was six. I thought they were 
 about as fine as anything. I Ve never had a pair since. 
 Seems as if Government gray was as good as I could do 
 now." 
 
 Spencer relaxed in the warmth and seemed deep in 
 some soothing meditation. He roused presently. " Did n't 
 you say there were some letters for me?" 
 
 The girl reached up to a shelf and drew out two. She 
 tossed them over to him. Spencer scanned the addresses 
 carefully, held the envelopes up to the light and then 
 opened them, one after the other. This done, he paused, 
 holding them in his hand. Then he let one fall and drew 
 the enclosure out of the other. His lips moved as he 
 spelled it out. When he had read it, he tucked it wearily 
 under his pillow and sank into thought. Sally glanced 
 over at him occasionally but said nothing till a slight 
 contraction of the sick man's lips made her ask, "Bad 
 news?" 
 
 "Nope," he returned curtly. Then he got the other 
 letter and read that. 
 
 When he had finished it, he stared at the ceiling a 
 while. This occupation he abandoned to fix his eyes on 
 
30 THELANDCLAIMERS 
 
 Sally with the query: "Are you goin' to marry Lim 
 White?" 
 
 If he anticipated confusion, embarrassment and blushes, 
 he failed. Sally pinned her sewing afresh to her knee 
 and looked up. "No," she said briefly. 
 
 Spencer digested this and then ventured a second time, 
 "Who are you goin' to marry?" 
 
 Sally scrutinized her work and tapped her teeth 
 thoughtfully with her thimbled finger. Her eyes met 
 Spencer's. "I don't know," she answered slowly. 
 
 "I thought all girls knew who they were goin' to marry," 
 he said querulously. 
 
 His hostess smiled. "I guess most of them wait till 
 they're asked," she remarked, sewing briskly. 
 
 "Has n't Lim asked ye?" he demanded, sitting up. 
 
 Her gray eyes dropped. "I guess he's setting his cap 
 for better 'n me," she said severely. 
 
 He chuckled. "There's one person smarter 'n Lim 
 White," he remarked meaningly. 
 
 ; She glanced up. His humorous look called forth a 
 smile. She tossed her head. "Oh, Lim isn't so many," 
 she asserted. "Even if he does get the best of some I 
 know," she teased. 
 
 Spencer's smile was grim. "The game ain't over," he 
 said acidly. "Just let me put on a little more weight. 
 I'U fix him!" 
 
THE LAND CLAIMERS 31 
 
 "More weight!" she repeated curiously. 
 
 He chuckled again. "You don't know who I am?" 
 
 She stared at him, startled. He reassured her. " Noth- 
 ing dangerous," he admitted. "D' ye never hear of Sim 
 Spencer of Spencer & Ross?" 
 
 " I never did," she confessed. 
 
 He grimaced. "That's notoriousness for you. Why, 
 I'm the wickedest man on the San Francisco water-front. 
 I 've been shippin' sailors for ten years. They don't make 
 *em I could n't handle. Of course I 'm all wore out now. 
 But if I could only get my weight back for five minutes, 
 I'd show your Lim White a thing or two." 
 
 She stared at his worn and seamed visage with inno- 
 cent eyes. "You're awful sick, ain't you?" she said 
 simply. 
 
 "That's it," he assented wearily. "But I was never a 
 quitter. If I kin only make weight now, I'll fix Lim 
 White." His voice died away. Presently he looked out 
 of his bunk again. "Lim White picks his party pretty 
 careful, don't he? " His eyes met hers bravely. 
 
 A little later Sally put her sewing away and retired be- 
 hind the calico curtain which formed her sleeping room. 
 From this privacy she called out "Good night." Spencer 
 muttered a reply. "Pretty near asleep," thought Sally, 
 pulling the blankets up about her. 
 
 But Spencer was not sleepy. Through long hours he 
 
32 THE LAND CLAIMERS 
 
 lay with his eyes on the ceiling, on which the light of the 
 dying fire played fitfully. Now and then he stirred rest- 
 lessly. Finally he half rose in bed and thumped his 
 pillow. "I'll do it/' he said to himself. "That's the 
 ticket!" He fell asleep. 
 
CHAPTER III 
 
 SPENCER awakened to find Sally already up and 
 busy over the stove. She greeted him calmly and 
 announced breakfast. With some effort he arose and, 
 after washing his face in the basin outside the door, came 
 in and sat down to the table. After breakfast he got up. 
 "I s'pose I better be moseying along," he said. "Much 
 obliged." 
 
 Sally shook her head. " The wind 's getting up. You Ve 
 got to stay here with me. I 'm afraid when the wind blows. 
 Dad would n't cut down the big trees around the cabin; 
 said they were worth money. And I'm always afraid 
 they'll blow down some night and kill us." 
 
 Spencer gazed at her smilingly. "I'll bet you ain't 
 much afraid of the storms," he said. "But I'll stay, if 
 you want me to. And if you've got pen and ink and 
 paper I'll just answer these letters I got." 
 
 The gray forenoon found him still busy with the writing 
 materials. For some reason constant reference was neces- 
 sary to both letters, and he lost much time in finding his 
 place first in the letter he had received and then in the 
 letter he was writing. At last he was done. With a sigh 
 
34 THE LAND CLAIMERS 
 
 he folded them all up and devoted himself to directing 
 two envelopes. Then he had great difficulty in making 
 sure that he had the right letter in the proper envelope. 
 Sally occasionally stopped in her work long enough to 
 remark coquettishly that she was sure he was writing to 
 his best girl. At this remark Spencer consistently looked 
 over and assured her that, in view of present company, 
 he could think of no one else besides herself. 
 
 Finally he reread all the letters. The first — the one 
 he had first looked at the night before — was written on 
 a physician's letter-head. It was as follows: 
 
 San Fbancisco, Cal., 
 
 September 24, 1906. 
 
 Dear Sim, — I have heard how you are getting along since 
 you left the city. I hope you are feeling better. You have 
 no definite disease but you have a couple of bad lesions that 
 may make you serious trouble. I have no doubt but that 
 you will gain weight and strength in the open air. But 
 don't overdo. Don't try to do a man's work. I may as 
 well tell you at once that you are past the time when you can 
 do what you used to do. The slightest exertion may prove 
 fatal in your weakened condition, and even when you get 
 stronger any continued or violent physical effort may kill you. 
 
 Don't let this discourage you. With care you'll live to 
 moiu'n for us all. The boys are well and inquire after you. 
 Bill was in Tuesday and asked me whether I thought you 
 needed any money. If you go broke, call on any of us. 
 Very truly yoms, 
 
 Richard T. Hobbs, M.D. 
 
THE LAND CLAIMERS 35 
 
 The second letter was on brilliant purple paper upon 
 which a glaring ink showed with painful distinctness. 
 The envelope was scented. This was the letter: 
 
 Dear Old Sim, — Doc tells me you're in Oregon living 
 the simple life. Who *d have supposed it of you. Well, such 
 is life. Now I want you to help me, Sim. You know IVe 
 always sort of looked to you since Harry quit me cold two 
 years after we were married. I know you'll do it, just as 
 you always have. Only this is different It's about Hal. 
 He left college last June with his degree and diploma all 
 right. I sent him up to Canada for the summer and told 
 him I thought he'd need a vacation after his hard work 
 studying. But it's getting towards winter now and Hal 
 writes me long letters saying he wants to come to Frisco and 
 get a job teaching somewhere. 
 
 You see what that means, Sim. It would have been all 
 right when I was in legitimate at the old Alcazar. But I'm 
 in vaudeville. Worse than that. I 'm clear down to variety. 
 I'm getting old, Sim. I do my turn just as I used to do. 
 But it don't take any more and if I did n't have a contract 
 with Myers I'd be off the circuit now. You know I've had 
 to work pretty hard to keep Hal in college and fix him up 
 like a gentleman. Now that's all done. But you can see it 
 would n't do for him to come out here and find his mother in 
 taudevUle. It would kill him and kill me, too, I guess, Sim. 
 I've just got to keep him in the dark. He's so proud. Just 
 think what my boy would say if he came out to take a posi- 
 tion in the university and it turned out his mother was playing 
 the cheap circuits in a dance turn. So I want you to help me. 
 
 I want you to write to Hal and tell him you're on a ranch 
 or whatever it is in Oregon and that you want him to come 
 
36 THE LAND CLAIMERS 
 
 and see you. Tell him there's money in the West and he 
 can make a good Hving. I'll try and send you some money 
 every week and you can pay him a salary till he really gets 
 settled. Then you can help me keep my secret. You know 
 I have n't seen my boy since he was twelve and in the board- 
 ing school and I was with the Roberts in The Danites. 
 He still thinks I'm in legitimate but only acting when I feel 
 like it and hving hke a lady the rest of the time. So you 
 can just help me out. Tell him you know me and I 'm doing 
 all right and so on. You know the talk I 'd like him to hear. 
 You won't have to keep it up for long, Sim. My contract 
 with Myers is out next May, Then I'll quit and leave Hal 
 to Hve like a gentleman without his mother in vaudeville. 
 I 'm sick, anyway, so it won't be any trouble. And Hal won't 
 ever know. He'll get along all right, too. It's so much 
 easier for a man than a woman. 
 
 I enclose a money order for thirty dollars. Send it to Hal 
 for his ticket. His address is Wallingford, Ontario, Canada. 
 Write me right away that you'll do this and I'll bless you, 
 Sim, all my hfe. Tell me how Hal looks when he comes. 
 I 'm sending you our route card so you can find out where to 
 address me. Is it right as doc says that you're down and 
 out for a while? Or are you just resting up? Take care of 
 yourself. You might tell Hal that I'll be down to see him 
 next summer. That's a. joke, Sim. But Hal will never know. 
 
 Flossetta Marini, 
 
 Care The Marini Trio. 
 
 After perusing these with bent brows Spencer took up 
 his replies. To the doctor he had written: 
 
 Dear Doc, — I'm feelin fit as a fiddel. Gained 6 pounds. 
 Im on a timber claim worth 20,000 dollars. Thank the boys 
 
THE LAND CLAIMERS 37 
 
 for me. I wont be back for a while. My cough is better but 
 111 remember what you said about the hard work. Ever 
 know me to work my head off? I aint that sort. This lyin 
 round business is just my ticket. When I get my 20,000 111 
 come down and see you. 
 
 Yrs truly 
 
 Sim Spencer 
 
 To Flossetta Marini his letter was longer: 
 
 SiLETZ, December 1, 1906. 
 
 Dear Miss Flossetta, — You came to the right party 
 about your son. Ill look after him on my ranch. Im pretty 
 well off. The doc is all off when he says Im down and out. 
 Thats his guff. I need a good willing fellow to work for me 
 and 111 be glad to give him the job. Lots of real gentlemen 
 work on ranches and 111 try to get him a better job right away. 
 You neednt mind to send any money. Id have to pay some- 
 body and Hal might as well have it as any body. 
 
 Of course 111 not squeal on you though I dont see no harm 
 in your bein in vaudeville. Anyways you worked too hard 
 for him. If I was you Id stop thinkin over that next May. 
 You might have good news before then. If your son is any 
 good which Im not sayin he aint he wont thank you for 
 leavin him. But 111 keep it all dark and do my best. This 
 is a great country and lots of money in it. Cheer up, Miss 
 Flossetta and dont mope. Now that Hal is suportin himself 
 loosen up and spend a little on yourself. 
 
 Respectfully yours, 
 
 S. Spencer. 
 
 P. S. Im sendin back the money order as I need Hal any- 
 way and 111 take it out of his wages. 
 
 Sim. 
 
38 THELANDCLAIMERS 
 
 He sealed the letters and extracted from his wallet two 
 stamps, which he carefully affixed. Then he tm-ned to 
 Sally. "That's done," he announced. "Now I've got 
 to mail them somehow." 
 
 "The packer will be here day after tomorrow," she 
 answered. "Can't your sweethearts wait till then?" 
 
 Spencer grinned. "Cry their eyes out if they don't 
 hear immediate," he responded. 
 
 The girl sniffed. "Well, the wind's coming up, and 
 nobody can get to Siletz this weather. So they'll have 
 to wait." 
 
 A glance out the door showed that she was right. Far 
 above the tree-tops dark clouds were scurrying westward 
 before a driving gale that only now and then descended to 
 twist the fir crests into a wild dance. The underbrush 
 crackled slightly as the widespreading roots tugged at 
 their shallow anchorage. "It does look like a storm," 
 Spencer admitted, coughing as a draught of chill air 
 struck him. 
 
 "I can always tell when they're coming," Sally repUed. 
 "They begin in the east and then blow right round till 
 they're in the west. Then it does blow." 
 
 Sim fingered the envelopes and hesitated. Then he 
 shut the door. "Ever hear of any one being hurt?" he 
 asked idly. 
 
 Sally's face flushed and then went white. "The Orwigs 
 
THE LAND CLAIMERS 39 
 
 were all five of them under a big fir in the next township 
 last winter," she said, with a shudder. 
 
 He turned at her tone and shook his head commiserat- 
 ingly. "Did that scare ye?'' 
 
 She nodded and her gray eyes filled with tears. "There 
 was a baby!" she said breathlessly. "A new baby!" 
 
 He looked away and his mouth twitched. "Too bad," 
 he managed to stammer. Sally went out the door with a 
 muttered, " I must shut up those chickens before it blows," 
 and Spencer nodded to himself. "Poor gell," he said 
 slowly. Then the revelation of the girl's face struck him 
 again, and he patted the letters in his pocket. "You're 
 all women aUke, Fossetta," he remarked. "You're al'ays 
 thinkin' of the babies." He sat down gloomily. 
 
 The storm brewed slowly, with great gusts that left the 
 forest trembling in a stillness of expectancy. Sally, her 
 chickens safely housed, brought in the wood and water, 
 refusing Spencer's assistance. Then she called him, and 
 they put up the wooden shutters that protected the win- 
 dows. As they entered and closed the door for the last 
 time, the rain was beating through the dense branches, 
 and the steady roar of the gale was overhead. The after- 
 noon Hght vanished in a whirl of black cloud. Then a 
 terrific crash marked the fall of the first tree. Standing 
 in the middle of the shaking cabin, Spencer looked at 
 Sally. "I'm glad you ain't alone," he said simply. 
 
40 THE LAND CLAIMERS 
 
 She smiled bravely. "You don't mind if I'm awfully 
 afraid, do you? " 
 
 In the darkness that filled the room, Spencer gulped. 
 But she saw only his dark, bright eyes lit with a certain 
 humorous gleam. "My sakes!" she exclaimed airily. 
 "If you don't think it's all a joke!" 
 
 Spencer thrust his pipe between his lips and lit a match. 
 Holding the blowing flame over its empty bowl, he showed 
 her his meagre face twisted into a grin. " I 'm the great- 
 est joker ever," he told her. "I've done all the jokin' for 
 as many as three people at a time!" 
 
 The match went out, and Sally crossed the room to the 
 stove. "We had better eat some supper," she remarked. 
 "Just light the lantern." 
 
 He lit it and hung it up on a hook behind the stove. 
 Then he relaxed into a chair and listened to the tumult of 
 the storm without. Even to his unaccustomed ear it was 
 increasing in violence. The roar had gradually left the 
 tree-tops and now shook through the huge trunks, tear- 
 ing at the undergrowth, ripping long feeder roots out of 
 their hold in the soil with reports like rifle explosions. Far 
 up the canyon timber fell resonantly. But so far no second 
 tree had fallen close to the cabin. 
 
 When supper was ready, he ate little of it. His offer 
 to help wash the dishes was refused, and he settled down 
 with pen and ink again, much to Sally's amusement. 
 
THE LAND CLAIMERS 41 
 
 "Going to make your will again?" she demanded, glanc- 
 ing over his shoulder with childish freedom. 
 
 "Leaving my timber claim and twenty thousand dollars 
 to you/* he returned. 
 
 His laborious pen scratched on and on. Before long he 
 
 was quite obUvious of the storm. He was writing, as 
 
 Sally observed, to a man named Hal. She did not look 
 
 fmlher. But this was what Spencer wrote: 
 
 SiLETZ, Oregon, 
 
 December 3, 1906. 
 
 Dear Sir, — May be you heard your mother Miss FIos- 
 setta the famous actress speak of S. Spencer. I knew her 
 and your father. I have a place here in the woods worth a 
 lot of money and I need a smart young fellow to help me with 
 it for a year. I wrote to your mother and she said you was 
 done colledge and might come. So I enclose 100 dollars to 
 pay for your ticket and I will pay you a salary when you 
 come. You will have lots of chances to make money here 
 and get rich. My claim is worth 20,000 dollars but I need a 
 smart man to help me. Please come soon and next summer 
 your mother will come and see you. I was in business in 
 San Francisco till I got sick and then the doc sent me here. 
 Come soon & oblige 
 
 yrs truly 
 
 S. Spencer 
 
 Having finished this, Spencer moved the lantern from 
 its hook and reread it by the improved light. He dotted 
 his i's and crossed his t's, shaking his head once or twice 
 over spellings. Then he took out his wallet and extracted 
 
42 THE LAND CLAIMERS 
 
 from it a yellow-backed bill. This he folded and pinned 
 to the top of the letter. He thrust it into an envelope and 
 addressed it, after due reference to Miss Flossetta's epistle. 
 "There!" he remarked to Sally. "That's done.'' He 
 took up the wallet and closed it slowly. There were but 
 three more bills in it. Spencer sighed. Sally leaned over 
 the table. " My sakes ! but you do throw money around ! " 
 she exclaimed. 
 
 " Bills/' said Spencer briefly. " We gotta pay our debts, 
 you know." 
 
 She nodded soberly. "Lim White don't pay his bills," 
 she remarked inconsequently. "I've heard the comp'ny 
 over at the Agency say he was the worst ever." 
 
 "He'll pay one bill," Spencer replied calmly. "I'm 
 the best bill collector you ever saw." 
 
 She looked at him with sympathy in her deep gray eyes. 
 "I wouldn't worry over your old claim," she suggested 
 gently. 
 
 His mouth softened. "I ain't worryin'," he responded 
 mildly. "I'm just waitin'. I figure my claim is worth 
 twenty thousand dollars. And I'm goin' to collect." 
 
 "You better pile into bed," she urged him, watching his 
 flushed cheeks withaa maternal eye. "You're none too 
 well." 
 
 He laughed. " If you '11 just help me out with the cookin' 
 a while, I'll put on weight Hke any thin'. Them biscuit 
 
THE LAND CLAIMERS 43 
 
 of yours are just the thing. You wait till I get my healt' 
 back. You won't know me!" 
 
 "You get to bed," she ordered. 
 
 He took off his boots and climbed slowly into the bunk. 
 Once under the blanket, he glanced over at his hostess. 
 "You ain't awfully afraid, are ye?" 
 
 She shook her head. " But when it does blow — ." She 
 shuddered. 
 
 He watched her. She sat by the table, her bare arms 
 crossed over her bosom. When the cabin shook to a heavy 
 gust, she flinched slightly. Apart from this involuntary 
 movement, she gave no sign that she was conscious of her 
 surroundings. He fell asleep. 
 
 He wakened at a crash that seemed to mark the de- 
 struction of the cabin. He leaped out of his bunk and 
 stood in the middle of the heaving floor, staring wildly into 
 the darkness. Overhead a great weight thrust gently 
 but surely down upon the roof. He heard the rafters give 
 slowly. The table leaned over from the unseen and touched 
 his hand. From outside a swift, chill draught cut into 
 the interior like a knife. The cabin ceased to strain and 
 the draught failed. Something dripped heavily, insist- 
 ently on the floor. "Hey I" shouted Spencer. "Hey!" 
 
 There was no answer to his call and he tried to step 
 forward. His toes hit some resisting object. He turned 
 and tried to go in another direction. Again he was balked. 
 
44 THELANDCLAIMERS 
 
 He thrust his thumb and forefinger into his watch pocket 
 and drew out a bunch of matches. He scratched one and 
 held it out. 
 
 The Httle flame burnt blue, then sputtered into yellow 
 and flared up. Spencer saw a cloudy, glistening mass on 
 every side of him. Gradually he made out its character. 
 It was the dense, bushy plumage of a fir tree. In the 
 interior of this he thought he saw something white. He 
 held the match out further. It flamed up to his fingers and 
 showed him a face, pallid, stony, set in immitigable horror. 
 It was the terror-frozen face of Sally. The match went out. 
 
 With shaking fingers he lit a second match, and even 
 before it blazed up he drove his right foot forward into 
 the yielding boughs. A drop of rain extinguished the 
 feeble light, but he dived on and tore at the branches. 
 He stumbled, and as he fell his hands clutched the cloth 
 of the girFs dress. He heaved himseK up, put out his 
 groping arms and found her. 
 
 The instant his embrace tightened, she lapsed against 
 his breast with a great sigh. He gathered her closer and 
 pushed his way backward into an open space. There he 
 stood, holding her, while the gale roared fiercely through 
 the broken roof and flung dashes of rain over them. He 
 put his lips to her ear. "Hey!" he cried. "Hey! are ye 
 hurt?" 
 
 She made no response, and he slowly drew her still 
 
THE LAND CLAIMERS 45 
 
 further back till he felt the edge of his bunk against his 
 back. Then he turned and laid her down in it. He lit 
 another match and searched the darkness till he saw the 
 lantern, still dependent from the wall, which had been 
 thrust over the stove like a curled leaf. He managed to 
 strike a light and with the lantern in hand he returned to 
 throw its beam on the girPs form. 
 
 He saw that she was dressed, even to heavy boots. Her 
 skirt was wet and drops of moisture stood out in the 
 masses of her hair and on her face. Her great eyes were 
 open, turned to him with an appeal that shook him. Ter- 
 ror, pure and unmingled with other human emotion, was 
 written plainly on her features. It affected Spencer as no 
 feminine display of feeling or sensibility could have done. 
 Unacquainted with many things, he knew what terror 
 meant. As an expression it was not unfamiliar to his 
 experience of human faces. True, he did not comprehend 
 the cause of it. He understood vaguely that the fall of 
 the tree and the wreck of the cabin had had something to 
 do with it. But that was over. Terror, to his mind, had 
 only a relation to the future. And this persistence of 
 horror, this stony, wide-eyed dread, affected him with 
 qualms. He stared round over his shoulder. But he 
 could see nothing formidable, nothing that was not past. 
 He turned his eyes down upon the girl and clumsily brushed 
 her forehead with his hand. "Cheer up!'* he remarked. 
 
46 THE LAND CLAIMERS 
 
 Still her pallid face was turned to his with unwinking 
 steadiness. He raised his hand and turned the lantern 
 flame higher. Then he looked down with a humorous 
 glance. "I guess you need pettinV' he said equably. He 
 stretched out his arms and took her up gently. Her weight 
 made him gasp for breath, but he persevered. A little 
 later he found a seat and sat down, holding her tightly 
 against his breast. Her eyes had commenced to waver. He 
 looked down pityingly and shook his head at her. " Cheer 
 up!" he said softly. 
 
 Suddenly her arms went round his neck. She screamed. 
 He shivered and then, when she sobbed, he swore brokenly. 
 Before he realized it, the fit was past, and she was sitting 
 up on his knees, wiping her eyes. 
 
 "I was scared," she said. 
 
 "Poor little gell!" Spencer responded. 
 
 She caught her breath, flung out her arms and slid from 
 his knees. "My sakes!" she managed to say. She van- 
 ished into the obscurity, and Spencer heard the crunch 
 of her feet over the branches. Then he dissolved into a 
 spasm of coughing. 
 
 Morning came hesitatingly. Though the gale had 
 decreased, the forest still resounded to an occasional fall 
 of a tree. The rain poured incessantly with a lugubrious 
 and solemn sound. The daybreak showed that the cabin 
 had barely missed complete destruction. A three hundred 
 
THE LAND CLAIMERS 47 
 
 foot fir lay across the clearing, broken in two places where 
 it had hit stumps. One of the breaks was beside the cabin. 
 Spencer looked at the yellow splinters, at the huge limb 
 that arched over the cabin, and whistled. "That was a 
 close call," he muttered. He took the ax and began the 
 slow work of chopping the smaller limbs and boughs away 
 from the doorway. 
 
 In the midst of his labor Sally returned. Her face was 
 white but her eyes were clear and untroubled. She 
 silently helped him and then, the passage once clear, went 
 inside. Her voice came out: "We've got to fix up the 
 chimney." 
 
 Spencer went in and looked at the chimney curiously. 
 It was built of shakes, against the side of the shack, and 
 was lined roughly with tin from old oil cans. It had 
 bulged out ridiculously and its fall seemed imminent. 
 Following Sally's directions, he brought a twenty foot 
 piece of fir and propped it up. Then with the ax they 
 carefully drove it back into the perpendicular. "It'll 
 look worse 'n ever," was Sally's verdict when they were 
 through, "but it'll hold a while." 
 
 Spencer scanned it critically. "If it suits you it suits 
 me," he said. "But I'd hate to trust it." 
 
 She glanced at him quickly. " I believe you 'd risk any- 
 thing," she remarked. "You are n't ever afraid!" 
 
 He caught her eyes and his answering smile was troubled. 
 
48 THELANDCLAIMERS 
 
 "Oh, I'm afraid often enough/' he responded. He paused 
 and went on: "I'm scared of lots of things." 
 
 His look met hers again, a little timidly. Sally's hand 
 let the frying-pan clatter on the stove. A betraying flush 
 spread over her smooth cheeks and then, with a swift 
 yielding of her gray eyes to his, the color flooded her face 
 and throat. "You ain't afraid at all!" she miu-mured. 
 
 Spencer shook his head and went to the door. The 
 great dampness of the forest breathed in upon him; the 
 chill, unspeakable odor of vast vegetation, sunless and 
 humid. City bred, his senses attuned to the various song 
 of swarming humanity, this verdant and persistent wildness 
 of the forest, this steady, irresistible growth of everything, 
 this uppoiu'ing of life from the dark earth, culminating in 
 the gigantic struggle among the tree crests of wind and 
 storm and rain, enveloped him in a mental darkness. He 
 could pick out no familiar sound. There was no single 
 thread of human warmth in this air of conflict. There was 
 only the coldness, the humidity, the tremendous vitahty 
 of the dark timber. Its unfamiliarity did not terrify him. 
 The gale still roaring above did not frighten him. But 
 his heart was shaken. He stretched out his thin arms, 
 tentatively, and threw his uneasy glance out into the rain- 
 beaten shadows. His arms trembled and his eyes wavered. 
 Deeper than the mystery of the forest, colder than the 
 sunless green of the firs, vaster, far more awing, was the 
 
THE LAND CLAIMERS 49 
 
 mystery behind him in McCarthy's cabin. He put them 
 together, the kindred secrets of his environment. "Gee!" 
 he muttered. "I ain't up to the weight of it! I had n't 
 ever ought to have come here." He stared into the writh- 
 ing thicket of alders. His thin cheeks were on fire. His 
 eyes blazed with a man's desire to overcome, to fetter, to 
 subdue. Suddenly he bent over in a paroxysm of cough- 
 ing. When he got his breath again, he shook his head in 
 renunciation. "She ain't never seen a mariy^ he com- 
 muned with himself. 
 
 Sally came to the door presently and announced break- 
 fast. Spencer nodded without meeting her eyes and came 
 in. He sat down to the table among the debris of broken 
 boughs and started to eat hastily. At the end of the 
 meal he looked up to meet Sally's glance. 
 
 "You ain't feeling well," she said warmly. "I'd like 
 to cook you something you'd relish." 
 
 Once more her girlish face flushed deeply. He started 
 to answer her and refrained. Sally reached out her firm, 
 brown hand and laid it on his thin one. "I'd just love 
 to cook you something you'd like," she repeated quietly. 
 
 He managed to Uft his eyes. She glowed. Her strong 
 figure, warmed by an inward fire, dominated him for an 
 instant. Then, as a wave ebbs, her face became pallid 
 and her arms fell lax upon the table, outstretched towards 
 him. "I was so afraid!" she said slowly. "And you just 
 
50 THELANDCLAIMERS 
 
 smiled I I thought you were weak as a cat; but I guess 
 you picked me up Hke a pillow and tucked me into that 
 bunk. You're strong !'' 
 
 He swept his eyes over the littered cabin and then 
 brought his gaze back to her face. Something of the chill, 
 untouched forest was in it; something of the sunless 
 vitality of the firs. Deeper than all, lay her wordless 
 appeal to him, the cry of her pure heart for a mate who was 
 not afraid, who could take a place beside her in this vast, 
 shadowy struggle. As he slowly comprehended the truth, 
 his thin face and meagre frame took on strength and 
 fullness. He had only to put out his hand and take hers. 
 His swift imagination brushed in the picture with vivid 
 strokes. He saw himself lean forward. He felt his arms 
 go out to this strong, waking woman. 
 
 The unsoftened truth struck the colors from his sight. 
 He looked at Sally with dilated eyes. "I ain't up to it!" 
 he croaked. "I — I'm too old. I ain't man enough! 
 Lemme go back to my claim!" He rose to his feet. A 
 queer, grim smile twisted his lips. He leaned over the 
 passive girl and patted her hand. "I guess Old Man 
 Peterson's claim is about my size," he mumbled. "Lim 
 White picks his party, don't he?" 
 
 Sally's face suddenly grew ruddy. She seized on the 
 humor of his speech with a relief she did not understand. 
 "My sakes!" she exclaimed. "What a joker you are!" 
 
THE LAND CLAIMERS 51 
 
 Spencer covertly glanced at her several times while he 
 put on his jacket and boots. But Sally's eyes were veiled 
 again. The impenetrability of the forest had reasserted 
 itself. He shook her hand in matter of fact fashion. 
 "Much obliged for the grub and the help," he said simply. 
 "I was about all in when you found me." 
 
 "Going back to the claim?" she demanded. 
 
 " I 'm goin' to Siletz," he answered. " I gotta mail these, 
 letters, you know. The storm's over." 
 
 "The storm's over," she assented, gazing at the tree- 
 tops, still lively in the wind. "But the trail 's bad. And 
 mind the river!" 
 
 "I guess I'll make it all right," he replied cheerfully. 
 
 As he turned the bend in the trail, he looked back. 
 Sally stood by the leaning doorway of the wrecked cabin, 
 and waved her hand to him. He returned her gesture and 
 plodded on. Stumbling up the ascent to the crest of the 
 hill, he stopped to breathe. "I'm old," he muttered to 
 himself. "But I'd like to ha' married her!" His re- 
 nunciation, fully comprehended, staggered him. He 
 turned his pinched face to the clouded sky. "I — I ain't 
 much," he confessed simply. "But I get it in the neck 
 every time. But it would n't be fair to the gell! And 
 she's — she's a fine, good gell!" 
 
CHAPTER IV 
 
 WHILE Spencer was pursuing his rugged way to 
 the Agency, from which the great Siletz Reserva- 
 tion gets its name, Sally McCarthy was busy getting the 
 partially ruined cabin into habitable shape. The fact 
 that it still rained heavily, with frequent spurts of sleet, 
 did not deter her. She wielded the ax till she had cut 
 two new posts for the doorway, installed them capably, 
 and then took her frow and mallet to the shake-tree 
 where she split enough shakes to repair the roof. It was 
 late afternoon when she finished and had cleared away 
 the rubbish. By that time the rain had ceased and the 
 stream that tumbled down hill behind the cabin was sub- 
 siding to its usual trickle. Sally observed this and fell 
 into revery. "I'll bet the Siletz is booming," she said to 
 herself. "And Spencer will have the time of his life get- 
 ting across." She threw her broom into the house and sat 
 down on the bench, careless of the wet. Her face flushed 
 and her lips parted. Then she rocked forward, sobbing. 
 
 She had no mother. A childhood passed in rough sur- 
 roundings, a girlhood burdened with hard tasks, no com- 
 panionship and uncomprehended loneliness had suddenly 
 
THE LAND CLAIMERS 53 
 
 passed her on into womanhood. Behind her she dimly 
 felt the dull shadows of toil, ignorance and poverty. She 
 had never actually recognized her distaste for it. An un- 
 reasoning hope that all this would end happily had kept 
 her cheerful and wholesome. But the past weeks had 
 awakened in her something that rebelled against the sor- 
 did burdens she bore. She saw in a new light her father's 
 weakness and selfishness. She mistily understood why 
 her mother had died. She needed strength to lean upon, 
 somebody to soothe her, to comfort her, to take her up 
 from her dark and neglected girlhood and show her the 
 way out into the world. So she sobbed, because she had 
 no mother; the shameless, choking, agonizing sobs of 
 lonely womanhood. 
 
 When Lim White tramped out of the dusk of the 
 darkening timber to the McCarthy cabin door a woman 
 met him. His shifty eyes rested on her a moment, 
 puzzled. "My sakesT* she said clearly. "Is that you, 
 Mr. White?" 
 
 He swung his pack off his shoulders and entered. "It's 
 me," he said slowly. 
 
 "Where's Dad?" she inquired. 
 
 "He went to Toledo," he replied, shaking the drops 
 from his hat. "He said he'd be back tomorrow." 
 
 Sally sniffed. "What does he s'pose I'm doing all 
 these storms?" she demanded. 
 
54 THELANDCLAIMERS 
 
 White smiled slightly. "That's what I told him/' he 
 said. "He would n't come, so I decided I'd better come 
 and stay with you. Were you afraid last night? " 
 
 She laughed. "Ever see me afraid?" 
 
 He gazed admiringly at her. "No, I never did. I wish 
 sometimes you were afraid." 
 
 A question was on her lips, but she did not utter it. 
 Instead she smiled again and said, "Hungry?" 
 
 While she prepared the meal. White sat in the shadow 
 and watched her. Contrary to his custom, he did not 
 smoke but merely stared ahead. If Sally noticed this 
 she made no remark until supper was on the table. Then 
 she looked over. "Come on," she said briefly. "Your 
 supper is ready." 
 
 "It did n't take you long," he observed. 
 
 She handed him a plate of biscuits. " I did n't want to 
 keep you too late on the trail," she replied. "It's five 
 miles anyway to the Walterses, and it's going to be 
 pretty dark." 
 
 He stared at her, fork upraised. "I was figuring on 
 staying here to-night," he mumbled. 
 
 "That's awfully, kind," she answered. "But I don't 
 need you. Dad will be along to-morrow and I can get 
 through to-night all right. Have some coffee? " 
 
 He gazed furtively at her, but said nothing till he had 
 eaten his fill. Pushing back his plate he pulled out his 
 
THE LAND CLAIMERS 55^ 
 
 pipe and lit it. "I'll make up my bed on the floor/' he 
 said abruptly. "Then if your father comes along in the 
 night he can have his bed." 
 
 "I thought you said he was not coming until to-mor- 
 row," she responded. 
 
 "He might come to-night, though it isn't likely," he 
 said, with curtness. "You know your old man. Never 
 can tell when he'll turn up." 
 
 Sally sniffed. " Don't worry about me," she remarked, 
 taking his dishes off the table. "You just toddle on your 
 way. I ain't afraid." 
 
 White's eyes narrowed. "The trail ain't in fit shape to 
 travel by dark," he said quietly. "I told your father I'd 
 stay here to-night." 
 
 She appeared deaf. True, she glanced out the window 
 and saw that it was already dark. But she turned and 
 took up his pack and held it out. "Let me help you on 
 with it," she said calmly. 
 
 He thrust his chair back with one impulse of his leg 
 and laughed. "I think I'll stay, Sally," he said. "I 
 really could n't leave you alone to-night. You're actually 
 pretty. You've grown a lot lately." 
 
 She hesitated. He did not divine her thoughts. The 
 hospitality of the timber, which demanded that she wel- 
 come him to a night's lodging, was somehow made void 
 by an unformulated distaste to his presence. Custom 
 
56 THELANDCLAIMERS 
 
 was strong upon her; more than that, she knew what 
 would be said if she refused to harbor a traveler. And 
 the most experienced timberman did not use the trails 
 after nightfall. But his smile forced her decision. She 
 swung the pack up to him. 
 
 He pushed it aside, laughing. "Look here, girl," he 
 said soothingly, " you are n't going to put me out on the 
 trail a night like this. I'd lose my way." 
 
 The last word died on his lips and his smile faded. 
 Something in Sally's manner announced that a new 
 period had arrived. He tried to laugh again, and failed. 
 Her calm face enraged him. For the first time in their 
 acquaintance she caught a glimpse of the animal beneath 
 his studied pose. His lips drew back slightly from his 
 teeth, and he put out a wiry hand and clutched her arm. 
 "I think I'll stay," he said tensely. "You're too nice a 
 girl to be rude, Sally." 
 
 She shook his grasp off with a strong twist of her fore- 
 arm, and this time it was she that smiled. "My sakes!" 
 she said coldly. "Is that the way you ask for lodgings? 
 What manners!" She lit the lamp. 
 
 White reached out both arms. "Look here," he per- 
 suaded. "I've wanted a chance to talk to you for a long 
 time, Sally. I mean it." 
 
 He thrust himself forward but she escaped him. His 
 voice dropped a couple of notes. "See here, Sally," he 
 
THE LAND CLAIMERS 57 
 
 pleaded, controlling himself with apparent effort, "I was 
 talking to your father about you. I have something to 
 say." 
 
 She looked at him calmly. "YouVe got to go away,** 
 she said firmly. "I won't talk to you to-night." 
 
 He scanned her for an instant's hesitation or faltering. 
 But she kept her gray eyes upon his, and her tones were 
 clear. "You had better understand, Mr. White," she 
 continued, " I 'm going to throw you out if you don't go." 
 
 He laughed jubilantly. "Try it!" he roared, and 
 plunged across the room towards her. 
 
 He brought himself up with an oath. The blade of 
 an ax glittered above the girl's head. She faced him, 
 head thrown back, shoulders tense, one booted foot in 
 advance of the other. In her eyes he saw a sudden, cold 
 passion that withered his heart. He essayed to retreat, 
 but the table was in his way. As he edged along it, his 
 voice rose shrilly. "Don't do it, Sally! Don't do it! I 
 just wanted to tell you I loved you and wanted you to 
 marry me!" 
 
 His harsh tones merged in the creak of the opening 
 door. McCarthy, blinking in the light, stood like a 
 statue at the entrance, taking in with swift glances the 
 scene he had broken in upon. But he said nothing, 
 though White, afraid to take his eyes from the gleaming 
 weapon over his head, flung out wild gestures of pleading 
 
58 THE LAND CLAIMERS 
 
 for an intercessor. Whether he knew or did not know 
 that it was the girl's father who had opened the door, he 
 dared not turn his head. Sally, flashing one look upon 
 her parent, let the ax descend an inch. There it swayed 
 slightly, delicately poised, flashing softly in the lamp's 
 light. 
 
 The old man drew his left foot over the threshold and 
 still uttered no sound. His shrewd eyes comprehended 
 his daughter's attitude, the defencelessness of the man. 
 Had she already struck — once? With a slow expiration 
 of his breath he seemed to settle into repose, hand on the 
 door-latch; his wet face fell into studied expressionless- 
 ness. He waited. 
 
 In the silence that enveloped them. White breathed 
 heavily. His right hand, with which he had vainly 
 signaled behind his back for help, was drawn up to his 
 hip. His parted lips slowly took on a bluish tinge. He 
 aged, moment by moment. Extreme decrepitude took 
 the place of wild passion. He seemed to shrink, to become 
 thin, pinched. His husky voice croaked into the stillness 
 of the room. "I was in fun." 
 
 Seizing her victory on the instant, Sally flashed a smile 
 upon him, portentous, overmastering. "My sakes!" 
 she said clearly. "What a joke!" The ax flashed down- 
 ward. White, stooping, holding his hands above his 
 head, ran blindly across the room as McCarthy stepped 
 
THE LAND CLAIMERS 59 
 
 silently out of his path, and disappeared into the darkness 
 without. Sally recovered the ax easily and threw it into 
 the corner. "Hello, Dad,'' she said coolly. "Want some 
 supper? " 
 
 The old man nodded and closed the door. As he took 
 off his pack, his daughter put the frying-pan on the stove 
 again and opened a tin of fruit. "That White is too 
 fresh," she remarked. 
 
 McCarthy, seated at the table, scowled at his food. 
 He seemed on the point of saying something. But he 
 ate in silence. Then, filling his pipe, he looked up. "I 
 wisht ye'd hit him," he said obscurely. 
 
 Sally's face darkened. "That was only a joke," she 
 said tartly. 
 
 Her father frowned. " Lim White don't take jokes — 
 like that," he said harshly. He paused, then continued: 
 "He'll make trouble for us." 
 
 Sally rattled the dishes in the pan before answering. 
 Then she sniffed. 
 
 "He'll make trouble," McCarthy repeated morosely. 
 "That's the kind of fellow Lim is." 
 
 " I ain't afraid of him," she remarked. 
 
 Her father got up and crossed the room for a match. 
 "We ain't in any shape to fight him," he growled. "He'll 
 go to the Gov'nment, and then we'll be in a fix." 
 
 Sally whirled round to stare at her father. "You 
 
60 THE LAND CLAIMERS 
 
 haven't gone and witnessed for Lim White again, have 
 you?" she demanded. 
 
 McCarthy stirred himself to wrath. "What business 
 is it of yours?" he raged. "I guess I know niy own busi- 
 ness. But you keep clear of gettin' Lim mad." 
 
 The old man suddenly found himself in a new position. 
 His daughter was staring at him with dry, burning eyes. 
 The verdict he read in them was a blow to his lifelong 
 sense of superiority to his family. He winced and shook 
 his head. "If it wan't a joke," he mumbled, "of course 
 I don't hold with Lim. But Lim 'ud know better 'n to 
 speak to my daughter anyway but in a joke." 
 
 Sally's eyes fell. "Of course it was a joke," she an- 
 swered quietly. 
 
 Her father, after a quarter of an hour's silent smok- 
 ing, went outside. He came in again to say, "Lim 's 
 gone up the trail, I guess. Pretty dark, too." Then he 
 betook himself to bed, mumbling something about being 
 tired out. When he was asleep, peaked face to the rafters, 
 Sally slipped out of the door into the night. An hour 
 later she came in again, face swollen with crying. But 
 her hour of soHtude had strengthened her. Her glance 
 rested with pity on the old man. Then it took in the in- 
 terior of the shabby cabin. "I've got to keep Dad out 
 of trouble," she whispered to herself. Against this re- 
 solve she set another. "I'm done with Lim White. He 
 
THE LAND CLAIMERS 61 
 
 thought I was a chicken. He'll find out Tm grown up 
 and can take care of myself." 
 
 But as sleep approached and she suddenly saw a vision 
 of an ax whirling forward from her hand against a man's 
 snarling face, she shivered and buried her head under the 
 blankets in a very panic of fear. She wished for Spencer's 
 smiling, assured face. He would protect her, though she 
 did not know how. Then she blushed in the darkness 
 and was asleep before the color died from her cheek. 
 
CHAPTER V 
 
 SPENCER tramped the ten miles to the Agency, 
 mailed his letters, spent the night at the wretched 
 hotel and returned to his homestead the next day. He 
 passed McCarthy's in the afternoon. Sally was not 
 visible and he did not stop. As he neared his own place, 
 the rain, which had held off a few horn's, commenced to 
 descend once more. He reached his cabin wet through 
 and weary beyond expression. But his temper was more 
 cheerful. He was in no perplexity as to what he must do. 
 The next morning he began a rigid course of training. 
 Of this a principal part was kitchen labor, with the result 
 that he accumulated the following week a store of eata- 
 bles of varying digestibility. By the use of his rifle, he 
 gathered enough game to salt down a kegful. A deer 
 which he shot down the canyon furnished him with fresh 
 meat, which he ate half raw, after the recipe of the old- 
 school fighting man. 
 
 I The effect, if not startling, was calculable. Each morn- 
 ing found him a little fresher, his muscles a little stronger, 
 his vitality increased. Though his face did not fill out. 
 
THE LAND CLAIMERS 63 
 
 Spencer knew he was gaining weight, and rejoiced. Two 
 weeks later, when the packer footed it from McCarthy's 
 with a letter, Spencer received him with a gust of chaff- 
 ing and good-humored jesting that was soon to lead to 
 the report along the trail that he was "queer/* 
 
 The packer gone, he took the letter into the shanty 
 and opened it with a case-knife. He read it without 
 difficulty. 
 
 Wallingford, Ont., 
 
 Dec. 11, 1906. 
 S. Spencer, Esq., 
 
 Siletz, Oregon. 
 Dear Sir, — My mother has spoken of you and your 
 knowing my father. While I have not heard from her I'm 
 sure she would approve of my accepting your kind offer and 
 I shall start for Oregon on the C. P. R. next Saturday. As 
 far as I can find out I ought to reach Siletz by Monday next, 
 two days before Christmas. 
 
 I shall hope to fill my duties with you acceptably and prove 
 a good assistant to you as well as a satisfaction to my mother, 
 who I know sets a good deal of store by my getting along. 
 
 If you could have somebody meet me at Siletz, a guide or 
 somebody, I will go right to your ranch. 
 
 Very truly yours, 
 
 Harold T. Marini. 
 
 Spencer sat with the letter in his hand. He meditated 
 for a long time. Then, by the aid of an almanac, he 
 figured the date of the young man's arrival. At the end 
 of an hour he considered it settled that he would have 
 
64 THE LAND CLAIMERS 
 
 to be at the Agency the day following, if he were to meet 
 the stage from Toledo. "I gotta start at daylight," he 
 said to himself. "I guess I better clean things up a 
 little." 
 
 In the waning light he plunged into the work of tidy- 
 ing up the slovenly cabin. It was a hard task, and he 
 had to confess, two hours later, that his efforts had been 
 misdirected. In wrath he swore that the youngster 
 would have to make the best of it. Then he turned into 
 his bunk and tumbled about till four o'clock. He ate a 
 cold breakfast, strapped on his pack-sack and started 
 out, lantern in hand. As he swung into the main trail at 
 McCarthy's, he saw a light through the open door. He 
 stopped and looked in. Sally was busy over the stove; 
 at the table her father and Lim White sat earnestly dis- 
 cussing some subject. Unobserved, Spencer passed on, 
 his lips set in an ugly line. 
 
 On the long, rough trail to the Agency, his thoughts 
 persisted in returning to one matter of inward debate: 
 the character of the boy he was to meet. He tried to 
 recall his father's face and form, but failed. Only the 
 fair and roguish countenance of Flossetta Marini came 
 to his evocation of memory. Dwelling on that, Spencer 
 revolved many things in his mind. He saw again him- 
 self, in the heyday of boisterous youth; he viewed the 
 many-colored picture of the life he had led — the hard. 
 
THE LAND CLAIMERS 65 
 
 exacting, dangerous, care-free existence which had sud- 
 denly lost purposelessness when the dashing, wholesome- 
 hearted Flossetta had danced into his dazzled vision. 
 She was the real lady. He had worshipped with direct- 
 ness. She had given him her frank friendship — and 
 married Hal Marini, the debonair and worthless fellow 
 who had left her as airily as he had married her. Spencer 
 summed up all his knowledge and experience of her in 
 the muttered phrase, "She was a good gell!" 
 
 When he reached the river, roaring over the riffles laden 
 with the rains of yesterday, he got upon the crazy ferry. 
 While crossing, he was suddenly seized with a fit of in- 
 tense embarrassment. He almost turned back. Walking 
 up the road across the fields to the post-office he fumed. 
 "I dunno what to say to the kid," he murmured. 
 
 Harold Marini, one eye on his little luggage and 
 the other on the vile road which he had just come from 
 Toledo, was thinking thoughts quite different. No doubt 
 existed in his mind as to his reception or the success he 
 was to enjoy in his new life. He received the information 
 tendered him by the stage driver with some condescen- 
 sion, his mind persistently portraying scenes of bril- 
 liancy in which he eclipsed all the matter-of-fact plodders 
 of the frontier. The picturesque setting of the Indian 
 Agency did not waken more than passing interest, and 
 when he found, on inquiry, that S. Spencer's place lay 
 
66 THELANDCLAIMERS 
 
 some ten or eleven miles across the river he did not hesi- 
 tate, after brief questions as to the general route, to leave 
 his trunk at the store in charge of the packer, who prom- 
 ised to bring it in when the trail was better, and start off 
 with his suit-case. Consequently, when he met a small, 
 dark, oldish man trudging up from the ferry, he nodded 
 good-humoredly and was about to pass on. 
 
 But Spencer, for he it was, did not miss the initials on 
 the suit-case and rightly read "H. T. M.'' to mean Hal 
 Marini. With some difficulty he managed to halt the 
 young man. Then he took off his hard felt hat, wiped 
 his forehead and stared at the newcomer with many mis- 
 givings. "Are you lookin' for Sim Spencer?" he said 
 awkwardly. 
 
 The young man nodded. "That's where I'm bound," 
 he answered. "About ten miles, is n't it?" 
 
 Spencer swallowed. "About that," he said briefly. 
 " Did n't you expect to meet him? " 
 
 "I really don't know," was the rather impatient 
 reply. 
 
 "I think he intended to meet you," Spencer said, with 
 still greater difficulty. "But of course he'll be glad to see 
 you. I was coming to meet you myself." 
 
 This seemed to astonish Marini somewhat and he 
 stared. Spencer felt that he must say something defi- 
 nite. "You would n't know me, of course," he went on. 
 
THE LAND CLAIMERS 67 
 
 "You ain't seen me since you was a little feller. But" — 
 he strove for a pleasant falsehood — "I guess I *d know 
 Hal Marini anywhere." 
 
 Harold Marini shook the offered hand, and his face 
 expressed many emotions. Fearful that the young man 
 would say something embarrassing to both, Spencer set 
 his hat firmly on his head and went on : "I was just com- 
 ing in to meet you. But I knew you the minute you 
 came round the corner. Well, I'm glad to see you. But 
 this is a rough country, and I don't know how you'll like 
 it. If you don't cotton to it, why, no harm's done. We'll 
 see if we can't locate you somewhere else." 
 
 By this time Hal had recovered the use of his wits. 
 He smiled and tried to express his sense of obligation. 
 "By Jove, it was good of you to send for me," he said 
 rapidly. 
 
 "I dunno," Spencer answered slowly. "It's awful 
 rough country. Now you're used to better things. 
 Mebbe you better not tackle it." 
 
 As he said this, he viewed the other's inches with ap- 
 proval. Mentally, he made a note that he carried his 
 hands too high and did n't get the full swing of the arm. 
 But, all in all, the impression of cleanness, of good health, 
 of steady nerves, of youth, pleased him. He warmed 
 slightly. "But it ain't so bad, after all," he pursued, not 
 observing his companion's efforts to speak. "And I 
 
68 THELANDCLAIMERS 
 
 ain't goin' to let you strike out again till you see my 
 claim. It's got timber on it that's worth twenty thou- 
 sand dollars cold. Lots of 'em round here; we'll fix you 
 up with one. Then what '11 your mother say?" He 
 beamed. 
 
 "I say, that sounds pretty fine," was the response. 
 '* Don't worry about me, Mr. Spencer. I'm tough as a 
 knot. I'll enjoy it, I tell you." 
 
 Spencer's thin cheeks glowed. "That's the talk," he 
 said quickly. "And I'm glad you've come. I've got 
 lots for you to do." He stopped suddenly, doubtfully. 
 "You may n't want to do 'em," he went on, less heartily. 
 "But they gotta be done!" 
 
 He picked up the suit-case and started on down 
 towards the ferry. Marini followed him. As he trudged 
 down the rough road, the stranger's spirits sank. The 
 small, weazened man ahead of him did not meet with his 
 preconceptions of the Sim Spencer his mother had written 
 about gushingly some years before. Somehow he did not 
 fit in with the picture of his lovely and famous mother, 
 moving amid fine people, delicately dressed, living in a 
 perfumed, tempered atmosphere. To his eye, Spencer 
 was coarse, uncultivated, uncouth, even (he hardly ad- 
 mitted to himself) "tough." While they passed on down 
 to the shining river, he was half of a mind to stop and 
 call the bargian oE on the spot. But then — it was a 
 
THE LAND CLAIMERS 69 
 
 bargain, — even a kindness. He grimaced at the back 
 of his benefactor. 
 
 The ferryman nodded to Spencer with a curt "Find 
 him already?" and pushed off into the stream. Spencer 
 set the suit-case down, and Hal promptly seated himself 
 on it. The current caught the unwieldy scow and it 
 tugged at its cable. Marini stared up-stream at the 
 river tossing between its rugged banks, and then at his 
 companion. In this closer scrutiny he saw more clearly 
 than ever that his employer was a queer stick. The 
 peaked features, hollow cheeks and meagre frame did 
 not fit into the scenery of green mountains, rugged hills 
 and rushing river. He thought he detected on the ferry- 
 man's saturnine countenance a sort of simple contempt 
 for Spencer. He resented it. And experiencing that 
 feeling, meeting Spencer's dark eyes, he felt suddenly 
 drawn to him in a generous impulse of his youth. He 
 smiled, nodding at him. "By Jove! this is great!" 
 
 The elder smiled in answer. "We live in the timber," 
 he said; "right in the woods. You'll find it kinda 
 lonesome." 
 
 "How's the trail?" the ferryman put in abruptly. 
 "Wild Bill tells me it's in bad shape." 
 
 "None so good," admitted Spencer, with a faint air of 
 connoisseurship. "But it's been worse." 
 
 The man nodded, gazing over his shoulder at the 
 
70 THELANDCLAIMERS 
 
 shore they had left. "It's a fright, I'll bet," he said 
 briefly. 
 
 Hal took it up. "That road in from Toledo!" he ex- 
 claimed. "I thought we'd never get through. I was 
 sure we'd spill!" 
 
 "Did n't you?" asked the ferryman, simply. 
 
 "No, but I walked a ways." 
 
 Spencer wagged his head. "You'll get used to it," 
 he said. "I thought I never would. But then it's 
 different when you got a claim and have an interest 
 in things." 
 
 "You got the Old Peterson place?" the ferryman de- 
 manded brutally. 
 
 Spencer flushed. "Yes." He looked appealingly 
 at the young man. "They make fun of me," he said 
 humorously. 
 
 Again the sudden impulse to protect took hold of the 
 other, and he nodded. "We'll see," he affirmed w^armly. 
 "There are two of us, now." 
 
 The tone caught the ferryman's ear. He scanned the 
 young man's clean bulk with new interest. "You going 
 on Peterson's claim?" 
 
 Hal nodded. The ferryman looked blank; then he 
 shook his head. "Lim White is pretty smart, they say," 
 he remarked. As the scow scraped upon the shingle, he 
 stared at his passengers. "I dunno," he said, apparently 
 
THE LAND CLAIMERS 71 
 
 to himself, and stared after them as they climbed up the 
 bank to the road. When they vanished he shook his 
 head again. "Lim's missed fire somewheres," he mut- 
 tered. His face brightened as he set out for the other 
 shore. 
 
 The two men traveled along the road for a short dis- 
 tance. Then they left the mire and crossed a swamp, 
 stepping from tussock to tussock, resting at times on 
 the bulk of a log. The other side of this they crossed a 
 stream on a fallen cedar, and started up the steep face 
 of a hill. Hal Marini found himself getting ashamed. 
 Spencer, with a certain clumsy ease, made little of the 
 rough going, but he was carrying the suit-case, strapped 
 on top of his pack. When they paused for breath, the 
 young man saw that his companion was becoming ex- 
 hausted. He wished to take the load himself, but he did 
 not know how to announce the fact that he feared the 
 big, greasy straps would spoil his coat. So he was grate- 
 ful when Spencer, sitting on a big root, sighed and re- 
 marked: "I don't see how we're goin' to get this valise 
 in much further. We ain't struck the rough part of the 
 trail yet." 
 
 "It's awfully heavy," Hal explained. "I stuck a lot 
 of clothes in it and then filled it up with books. Thought 
 you might n't have many books out here." 
 
 " That 's right, we have n't any. But if we can only 
 
72 THE LAND CLAIMERS 
 
 get it to McCarthy's, we can leave it there and come 
 back after it. McCarthy's is only a mile from my 
 claim." 
 
 "I can get some clothes out to wear," Hal suggested. 
 
 Spencer observed the young man's neat suit, his soft 
 felt hat and heavy shoes. "Yer hat and shoes is all to 
 the good," he remarked. "But overhauls and a blue 
 shirt '11 beat the rest of it." 
 
 "I've got a blue flannel shirt in the suit-case," he said. 
 "I've got a pair of corduroy trousers in there, too, just 
 for this." 
 
 Spencer meditated. "Mebbe you better get them on 
 right away," he said presently. 
 
 The change was made, and they pursued their toilsome 
 way to the crest of the hill. Thence their road led de- 
 viously through a slender park of chittim and alder, 
 dipped down through a canyon's head and plunged into 
 the dark gloom of the forest. Now and then there opened 
 before the young man's weary eyes a vista of the inter- 
 minable and profound timber, stretching suddenly away 
 to the remote and dim horizon. Once, from the huge 
 shoulder of a hill, he saw below him the dark green of 
 some valley, a waving lake of tree crests, dotted by the 
 towering spikes of dead cedars that rose gray and wan 
 out of the depths of vegetation. Twice Spencer halted 
 him to look at a blaze on a tree. "This is a corner," he 
 
THE LAND CLAIMERS 73 
 
 affirmed. "It's one township this side, another township 
 the other." And Hal, staring up at the dull yellow mark 
 on the tree, hearing no sound but the whisper of the firs, 
 seeing nothing but the profound shadow of the forest, 
 wondered and gained a fleeting glimpse of the vastness of 
 the wilderness where great divisions were marked by 
 rough cuttings on the heavy bark of a lonely tree. 
 
 Two hours later Sally, splitting wood in front of her 
 father's cabin, saw two men coming along the trail from 
 the Agency. She immediately decided that the younger 
 one, in a clean flannel shirt and easy tan shoes, must be a 
 cruiser of one of the big companies. The fact that he 
 carried a suit-case on his back amused her. She leaned 
 on her ax and watched them wind through the brush. 
 When she recognized Spencer, she pursed her lips and 
 then relaxed them in a smile. " I just hope he has got a 
 friend in a big company," she said to herself. "Then 
 he'll show Lim a thing or two." 
 
 As they came up, Spencer lifted his hat. "Hello, Miss 
 McCarthy ! How 's the biscuits? " 
 
 "Baking," she replied. "Had anything to eat this 
 week at your place?" 
 
 He grinned. "I'm just takin' in my new pardner," he 
 announced. "Miss Sally, shake hands with Hal Marini. 
 Hal, this is Miss Sally McCarthy. She makes the best 
 biscuits in the Siletz." 
 
74 THELANDCLAIMERS 
 
 The young man took off his hat and stepped forward. 
 Sally put out her firm, cool hand and shook his hospi- 
 tably, but her eyes sought the face of the older. He met 
 her glance squarely. "He has me beat, has n't he?" he 
 laughed. "I guess he's got the weight, all right." 
 
 Hal stared politely and then picked up the suit-case. 
 Spencer shook his head. "We'll leave it here," he said. 
 "Then we'll have a good excuse to come down and get 
 a square meal." 
 
 Sally smiled. "That's right," she said genially. "You 
 boys are welcome any time." She caught Spencer's eye. 
 "You have n't been around lately," she went on. 
 
 "I've been training," he said briefly. "When I 
 come round I like to be able to stay, no matter who's 
 here." 
 
 She tossed her head and looked at his companion. 
 "You better come in and have a bite," she suggested. 
 ''Dad's gone to Newport to-day. He didn't start till 
 late because the tide would n't be low till afternoon." 
 She explained to Hal, while Spencer lugged the suit-case 
 into the cabin, " You know they go to Newport part way 
 on the beach, and we have to watch the tides." 
 
 Marini was interested and showed it. "I never had 
 any notion of what was out here," he said. "You know 
 I'm an Easterner and all this is new to me." 
 
 "Raised in the East, Hal, not an Easterner," corrected 
 
THE LAND CLAIMERS 75 
 
 Spencer, coming back. "His mother lives in California, 
 Miss Sally. She's a famous actress." 
 
 Hal winced, ever so slightly. Sally noticed it; her level 
 gaze traveled curiously from the young man to the elder. 
 "Mr. Spencer never told me you were coming," she 
 remarked. 
 
 " 'N' I wrote the letter right in this house, too," Spencer 
 returned. "Gee! what a stormy night that was!" 
 
 Hal's look of inquiry evoked explanations from Sally. 
 "I was all alone here," she said, "and I went up and 
 fetched Mr. Spencer over to stay with me. After we were 
 asleep the wind blew down that big tree lying there, and 
 if it had n't been for him I'd have gone crazy, I guess." 
 Her warm eyes rested on Spencer. 
 
 He wagged his head. "It was a great night, you bet. 
 I s'pose next time you're afraid, you'll be askin' Hal 
 here to come over and protect you." 
 
 She replied coldly: "I guess not. I'm sort of par- 
 ticular about people looking after me." Thus she avenged 
 herself for the look of shocked prudery on the young man's 
 face. "I guess the grub is ready," she went on. 
 
 They filed into the cabin and sat down at the table. 
 Spencer made a great pretense of hunger, but in reality 
 ate nothing. Hal, after trying politely to help his hostess 
 serve and being rebuffed, settled down to satisfy a good 
 appetite. Now and again he would secretly examine 
 
76 THE LAND CLAIMERS 
 
 Spencer's face, with occasional glances at the handsome 
 girl who ignored him to put delicacies in front of the 
 elder. 
 
 Sally spoke up tartly. "You ain't eating a thing, Mr. 
 Spencer. Why don't you get an appetite? " 
 
 Spencer mumbled a reply. The girl turned to Hal. 
 "You better look after him," she warned. "He don't 
 eat enough to keep a wood-rat alive. And if he don't eat, 
 he won't get well." 
 
 "I'm all right," Spencer put in hastily. "Don't listen 
 to her, Hal." 
 
 "He can't even cook!" Sally went on. 
 
 Marini looked puzzled. "Cook!" he repeated. "I 
 did n't suppose that any man could cook!" 
 
 Sally gazed at him and then said abruptly, "Lim White 
 certainly does pick his party!" 
 
 Spencer glanced at her pleadingly. The silent reproof 
 went home and Sally laughed, a trifle loudly. "My 
 sakes!" she remarked. "How I do run on! I'll bet Mr. 
 Marini thinks I 'm the Hmit. But then I 'm timber bred. 
 I am a fright, ain't I?" 
 
 Hal met her eyes frankly. "I guess I'm a tenderfoot," 
 he admitted. "But if I can't cook, I know beauty when 
 I see it." 
 
 Sally blushed and then was furiously angry at herself. 
 She ordered them to leave, and they departed, laughing. 
 
THE LAND CLAIMERS 77 
 
 As they went up the trail in the chill evening twilight, 
 she stood in the doorway and watched them. Spencer 
 turned once to wave his hand. She answered gaily enough, 
 but a moment later she was explaining to her cracked 
 mirror that she hated both him and his companion and 
 the timber and everybody and everything. Then she went 
 out and deliberately flung what was left of her batch of 
 biscuits into the brush, stating aloud that she did n*t 
 wish to be reminded that she could cook. Half an hour 
 later the cabin was swept and bare. She locked the door, 
 put the ax by her bedside and went to sleep. 
 
CHAPTER VI 
 
 WHILE Sally slept, Spencer sat by the stove in his 
 own shack and explained to his new employe 
 that there was n't much to do. Every now and then he 
 stopped in the midst of his uneasy monologue to cough. 
 "To tell the God's honest truth," he said finally, "I've 
 got several things I want you to do. First, you must 
 get acquainted with the country and the way they do 
 things. Ye see, this ain't town, nor eastern farm, nor 
 California ranch. This is Oregon timber. There ain't 
 any money in making gardens or raising wheat or plant- 
 ing fruit trees. All the money is just in timber. And 
 there's lots of it. I dunno just how much we got on this 
 claim. D'ye s'pose ye could measure up and find out?" 
 
 Hal elevated his stocking feet and smiled. "I thought 
 you might want something of the kind," he answered. 
 "So I spent a week with a lumberman I know in Ontario 
 and I guess I can figure out how much your trees will 
 scale." 
 
 Spencer nodded. "They'll do you, every time," he 
 went on, "unless you know how much you've got." He 
 suddenly leaned forward. "I ain't told anybody round 
 
THE LAND CLAIMERS 79 
 
 here," he said hesitatingly. "But I guess I got done on 
 this claim. At least, that's the talk in the Siletz. You 
 heard how they joshed me? ' 
 
 Hal nodded. 
 
 "I wasn't goin' to let on to you about that," Spencer 
 continued, with some diflSdence. "Usually I make my 
 own bed and don't kick if my feet get cold. I ain't kickin* 
 any now. I guess this claim '11 be worth a good twenty 
 thousand, all right. And if it don't scale that, I want to 
 know. I kin make it worth that. Just lemme get my 
 healt' back." 
 
 The younger man watched the nervous gestures, the 
 uneasy movements, the shrewd expressions flitting across 
 Spencer's face, with but languid interest. He did not know 
 what to make of it all. But his next two months' salary 
 lay in his pocket in the shape of a yellow-backed hundred- 
 dollar bill. He had tried to insist that he had not earned 
 it, but Spencer had persisted. To change the subject he 
 yawned and got up. "That's a queer girl, that McCarthy 
 girl," he remarked. "She'd be handsome if she was 
 taken in hand and dressed and educated. I suppose she's 
 as ignorant as a bird." 
 
 Spencer welcomed the opening, and with the siu'e hand 
 of the man bred to deal with all sorts and conditions of 
 men, struck straight at the young fellow's interest. " She 's 
 smarter than she lets on," he said carelessly. "And I 
 
80 THE LAND CLAIMERS 
 
 would n't get gay round her. She'll enjoy making a fool 
 of you, sure. Then the whole Siletz Reservation will 
 laugh." 
 
 Having sowed this seed, Spencer went to bed. He 
 professed not to hear the gentle sniff with which Hal 
 greeted his advice, and resolutely closed his eyes to the 
 fact that before retiring the young man, weary as he was, 
 shaved himself. He apparently roused himself with 
 difficulty a half-hour later to express a wish that they 
 had brought the suit-case with them. "I guess you'll 
 have to toddle over and get it to-morrow," he said sleepily. 
 "Too bad, too." 
 
 "Don't worry," Hal responded. "It is n't far, and I'll 
 fetch it the first thing in the morning." 
 
 He woke to stretch himself and sat up to see Spencer 
 already busy over the stove. He called out good morning, 
 gathered his clothes under his arm and dived for the door. 
 Spencer watched him go and smiled. When Hal returned, 
 shivering and wet, he met the elder man's quizzical look 
 with a hearty, "That creek 's cold, all right." 
 
 " I used to be after me morning shower myself," Spencer 
 said. "But I don't do it any more. I ain't so nifty as I 
 used to be." He sighed. 
 
 "I see you can make biscuits," was the response. "I 
 can eat ten of them, and all the bacon you can fry. I 
 wonder what that girl meant by her remark when I let 
 
THE LAND CLAIMERS 81 
 
 out that I could n't cook? Something about 'Lim White 
 picks his party. ' " 
 
 "I got this claim from White," Spencer replied, sitting 
 down at the table. "Seems he's located a good many on 
 this propitty. Most of 'em left or petered out some way. 
 And — " 
 
 Hal looked across interestedly. "And what?" he 
 demanded. 
 
 "And they sort of think Tm in the same class," Spencer 
 finished gloomily. 
 
 This remark was received in silence. Breakfast over, 
 Hal prepared to go back to McCarthy's for the suit-case. 
 "I'll get it and then I'll be ready for work," he said. 
 
 The rain drizzled down as he struck into the creek 
 bottom, and the chill of the air made him draw his rain- 
 coat closer about him. As he trudged along, he glanced 
 around with curiosity. The huge firs seemed to please 
 him. Once or twice he stepped out of the trail to measure 
 a trunk with a pocket tape-line. Each time he would look 
 slowly up the ponderous shaft of the tree to the lacey 
 crest, above which clouds floated slowly before the south 
 wind. While the rough trail wound in and out among 
 the knobs and knolls hidden in brush and covered with 
 deep moss, he observed the facility with which his feet 
 found each step. " By Jove ! " he said to himself presently. 
 "Now who'd have thought it?" He closed his eyes to 
 
82 THE LAND CLAIMERS 
 
 see whether he could still follow the dim trail that seemed 
 so easy. He stumbled and laughed crestfallenly. He had 
 discovered (what timbermen find out at night) that walk- 
 ing is half seeing. He meditated this and, while fixing it 
 in his mind, emerged on the main trail, marked by the deep 
 rut where the pack horses had trod. A few steps more 
 brought him within sight of the McCarthy cabin. 
 
 Sally was at the door, in the act of hanging the dishpan 
 up to drip. Her coiled hair was sparkling with raindrops, 
 and her short skirt gave evidence of a recent tramp 
 through the wet brush. Hal took off his cap and bowed. 
 
 She nodded and wrung out the dish-cloth. Then she 
 drew back so that he might come in. "It's wet this 
 morning," she remarked. "I didn't expect you'd come 
 for your grip." 
 
 "I've got to get used to the rain some time," he 
 answered. 
 
 "That's the least of our troubles," she responded. 
 
 He sat down awkwardly and fumbled his cap. "I don't 
 see how you can have many troubles," he said indiffer- 
 ently. "Out here in the woods I suppose you Uve the 
 simple life." 
 
 She wrinkled her brow over the phrase. " I don't know 
 what you call it East," she said slowly. "But I don't 
 call the timber simple." 
 
 His slight stare called for more explanation, wTiich she 
 
THE LAND CLAIMERS 83 
 
 did not feel like giving. She kicked a chair over to the 
 stove and sat down, crossing her legs easily so as to hold 
 one booted foot out to the warmth. "So you're Spencer's 
 partner?" she remarked. 
 
 "I'm his hired man." 
 
 She glanced at him amusedly 
 
 He assumed a dignity that broke down under her frank 
 smile. "Oh, well," he said carelessly, "I'm a sort of old 
 friend. He offered me a good chance, and so I accepted 
 it. He seems a good sort of fellow." 
 
 "I thought you just said he was an old friend," she 
 remarked, with a hint of rebuke in her tone. 
 
 "You mean my saying that he seems a good sort of 
 fellow?" 
 
 " Yes," she said. "If he's your friend, what does that 
 matter?" 
 
 He stared in honest amazement. " I did n't say any- 
 thing against him," he corrected her stiffly. 
 
 "You better not," was her tranquil answer. 
 
 Curiosity got the better of him. "Why not?" he 
 demanded. 
 
 Her gray eyes met his. "He's my friend," she replied 
 briefly. 
 
 He smiled. "I guess he's proved a good friend to me," 
 he confessed. " I suppose that should prevent my saying 
 anything that even sounded like criticism." 
 
84 THELANDCLAIMERS 
 
 She nodded and swung the other foot up to the fire. 
 "You ain't any friend of Lim White?'' 
 
 "No," he said. "There's where I can speak safely. I 
 don't even know him. Who is he?" 
 
 "He's a locator," she answered. "He located Mr. 
 Spencer on his claim." 
 
 "Does that make him a friend, or an enemy?" 
 
 She shook her head, as much as to say that she could 
 not answer directly. " But that claim is n't worth all that 
 Mr. Spencer thinks it is." 
 
 "I guess that that's where I come in," he said thought- 
 fully. " He was wanting me to look it over and estimate the 
 timber for him." He glanced up. "What do you think?" 
 
 "I think Mr. Spencer isn't strong," she said curtly. 
 "He told me he was here for his health." 
 
 Marini got up. "I must be getting back. I've got to 
 find out what I've got to do." ' 
 
 She rose to her feet, too, displaying her lithe figure with 
 unconscious grace. "I tell you," she said. "I would n't 
 say much. Lim 's got too many — too many — friends. 
 He's quite prominent in the Siletz. He's been too smart 
 for them all." 
 
 "You think Spencer is n't very smart?" he demanded. 
 
 "I think he needs a good cook," she said smiling. 
 " And when you boys get starved, just drop in. Dad and 
 I'll be glad to see you." 
 
THE LAND CLAIMERS 85 
 
 On his way back to the shanty, the young man bent 
 his brows over the problem he was confronted with, finally 
 dismissing it as "hot air,'* a convenient phrase borrowed 
 from his college slang. He greeted Spencer, set his suit-case 
 down by the stove and opened it. Later he put three 
 books down on the table. " These will help me decide how 
 much timber there is on this claim," he announced. 
 
 Spencer nodded. "You just spend your time on that," 
 he said. " I got a lot of training to do. I 'm taking some 
 exercises the doc told me to use." He picked up the ax 
 and went out. Pretty soon Hal, looking out the window, 
 saw his employer swinging the steel into a fallen log, 
 despite a heavy rain that veiled the surrounding timber 
 like a gray texture. He watched him a moment and then 
 opened his books. "I suppose I better be earning my 
 salary," he said to himself. 
 
 Neither he nor Spencer was aware that back on the 
 hill, crouched amid the reeking brush, Sally was staring 
 out over their clearing, her eyes bliured with tears. On 
 her tense face was an expression of anxiety, of passionate 
 rebellion, of profound solicitude. Spencer finally dropped 
 his ax and leaned on the helve wearily. " He ought n't 
 to do it!" she panted. "He'll kill himself!" She slipped 
 back slowly and vanished, after one long look at the un- 
 conscious man below. It was the second time that morn- 
 ing that she had spied upon him. 
 
86 THE LAND CLAIMERS 
 
 Half an hour later she crossed the clearing, waved her 
 hand to Spencer, and waited for him to join her at the 
 door. "You're real nice,' ^ he said. "Come in!" 
 
 She stopped him with a gesture. "No. Do you know 
 what day to-morrow is?" 
 
 Spencer puzzled and then looked at her curiously. 
 "You don't mean to tell me it's Christmas!" he 
 ejaculated. 
 
 "It is," she replied shortly. "Dad's in Newport and 
 of course he won't be back. Could n't you help me cele- 
 brate? I'll fix up a good dinner over at our house, and 
 you and your friend could come over and we could try 
 to have a good time." 
 
 Spencer considered her with twinkling eyes. "I can't 
 answer for myself," he responded with a grin. "But I 
 can answer for Hal. And as he's afraid of you and won't 
 go without me, I s'pose I'll have to come." 
 
 She smiled. "I'll count on you, then," she said and 
 swung off down the trail. When Spencer went in and 
 told Hal, the young man whistled. " D 'ye know, I clean 
 forgot about it's being Christmas and I never sent mother 
 a thing!" 
 
 "That's all right," was the dry answer. "She'll re- 
 member you just the same. The women never forget." 
 
CHAPTER VII 
 
 CHRISTMAS morning came in a smudge of mist. 
 When Hal woke up in his hard bed and turned over 
 so that he could see the dim gray that marked the window, 
 his thoughts were dull. He had slept well and he was 
 wide-awake. But there was little spring to his nerves 
 this morning and he wondered when Spencer would get 
 up and start breakfast. Presently, as there was no sound 
 from the other bed, he sat up and looked over. The bunk 
 was empty. 
 
 He got up, dressed hastily and started the fire in the 
 little sheet-iron stove. When it gave signs of going well, 
 he opened the door and looked out. The clearing was 
 filled with gray mist. Through it he saw vaguely the 
 clump of alders that marked where the trail crossed the 
 creek. There was no sign of Spencer. He went back into 
 the cabin and shut the door, and there came to him the 
 vague suggestion that he ought to get breakfast ready. 
 Probably Spencer was out somewhere cutting wood. It 
 would only be decent to have the meal ready for him. He 
 went to the shelf that served as a pantry and scanned the 
 store of canned goods, sacks of meal and papers of bacon 
 
88 THELANDCLAIMERS 
 
 and dried fish. He was disgusted with himself that he 
 could not cook. 
 
 Spencer came in laden with a big mass of Oregon 
 grape, which he threw down on the table with a sigh of 
 weariness. 
 
 "I see you've got breakfast ready," he said cheerfully. 
 "I smell the water boiling." 
 
 Hal smiled, in spite of his chagrin. "I think I must 
 learn to cook," he announced. 
 
 "It pays," was the response. "Probably you would 
 cook lots better than I do, if you only learned. But it's 
 little sport, after all." 
 
 He jerked down the frying-pan, stirred up the hot 
 cakes and Hal wandered around the shack listlessly. 
 Suddenly he looked over at his employer. 
 
 "This is Merry Christmas," he said. 
 
 "Sure, I got them greens there for you to take over to 
 McCarthy's." 
 
 "You better take them yourself," Hal replied. "She 
 thinks more of you than of anybody else. She would n't 
 give a rap if I took them. Anyway, you got them." 
 
 Spencer glanced over and shook his head. "Sally is a 
 good friend," he said simply. 
 
 "I'd like to know how it is you have so many good 
 friends," the young man commenced idly. Then he 
 paused, awkwardly. 
 
THE LAND CLAIMERS 89 
 
 "I've always been sort of lucky that way/' Spencer 
 responded. "But I guess your mother was about the 
 best. I wish she was here to enjoy Christmas with you.'* 
 
 "I'm glad she isn't," was the brief rejoinder, and 
 Spencer winced at the suggestion that the brilliant Flos- 
 setta would have been bored and uncomfortable. " Well," 
 he remarked, "I was merely thinkin' she'd like to see 
 
 you." 
 
 After breakfast, Spencer shaved and dressed himself 
 with a certain care that Hal found annoying. A gorgeous 
 cotton shirt, a high white collar, no waistcoat and belted 
 trousers struck him as ridiculous on a rainy day in the 
 heart of the forest. When Spencer added to these habili- 
 ments a pair of yellow gloves and patent leather shoes, 
 his disgust found voice. 
 
 "You aren't going to wear all that finery, are you?" 
 he demanded crossly. "They'll think you're crazy I 
 I'm going to wear my old clothes." 
 
 Sim was evidently hurt. "It don't do no harm to 
 dress up for the ladies," he averred, "and Sally is goin' 
 to have just as smart and clever a party to-day as any 
 gell, so far as I'm concerned." 
 
 "I'll bet she'll be wearing her father's boots and a 
 pair of overalls," was the reply. "And I'm certainly 
 not going to all the trouble of polishing up and shining 
 bright for these timber folks." 
 
90 THE LAND CLAIMERS 
 
 There was no answer to this. Spencer squeezed him- 
 self into a very small, light-colored overcoat, gathered 
 up the grape boughs in his arms and signified that he 
 was ready. Hal, somewhat ashamed of himself, put on 
 his coat and followed him out of the door. All the way 
 to the McCarthy cabin he dragged behind, growling and 
 sarcastically wondering whether he should not have put 
 on his dress suit. To these marks of temper his employer 
 paid no attention whatever, trudging on over the ir- 
 regularities of the trail with a determinedly complacent 
 air. 
 
 As they turned into the main trail and came in sight 
 of the cabin, Marini stopped. "Look here," he snorted. 
 "It's only half -past nine. Do you mean to say we're to 
 inflict ourselves on our hostess at this unearthly hour in 
 the morning? " 
 
 Spencer turned round, his dark eyes resting gently on 
 his companion. "Forget it," he said. "This is Christ- 
 mas day. Sally will be glad to see us any time. And we 
 can help her fix things up. See? " 
 
 They passed on, entered the McCarthy clearing and 
 arrived at the door. Sim knocked loudly. A moment 
 later he was shaking Sally warmly by the hand, calling 
 out Merry Christmas with great energy and trying to 
 drag Hal in by main force. Once inside he dropped his 
 armful of grape, jerked off his coat and gloves, smiled 
 
A moment later he was shaking Sally warmly by the hand " 
 
 . . Page 90 
 
 
 
THE LAND CLAIMERS 91 
 
 inclusively and said: *'Miss Sally, I never saw a prettier 
 gell in my life than you are this minute." 
 
 Hal stood by the door, staring. Between them their 
 hostess glanced from one to the other, smiling frankly 
 over the compliment. She was dressed in a gray gown, 
 sleeveless, close-fitting, displaying her pale, smooth 
 throat and firm shoulders. Her hair was coiled loosely 
 on her head. Beneath the hem of her skirt Hal saw she 
 was wearing slippers. In some astounding way she was 
 a vision of conscious and serene beauty. It was not ten 
 o'clock in the morning, amid the reeking timber of the 
 wilderness, and she smiled at him with a perfection of 
 allure, a sudden and incredible loveliness that made him 
 gasp. Under his eyes a faint, pure color rose in her 
 cheeks. With an unconscious gesture of innocence and 
 shyness she put her hand to her throat, smiling timor- 
 ously. Spencer broke the silence with his husky voice. 
 "Hal brought you that Oregon grape, Sally." 
 
 She smiled at him with relief. "TU bet I know who 
 got it," she said clearly. "It was Sim Spencer, not Hal." 
 She stooped and gathered it into her arms, careless of 
 the drops of moisture on it. Holding it like a shield 
 before her, she glanced over its protecting fronds at the 
 young man. "Put up your hat and coat," she said hos- 
 pitably; "I'll let you stay a while." 
 
 "Sure, she'll let you stay," Spencer repeated humor- 
 
92 THELANDCLAIMERS 
 
 ously. He hung his own coat and hat on a peg and osten- 
 tatiously rolled a cigarette, while Sally took the greenery 
 and scattered it over the table. She looked over at him 
 as he stood in gaudy shirt-sleeves, lighting the cigarette. 
 "I thought I told you never to smoke them any more," 
 she called. 
 
 "This is Christmas," he retorted, "the one day in the 
 year when I smoke cigarettes and don't cook. What you 
 got for dinner, Sally?" 
 
 She came back to him with a smile. "I've got a first- 
 class piece of venison," she announced. "Wild Bill came 
 by yesterday and he had a deer and he gave me some. 
 It's cooking now." 
 
 "Who else is coming?" Spencer went on. 
 
 "There's Ted Bailey, from over in 9-10, and Bob Wil- 
 liams and that school teacher who's just come in over in 
 10-11 and you and your friend here. That's all.'* 
 
 "And whoever comes along the trail," Spencer added 
 slyly. 
 
 She nodded. "Of course. But I guess not many '11 be 
 traveling on Christmas day, especially as it's raining." 
 She glanced out of the window. "There's Ted and Bob," 
 she announced quickly. "Let 'em in, Mr. Spencer." 
 
 Sim opened the door and welcomed the newcomers 
 who tramped in unceremoniously, threw wet coats and 
 hats down in the corner and greeted Sally cheerfully. 
 
THE LAND CLAIMERS 93 
 
 Both seemed rather abashed by the splendor of her ap- 
 pearance, but Williams merely stated that he supposed 
 Sally was "dressing for six," inferring that she had to 
 represent the good clothes and possible beauty of all her 
 guests. 
 
 Half an hour later another knock on the door led 
 Sally, who with skirt tucked up was basting the venison, 
 to shout: "Come in. Miss Reynolds!" 
 
 "The new homesteader just come in," Ted Bailey 
 whispered to Marini; "used to teach school somewhere 
 back East." 
 
 But when the door opened, it was not a woman who 
 appeared. Instead a tall, stooped man, with a heavy 
 pack on his back, thrust a tousled head in and bellowed, 
 "Merry Christmas, everybody!" 
 
 "Come in, Scout!" Sally ordered, coming forward. 
 "Come on in and put your pack down and stay to 
 dinner." 
 
 "I dunno. Miss McCarthy," he replied slowly. 
 "Looks to me as though you had enough to feed now." 
 He swung his pack down, however, and was soon tucked 
 away in a corner, whence he spoke but once. "Miss 
 McCarthy," he said slowly, "I'm glad I happened by. 
 You sure do look Christmassy and fine." She flashed a 
 smile at him and he was content. 
 
 At half-past ten Sally, after continual glances out of 
 
94 THE LAND CLAIMERS 
 
 the door, opined that Miss Reynolds was lost. "Her 
 place is just across the section," she told Hal. "But 
 she's new to the country and probably she's afraid. I 
 wish one of you boys would go and fetch her." 
 
 Bailey and Williams volunteered for this tender ser- 
 vice and disappeared across the clearing, the sound of 
 their voices drifting back clearly and cheerfully. They 
 returned in a few minutes with Miss Reynolds between 
 them. "Found her coming," Williams proclaimed, 
 "and she says the Peterses are over at her place." 
 
 Sally smiled. "Why didn't you bring them along?" 
 she inquired of her guest, who was trying to extricate 
 herself from a waterproof. 
 
 "They're on their way to the Agency," Miss Rey- 
 nolds replied, patting her hair. "And you ought to see 
 Mrs. Peters!" She laughed uneasily. "I don't think 
 she'd come." 
 
 Sally turned to Spencer. "It's up to you," she said. 
 "You just go over and get Mr. and Mrs. Peters and 
 bring them here. I guess there's enough dinner for 
 everybody." 
 
 Miss Reynolds smoothed the front of her skirt self- 
 consciously. "I don't believe she'll come," she sug- 
 gested. "She's got no clothes to wear." 
 
 Sally sniffed magnificently. "Don't worry about 
 clothes," she said. "I guess Mrs. Peters '11 come." She 
 
THE LAND CLAIMERS 95 
 
 glanced at Spencer, who was putting on his coat. "You 
 just tell her this ain't style," she said simply; "this is 
 dinner." 
 
 Sim departed and the guests settled down to the in- 
 terminable gossip of the big forest. Even Miss Reynolds, 
 comfortably aware of appropriate attire, knowledge of 
 society and experience in Christmas dinners, contributed 
 an eager mite to the general fund: "I saw Mr. White 
 yesterday," she said, "and he told me nearly a hundred 
 people were coming in to take up claims." 
 
 "Who's locating them?" demanded Ted Bailey. 
 
 "It isn't Lim," the scout said from the corner where 
 he was peeling potatoes. "It's some fellow from Clats- 
 kanie. He was in here all summer, looking over places 
 and getting relinquishments from people that had trouble 
 and couldn't prove up. I understand — " he talked on 
 amiably till Sally, noting Hal Marini's puzzled expres- 
 sion, called out: "Look here, Scout. How far have you 
 come this morning?" 
 
 "From Newport," was the answer. "I went up to 
 Depot Bay, too, and came in by the other trail." 
 
 "I thought as much," Sally commented drily. "You 
 would n't talk at all, but would sulk in a corner if you 
 hadn't walked at least twenty miles before breakfast." 
 The scout, abashed, devoted himself to his potatoes. 
 
 "You're a newcomer, too, aren't you?" Miss Rey- 
 
96 THELANDCL AIMERS 
 
 nolds said to Hal, with a faint air of approval of him, as 
 if his lack of acquaintance with the timber and the people 
 were a hardly won virtue. " Where 's your claim? " 
 
 He moved over beside her on the rough couch and 
 nodded. "I'm new, but I've got no claim. I'm with 
 Mr. Spencer." 
 
 "Spencer is on Old Man Peterson's place," the scout 
 interjected irrepressibly. 
 
 Miss Reynolds went on, pleasantly: "Is it a very 
 good claim? I'm so interested in claims. You know 
 I 've been told that mine is the best but one in the whole 
 Siletz, and I'm just dying to know which is the best one. 
 Now, tell me, is it yours? " 
 
 Hal shook his head. "I've got no claim. I'm just 
 working for Mr. Spencer." 
 
 Miss Reynolds was puzzled. Later she approached 
 her hostess and asked whether Mr. Spencer was "the 
 little fellow with the tin collar," this reference, as Sally 
 justly surmised, being to Mr. Spencer's holiday attire. 
 Ignoring Sally's frown. Miss Reynolds went on: "And 
 to think that that nice young fellow works for him! 
 Don't you suppose we could get him a claim, or some- 
 thing? There are lots of claims round here, that he 
 could have." 
 
 Sally nodded. "It is too bad," she said coldly, "And 
 he has such a nice mother, too I '* 
 
THE LAND CLAIMERS 97 
 
 This was a little beyond Miss Reynolds and she with- 
 drew, murmuring: "I didn't know about his mother.** 
 While she was sitting down beside Hal again, a long 
 operation owing to the fact that he insisted on arrang- 
 ing the bearskins comfortably, Sally called the scout out- 
 side. "Scout,** she said severely, "if you open your 
 mouth again before there *s a hot potato ready to put in 
 it, I '11 send you on without your dinner. What business 
 of ours is it whose claim Spencer has? or how good it is? 
 My sakes! but you talk farther than you walk. Now 
 hush!** 
 
 The scout smiled modestly, saying: "Trust you to 
 remember the man that can walk. But what have I 
 said, now, to hurt your feelin's?** 
 
 Sally frowned. "Be good enough to shut up I*' she 
 remarked. 
 
 The scout returned to the cabin and presently drew 
 Ted Bailey aside. "Look here, Ted,** he said awkwardly, 
 "I*ve made Sally hot by talkin* too much, she says. 
 Now I don't aim to talk about what*s none of my busi- 
 ness, but Miss Reynolds she says that she wants to know 
 whose claim Marini has, and you and I and Sally know 
 he has n*t any claim at all, and so naturally, as she asked 
 the question, I answered out so — ** 
 
 Bailey laughed. "She's lookin* at you now. You 
 better be careful.'* 
 
98 THELANDCLAIMERS 
 
 At this moment Spencer threw the door open and called: 
 "Here's the Petersesl" 
 
 " I hope she found some of my clothes to put on," said 
 Miss Reynolds earnestly. Then she gasped. 
 
 Mrs. Peters, a small, graceful woman, walked into the 
 room and shook hands with Sally, while her husband fol- 
 lowed, ducking so as not to strike his pack sack on the 
 top of the doorway. Once inside he beamed impartially 
 around and boomed "Merry Christmas!" 
 
 As they stood there Hal wondered. Mrs. Peters was 
 dressed in men's clothes, blue flannel shirt, heavy trousers 
 tucked into laced boots and a sou'w^ester on her head. 
 And yet she breathed an atmosphere of delicacy, of refine- 
 ment. She was introduced to him immediately, and he 
 observed that she neither apologized for her garb nor 
 gave it any attention whatever, except to tuck her heavy 
 gauntlets into her belt before reaching up to relieve her 
 husband of his pack. Peters slipped the straps carefully 
 from his shoulders and swung the canvas sack down. His 
 wife dived into it and extracted therefrom a bundle that 
 proved to contain a baby. It blinked sleepily in the light, 
 murmured peevishly at being disturbed, and promptly 
 closed its eyes. 
 
 "Now how's that for a homesteader?" said Peters. 
 "Ain't he a peach? And I packed him in yesterday from 
 the place, up hill and down dale, and he never had a word 
 
THE LAND CLAIMERS 99 
 
 to say except to kick my shoulder blades when it was time 
 for meals." He dropped into a chair and looked at Miss 
 Reynolds. "I see you got here all right," he remarked 
 politely. 
 
 "Yes," she answered shortly. 
 
 Within the next hour half a dozen different people 
 knocked on the door, threw in a word of greeting and 
 passed on, in spite of the fact that to each one Sally 
 gave a special, warm invitation to stay and have dinner. 
 Finally Mrs. Peters was heard to say: "Sally, the next 
 man must stay. Every time anybody knocks you put 
 three extra potatoes in the pot, and now we've got 
 spuds enough for twenty." 
 
 "Here's ten of the twenty," said the scout, brighten- 
 ing up. "How long till dinner?" 
 
 "Ready now," Sally announced. "You boys get the 
 table ready." 
 
 This was soon done by putting the two tables the cabin 
 contained end for end, with a series of boxes that grad- 
 uated into sizes too small for anything but seats. The 
 little party crowded around this and the venison was 
 served; a sudden, purposeful silence reigned while they 
 proceeded to eat. 
 
 When dinner was over, the men went out into the 
 clearing with their rifles and shot at a mark. Half an 
 hour later the women trooped out and joined them. Some- 
 
100 THE LAND CLAIMERS 
 
 body suggested a bonfire, and Sally directed this exuberant 
 energy towards the demolition of a big stump. Augers 
 were got, holes were bored, coals thrust in and the bellows 
 put to work. But this was cold comfort, and Ted Bailey, 
 drawing aside Williams and Marini, suggested that it 
 would do no harm to anybody and much good to a few 
 if they knocked to pieces the fir trunk lying near the 
 cabin and burned it. "I don't believe Sally likes to see 
 it, anyway," Williams agreed. "It came too near to 
 knocking the house down. Let's get to work." 
 
 So they got axes and saws and went at the huge log 
 with such zeal that it was soon cut into pieces that could 
 be dragged into the open, where before long a yellow flame 
 was roaring upward in the natural chimney formed by 
 the little opening among the towering firs. The heat made 
 the ground steam, blackened the hoar moss on the vine 
 maples, and sudden yellow patches far up in the green of 
 the trees marked the passage of the parching draught. 
 
 Seated on the little bench by the doorway, Sally and 
 her guests watched the fire and enjoyed its warmth while 
 the sun settled behind the dull clouds and the winter 
 night descended. When there was still an hour of light, 
 Miss Reynolds and the Peters family departed under the 
 escort of Bailey and Williams. The scout took his pack 
 and stalked away in another direction, and Hal, glancing 
 over at the silent Spencer, wondered aloud whether they 
 
THE LAND CLAlMEll?^ W\ 
 
 had not best be making for home. Sim nodded. " We 've 
 had a good time, Sally," he murmm-ed. "I never ate so 
 much in my life." 
 
 She smiled at him radiantly. "You ought to eat my 
 cooking for about three months," she said. " And then — " 
 
 "Gee! I'd hunt him up I" Spencer finished rapidly. 
 They both laughed. With a sudden sigh she turned to 
 Hal. "I wish you'd let me teach you to cook," she sug- 
 gested. "It would be so nice if you could!" 
 
 Hal stared at the dying flame of the bonfire. "That's 
 very kind of you," he answered. "But I don't see just 
 what good it would do me to learn to cook. Spencer is 
 cook enough for us." 
 
 Her silence brought his eyes to her. She was standing 
 in the shadow, her white arms resting on the back of a 
 chair. In the dusk her beauty was less defined, less in- 
 sistent than it had been in the stuffy cabin. Involuntarily 
 he compared her with Miss Reynolds. He ended by 
 wishing that Sally had what he could only term "educa- 
 tion." He stared at her. 
 
 A sudden chill air struck across the little group and 
 Marini glanced round. The fire had died into a mass of 
 embers that sputtered in the falling mist. Sally still 
 stood with arms and neck bare to the wind. And back in 
 the darkness, bent over his cold hands, huddled together 
 as if in a mortal chill, he saw Spencer. With a trace of 
 
/aCi2;;:':^H-fe.IJ^ CLAIMERS 
 
 alarm he stepped forward. Sally caught his quick glance 
 and turned swiftly. Spencer waved them back with airy 
 manner. "What's the matter with youse?" he de- 
 manded facetiously. "You look as if you saw a ghost!" 
 
 Sally laughed and Hal joined her. They went in. 
 Spencer, as soon as they vanished, bent over again, caught 
 in the deadly grasp of pain. His hand crept slowly up to 
 his breast and finally rested, shaking, over his heart. 
 
 It was pitch dark when he came into the cabin. Sally 
 was sitting by the stove, her arms around her knees. 
 Across from her Hal was smoking solemnly. "You sure 
 look homelike," Spencer remarked, repressing a shudder 
 of pain. He sat down in the corner and lit a cigarette. 
 In the shadowy room the open door of the stove allowed 
 strange flickers of light to play back and forth, illuminating 
 the crude hangings on the wall, the twisted mirror glass 
 suspended from a rafter, the pile of worn magazines on a 
 shelf. And the three of them dreamed and said nothing. 
 
 "We'd better be going home," Hal suggested finally. 
 
 "Too late," said Sally. "Nobody travels after dark." 
 
 "Nonsense," he said sharply. "That's just a hospi- 
 table excuse." 
 
 "It's true," Spencer interjected. "Nobody goes on 
 the trail after sundown. It's too dangerous." 
 
 "That's true," reiterated Sally. "You boys '11 have to 
 tumble in on the floor. I guess we can fix a shakedown 
 
THE LAND CLAIMERS 103 
 
 for you. I'll be glad of company to-night." She turned 
 to Spencer. "I'm sort of homesick," she remarked. 
 
 "Where is your home?" Marini demanded. 
 
 "Here," was the curt reply. 
 
 "That Miss Reynolds is quite society," Spencer began, 
 bent on opening a cheerful subject. "I wonder whether 
 she likes it in here." 
 
 "She'll have to like it," Sally said. "But I think 
 she'll have to get rid of some of her fine notions. She 
 seems to find the Siletz pretty rough in clothes and man- 
 ners. I did n't like the way she spoke about Mrs. Peters. 
 Did you hear what she said?" 
 
 "She thought it was hardly the thing for Mrs. Peters 
 to be wearing a man's clothes," Hal responded. "And I 
 must say they looked queer." 
 
 "They were her husband's," was the quiet reply. 
 "And I suppose she thought I wasn't dressed just as I 
 ought to have been." 
 
 Spencer chuckled. "You were too pretty for her," he 
 remarked. 
 
 "Well," Hal said painstakingly, "they don't wear 
 clothes like that till evening, usually. Not that you 
 don't look very nice, Miss McCarthy." 
 
 She did not answer. Once or twice Spencer seemed on 
 the point of speech, but his voice died away in murmurs. 
 Finally he got up and stretched his arms over his head. 
 
104 THE LAND CLAIMERS 
 
 "Best get a light, Hal," he suggested. "Then we'll make 
 up a bed on the floor. I'm tired." 
 
 With a brief "good night" Sally departed to her own 
 place behind the curtains, and the men, tossing blankets 
 on the mattress tumbled on the floor, pulled off their shoes 
 and rolled themselves up. Spencer, hearing the gentle 
 breathing of his companion, stared up at the dark roof. 
 In his ears was the dull, continuous sound of the rain. 
 His thoughts were cold and comfortless. He was getting 
 old, his turbulent and fiery youth had cooled down into 
 tasteless age. There was little in the future and the present 
 was intolerable. "They despise me," he thought to him- 
 self. "I'm a chump and I've been stung, and they 
 despise me." 
 
 Later his thoughts were of Sally. He wondered at her 
 beauty, her loneliness, her self-sufficiency. "If I was 
 fifteen years younger, I'd make her marry me," he said 
 to himself. "She's a true gell, a fine gell. She's too good 
 for all these teachers and soft-handed crooks. She's too 
 good for Hal — but she'll be the makin' of him. And I'll 
 see that they get a square deal and some money for the 
 kids." 
 
 Having thus determined the course of the future to his 
 own satisfaction, Sim Spencer closed his eyes. 
 
CHAPTER VIII 
 
 IT was late in January. After several weeks of work 
 Hal Marini found himself on the crest of the ridge, 
 note-book in hand. He had cruised the whole one hundred 
 and sixty acres of Spencer's claim with such care as he 
 could give to a business he knew little of. Yet he had not 
 only the general features of the quarter-section, but the 
 number of trees upon it, the average of each and the 
 probable timber it would yield. He had just added the 
 totals. He was staring ahead of him with an expression of 
 concentrated anxiety, anxiety that was mingled of many 
 things, when there was a slight noise in the undergrowth 
 twenty yards away, a sudden parting of the saplings that 
 veiled a spring whose trickle he heard dully amid the si- 
 lence of the forest. A girl stepped out upon the red bulk of 
 a fallen tree. He stared at her. It was Sally McCarthy, 
 poised like a fawn for flight. 
 
 From the chill green of the timber her slender figure 
 emerged graciously. He saw the clean lines of her maidenly 
 form, the flat curve of her hips, the loosely confined waist, 
 the firm delineation of her bosom under the blue flannel 
 shirt. Her paUid face, tinged by exposure but not colored. 
 
106 THELANDCLAIMERS 
 
 was turned full on him. He saw the red of her mouth and 
 the brown of her uncovered hair. His note-book fell to 
 the ground, unheeded. 
 
 She met his eyes timidly, and her hand fell slowly to 
 rest on a cedar bough swaying at her side. In the lifeless, 
 warmthless solitude they had suddenly come upon each 
 other, as if they were the only two people in the world. 
 And so, hardly aware who the other was, they stared 
 breathlessly, while the afternoon darkened swiftly and 
 the winter's night came on. 
 
 With a crack the rotten log on which she stood gave 
 under her weight, and she slipped down. He leaped to 
 see whether she were hurt. Her laugh rang out. "My 
 sakes!" she cried, pushing the bushes from before her 
 face, "you scared me!" 
 
 He flushed with embarrassment. " I did n't know who 
 it could be," he said haltingly, in explanation of his long 
 gaze. 
 
 She did not meet his eyes but patted her skirt down 
 over her knees. "I was just prospecting around when I 
 came out and saw you," she remarked. "But I didn't 
 know it was you, at first." 
 
 "Who did you think it was?" he demanded more 
 boldly. 
 
 "Some cruiser," she answered shortly. "What were 
 you doing? " 
 
THE LAND CLAIMERS 107 
 
 "I was figuring. By Jove! I dropped my note-book!'* 
 
 They went together to the place and stood and searched 
 in the brush till he found the missing article. He picked 
 it up and wiped the wet off it. Then, for lack of some- 
 thing better, they sat down on a log side by side. Sally 
 indicated the book with a slender finger. "Cruising?" 
 
 "Yes," he said. 
 
 "What do you make it?" she demanded simply. 
 
 He hesitated. "You don't need to tell me," she said 
 hastily. " None of my business, of course." 
 
 "We'll make it your business," was his prompt reply. 
 "I guess from what Spencer has said you're a friend of 
 his." 
 
 She nodded. "I like him. He's — he's finSy' she 
 brought out with emphasis. 
 
 "I wish you would say that of me," he ventured. 
 
 Wide-eyed she gazed at him. "You never treated me 
 very nicely and you never saved me when I was scared." 
 
 "You never gave me a chance." 
 
 She brushed this aside. " What does it figure? " 
 
 He opened to the page that held the totals. " The best 
 I can do is two million feet and odd," he replied. "And I 
 don't believe the best of it will scale more than a million." 
 
 "With stumpage at six bits, that's a scant eight hun- 
 dred dollars," she said quickly. Then she looked at him. 
 "It'll kill him!" 
 
108 THELANDCLAIMERS 
 
 "He's too tough to be killed by that," he said indif- 
 ferently. "One bad investment does n't kill a man." 
 
 "He counts a lot on this claim," she asserted. 
 
 "I suppose so." He nodded carelessly. "But he'll 
 just have to try again." 
 
 Sally pondered a while, swinging her feet. Then she 
 glanced at her companion. "I guess he'll try to take it 
 out of Lim White," she said, with conviction. 
 
 "Why?" was his immediate question. 
 
 She shook the loosened coils of hair back over her 
 shoulders and told him the whole story of the Peterson 
 place as she knew it. At the episode of the woman "who 
 died because she could n't keep the cabin warm," the 
 young man frowned. But he did not interrupt her nar- 
 ration of the vicissitudes of the many homesteaders on 
 Old Man Peterson's place from the first man down to Sim 
 Spencer, the latest. Sally did not exaggerate. At times 
 she turned aside from the direct course of her story to 
 explain that "homesteaders had to take their chances." 
 Some of the history she did not know. But the main 
 thread of it was in her last words: "Spencer wanted to 
 make a stake. He was sick, and Lim did him up. His 
 claim ain't worth anything at all." 
 
 Hal listened and at the end was silent. Finally he said, 
 "Did he ever say anything about me coming?" 
 
 She shook her head. 
 
THE LAND CLAIMERS 109 
 
 "I wonder why he brought me here," he suggested. 
 
 Sally swung herself down from the log and kicked the 
 brush aside. "I don't know," she said. "May be he 
 thought he could do you a good turn." 
 
 He gazed at her in perplexity. His thoughts swiftly 
 ran back over all the events that had brought him to this 
 spot. It occurred to him that Spencer was capable of 
 trying to help him. It was certain that the wages were 
 too high for the work he was doing. And then — there 
 was the long period wherein he had not seen his mother, 
 and in that time many things might have happened. She 
 might have needed his help in making a living for them 
 both. She might have gone to Spencer, as one she knew 
 well and trusted, and asked him to give her son a start. 
 It was true that everybody thought fortunes were to be 
 made in the Siletz. What more natural than that Flos- 
 setta Marini should think it the best opportunity for her 
 son? Hal grimaced at the trick rumor had played. He 
 was taking wages from a man who had been cheated, in 
 a country where there was no wealth but trees, and no 
 chance for a young man except in some heavy manual 
 toil. But his mother must not know and be chagrined 
 and hurt. And Spencer — well, he thought, Spencer was 
 ignorant but kind. Spencer was doing his best. He met 
 Sally's eyes and said : " I guess if Spencer 's tried to do me 
 a favor, I 'd better come back at him. My mother knows 
 
110 THE LAND CLAIMERS 
 
 him. He knew her years ago." He slid off the log as 
 though to start instantly to repay his debt to his 
 employer. 
 
 "Was yom* mother pretty?" Sally demanded incon- 
 sequently. 
 
 He was taken aback. "She's quite famous," he replied. 
 "She's the great Flossetta Marini, the actress. She's 
 beautiful." 
 
 The girl's eyes softened. "I guess Mr. Spencer is 
 doing what he thinks is right," she affirmed gently. Her 
 face grew dreamily expressive. As they pushed through 
 the undergrowth, she looked back at him. "I expect 
 your mother just loves Mr. Spencer," she called. 
 
 He gasped. "What!" 
 
 She turned her gray eyes full on him. "She must just 
 love him," she repeated. "I know I should." 
 
 "They're only old friends," he said stiffly. 
 
 She gave him a brilliant glance. "You men never 
 know how a woman feels." 
 
 As they parted on the trail, she looked at him again, 
 almost appealingly. "Are you going to tell him?" 
 
 He nodded. "I'll have to. I could n't lie to him." 
 
 Her smile was sudden and warm. "I just see Lim 
 White getting his deserts," she triumphed. Before he 
 could form a question as to how, she vanished. 
 
 His thoughts as he trudged homewards were un- 
 
THE LAND CLAIMERS 111 
 
 pleasant. The month's association with the silent, ner- 
 vous Spencer had made him feel a sort of dependence 
 on him. It hm-t him to have to prove anew that this 
 man (who was trying to do him a favor) had been cheated, 
 his faith misplaced when he trusted Lim White. Be- 
 sides, it seriously affected his own prospects. What 
 future was there for him in the employ of a man who had 
 been deceived at the very outset of his enterprise? What 
 sort of a chump was Spencer, anyway? 
 
 This brought up the question of his mother, again. 
 He remembered her as he had seen her many years ago: 
 a delicate, cheerful woman; perfumed, exuberant, caress- 
 ing. He thought that now, in her old age, she must be a 
 lively, gray-haired old lady — not elderly, like most 
 women, but beautifully old. He would like to see her. 
 But why had she been a friend to this undeniably vulgar, 
 middle-aged man? He remembered what he had heard 
 of his father. "Probably father helped him in some- 
 thing," he thought loyally, "and Spencer has always 
 had a sort of claim on mother. Well, I suppose I must 
 do my best." Abandoning any surmise that it was 
 Spencer, and not himself, that was to afford assistance, 
 he virtuously resolved to fulfil the obligations of his 
 family. 
 
 It was dark when he entered the cabin. Spencer was 
 sitting before the stove, his brilliant socks showing even 
 
112 THELANDCLAIMERS 
 
 in the dim light. He looked round when Hal entered, 
 nodded and relapsed into himself. Hal took off his wet 
 clothes and, according to custom, went to the shelf where 
 they kept the victuals. He took down a pan of biscuits 
 and opened a can of fruit. When he had prepared his 
 evening meal he remarked carelessly: "I finished the 
 cruise today." 
 
 Spencer looked up. "How much was it?" 
 
 "At most two million feet of fir. YouVe got plenty 
 of hemlock, but hemlock is worthless," he said brutally. 
 
 Spencer nodded. "That's bad." 
 
 "They say stumpage is only about seventy-five cents 
 a thousand," Hal went on. "That doesn't leave you 
 much profit." 
 
 The elder man smiled. "I paid eight hundred to be 
 located here," he remarked. 
 
 "You were badly done," was the response. 
 
 There was silence for a while. Then Spencer got up, 
 stretching his arms nervously. "I'm gainin' weight," 
 he said irrelevantly. "In about another month I'll be 
 fit." 
 
 To this Hal made no reply. He ate ravenously. 
 Spencer walked round the cramped room and then sat 
 down on the edge of his bunk. "Seen Sally lately?" 
 
 "Met her on the trail today," Hal answered. 
 
 "There's a fine gell," Spencer pursued calmly. "I 
 
THE LAND CLAIMERS 113 
 
 don't know when I ever see a gell I liked better." He 
 looked keenly across at his companion. 
 
 "She's all right for the timber," was the indifferent 
 response. 
 
 Spencer swallowed and seemed on the point of saying 
 more, but instead stared out into the dusky interior. 
 Later he got slowly into bed. "I need the sleep," he 
 said in explanation. "I'm goin' over to the Agency 
 tomorrow." 
 
 The next morning he stopped at McCarthy's cabin. 
 McCarthy himself greeted him, and they talked the 
 gossip of the reservation until McCarthy remarked: 
 "I'm going to Portland in April." 
 
 "To witness for somebody?" Spencer asked idly. 
 
 "Lim White's going to prove up on his claim over 
 Otter Rock way," was the reply. 
 
 "I'm told it's a valuable claim," Spencer commented 
 quietly. 
 
 "He's been offered twenty thousand for it," McCarthy 
 responded, puffing vigorously on his pipe. "Lim cer- 
 tainly is lucky. The company said they'd give him 
 twenty thousand for his final receipt. They'll see to it 
 that he gets his patent all right." 
 
 Sally came to the door and nodded to Spencer. Her 
 eyes glanced over her father's slouching figure and then 
 rested on the other man's meagre form. She seemed to 
 
114 THE LAND CLAIMERS 
 
 have something to say, but befofe she spoke Spencer 
 remarked: "I s'pose he did n't locate himself on it?" 
 
 McCarthy grinned in appreciation of the jest. " Lim *s 
 sure smooth. That claim belonged to old Miss' Parthe- 
 more, and Lim got her to relinquish to him just before 
 she died. It was nip and tuck whether he'd get her re- 
 linquishment filed before she was buried. Her daughter 
 was figuring on getting in, as she would if Lim had n't 
 got the paper from her ma. I guess the old lady was 
 sort of foolish. Anyway, Lim had been making up to 
 her girl, and I suppose she thought it would all be in the 
 family." 
 
 "Mr. White didn't marry her?" Spencer suggested, 
 almost in a whisper. 
 
 McCarthy smiled grimly. "No. Lim ain't that 
 variety of fool. Bet Parthemore was n't ever fair to 
 good-looking, and besides, Lim — " He broke off with 
 a savage glance at his daughter. "What you gappin' 
 at?" he demanded. 
 
 Sally ignored his querulous rebuke and looked at 
 Spencer. "Lim always picks his party," she said quizzi- 
 cally. "Whether it's timber, or a wife." 
 
 "Yes!" said Spencer. His voice was like an explosion, 
 and McCarthy stared. But Spencer's repression of 
 months had strained his temper to the breaking point, 
 and now he blazed out. "Yes!" he sneered loudly. 
 
THE LAND CLAIMERS 115 
 
 "He picks his party! And he picks old ladies and help- 
 less females and dotty old codgers! He's a gent, that 
 Lim White!" 
 
 He turned on McCarthy so fiercely that that person 
 edged along the bench with evident uneasiness. "And 
 you're goin' to witness for him," he shouted, shaking his 
 fist. "And you think he's smart! And you'd sell your 
 soul to him! And you hope to marry your gell to him! 
 And you get on your knees and pray to Lim White! I 
 know ye, ye weak-backed, snivelling, crooked-fingered 
 snipes! Ain't there a Tnan in the Siletz? Oh!" He 
 flung out clenched fists and shook with rage. 
 
 McCarthy's heavy brows drew down over his eyes. 
 "You better shut up," he said crossly. "You got done 
 up, and you've only got yourself to blame. What are 
 you going to do? I ain't seen you making any great 
 flourishes round Lim White? You seem to have swal- 
 lered your medicine all right, all right." 
 
 A queer look came over Spencer's face. The rage that 
 twisted his features passed away. His dark eyes sud- 
 denly dinmaed. He dropped his arms to his sides. In a 
 cracked voice he addressed Sally. "Excuse me, Miss 
 Sally; excuse me!" He stood for a moment, as if re- 
 covering himself, then walked slowly away and up the 
 trail. 
 
 McCarthy grumbled in his beard. "I guess he sud- 
 
116 THE LAND CLAIMERS 
 
 denly got cold feet," he surmised angrily. "He better 
 keep his mouth shut/' His tones rose wrathfully. "Yep, 
 he better keep his mouth shut!" 
 
 "I wouldn't gabble too much myself," Sally returned 
 coldly. To herself she murmured: "What a queer look! 
 I'll bet he ain't afraid of Lim." She pondered this a 
 while, reaching this conclusion: "I wonder who he is 
 afraid of?" 
 
 If she had followed Spencer round the bend in the 
 trail she would have known. Once out of sight of the 
 McCarthy's, his legs gave under him and he fell across a 
 rotten stump, clutching in agony at his breast. 
 
 Half an hour later he managed to get to his feet again. 
 "The doc was quite correc'," he muttered. He stared 
 up at a fragment of sky, caught as it were in the tree- 
 tops. "Quite right," he repeated weakly. He stiffened 
 his shoulders to his increased burden. "I gotta get that 
 weight pretty quick," he admitted. Then he took up 
 the full load of his responsibilities anew. "I ain't no 
 quitter!" he announced to a chipmunk. 
 
CHAPTER IX 
 
 HAL sat moodily in the doorway of the cabin. At 
 his employer's unexpected appearance he said 
 nothing, apart from a curt question why he had not 
 gone to the Agency. "I found out something I wanted 
 to know without goin' on," was Spencer's reply. Hal 
 looked away, nodding with an embarrassment that did 
 not escape the other's eye. 
 
 " That cruise bother ye? " Spencer remarked cheer- 
 fuUy. 
 
 Hal looked at him quickly. "I was just wondering," 
 he said. 
 
 "At me? Don't wonder at me. I'm always makin' a 
 joke, me boy." 
 
 Marini glanced round over the dreary clearing. "This 
 is a queer joke," he grumbled. 
 
 "I'm pajdn' for it," was the brief answer. "What's on 
 your chest? " 
 
 "I don't see where I come in," the young man com- 
 menced abruptly. "You send for me and pay me a 
 salary, and when I've been here six weeks the whole 
 
118 THE LAND CLAIMERS 
 
 thing goes up in the air. It is n't fair to you that I should 
 stay on. I can't be of any use that I can see." 
 
 Spencer nodded. "I see your point. You hate to 
 work for a darned fool." 
 
 A quick gesture of denial only brought a smile to 
 Spencer's face. "That's the way you feel," he said, 
 with assurance. "'Nd I don't blame ye. But I got 
 several plans, and I need ye. I ain't kickin' on payin' 
 your salary. Do you get it? " 
 
 Marini was silent a while. Then he leaned forward. 
 "Look here," he said curtly. "I'd like to know just why 
 you brought me out from the East and why you're pay- 
 ing me for doing nothing." 
 
 Spencer's face reddened slightly. "I tell ye I needed 
 a man here, and your mother let me know you was done 
 your schoolin' and I made bold to say I'd like ye here. 
 It ain't doin' ye any harm," he finished doggedly. 
 
 The discussion ended, but the elder knew that in the 
 young man's mind it was still going on. "I gotta do it 
 up brown," he said to himself, "'nd do it quick." The 
 result of this decision was that he devoted himself the 
 rest of the day to cramming himself with food in the in- 
 tervals of strange exercise with the ax. The next morn- 
 ing Hal accepted Spencer's suggestion that there was 
 good fishing in a stream a couple of miles away and de- 
 parted for it with rod and creel. Spencer insisted that 
 
THE LAND CLAIMERS 119 
 
 he fill his basket with victuals. "It*s breedin' some 
 weather," he alleged. "You might have to camp out. 
 Besides, you might lose your way." 
 
 To this the young man's response was a snort. As he 
 left he called back: "FU be back before sundown." 
 
 Spencer waved his hand and went on with his chop- 
 ping. Then a thought struck him. He hallooed across 
 the clearing: "Stop at McCarthy's and see if the packer 
 left any letters." 
 
 Hal found the McCarthy cabin empty and after a mo- 
 ment's rest went on along the westward trail to find the 
 trout stream. As he made his way quickly over the 
 irregularities of the narrow path, his thoughts were busy 
 with his present plight. He tried to explain satisfactorily 
 to himself Spencer's attitude. He tried to make some- 
 thing out of the failure of the claim, the general gossip 
 which he had heard about White. Then he wondered 
 what connection his mother had had with his being sud- 
 denly transported to this out-of-the-way spot. "Poor 
 old mother!" he thought fondly. "I suppose she im- 
 agined this was one road to fortune." He contemplated 
 this, and his heart grew lighter. He knew that other 
 men had made, were making, their fortune in the Siletz. 
 He could do it himself. Probably that was what Spencer 
 was arranging. But Spencer was easily taken in. One 
 had to look out for one's self. With youth's buoyancy he 
 
120 THELANDCLAIMERS 
 
 recovered his spirits, and when he finally came to the* 
 stream that promised sport he was once more sm-e that, 
 after all, he was at the gate of a career. He rigged his 
 rod and skirted the banks of a pool till he came to the 
 riffle. He cast his fly awkwardly but was rewarded by a 
 rise that made him forget everything in the exhilaration 
 of good fishing. 
 
 As hour after hour passed, he waded and scrambled 
 and climbed his way up the creek, regardless of time or 
 the darkening sky above the towering hills. Suddenly, 
 hauling himself up over a wind-fall, he came upon a long 
 green pool lying between two sheer, rocky bluffs. On 
 one side he saw that the water lay deep and still, with- 
 out a shallow for his feet. On the other side gray shelves 
 of rock projected under the surface from the canyon 
 wall, affording a treacherous footway. He stopped, 
 made a futile cast in the rifile at the foot of the pool and 
 then essayed to proceed along the little shelves that 
 offered foothold a few inches beneath the surface of the 
 water. For a hundred feet he made safe progress. There 
 he found himself halted. A gap of at least ten feet in- 
 tervened between him and the continuation of the ledge. 
 He was standing to his knees in the chill water and just 
 overhead an alder reached down slender fingers that 
 brushed his cap. Sounding with his rod, he failed to 
 find bottom. He could not cast his fly or even keep his 
 
THE LAND CLAIMERS 121 
 
 rod free from the overhanging growths. He turned, un- 
 willingly, to retrace his steps. 
 
 He laughed when he saw his predicament. A gentle 
 breeze had begun to blow down the canyon. The ripples 
 were at his feet and hid from view with their impene- 
 trable facets any glimpse of the shelf on which he was 
 standing, as well as the ledge he must traverse to regain 
 the shore. Remembering the gaps, irregularities and 
 slipperiness of the road he had come, he knew he must 
 trust to luck not to set his foot down and find nothing 
 but water beneath. 
 
 His thoughts were instantly changed to new channels. 
 He wondered how far up the stream he was. He looked 
 up at the sky. Dun clouds were above him, and their 
 movement told him that a heavy wind propelled them. 
 A few drops of rain struck his upturned face. Then, 
 with the suddenness of an explosion, the canyon was 
 filled with swirling rain and the pool's color changed 
 from still green to tumbled gray. Depth and shallow 
 were alike hid. He tried to change his footing. A slip 
 warned against venturing too much. With some diflS- 
 culty he twisted his head round till he could see what 
 hope there was of scaling the bluff. The alder now waved 
 its pale boughs just out of reach. As his foot slipped 
 again he leaped to catch it. A moment later he was 
 fighting his way to the surface of the pool. 
 
122 THELANDCLAIMERS 
 
 Not till then did he realize his plight. He swam to 
 the ledge and tried to climb upon it. But it was merely 
 a slippery shelf, and each time he attempted to swing 
 his body up on it his legs would dive under it, his hands 
 lost their hold, and he was compelled to swim. The 
 third failure brought hot blood to his eyes. Weighted 
 down with creel, heavy jacket and laced boots, he felt 
 his helplessness. Heaving himself up out of the water 
 for an instant he sought to determine his position. But 
 the rain veiled the pool, and in his distress he did not 
 know which was down stream and which was up. 
 
 As a last resort he tried to float and trust to the im- 
 perceptible current. As he stared up, with the noise of 
 the water drumming in his ears, he perceived that he saw 
 nothing. Even the alder, by which he should have been 
 able to discern his position, was invisible. Vaguely, in- 
 deed, he could discern the walls of the canyon. He struck 
 out again for one of them and found it was the one where 
 there was no footing. By incredible effort he managed 
 to cross the pool. To his delight he saw the alder. But 
 he could not grasp its lowest twig. He cleared his mouth 
 of water and cried out with all his strength, then sank. 
 
 The profound depths, chill, unsunned, shocked his 
 weary muscles into fresh effort. As he emerged above the 
 surface once more, he thought he heard a cry. Then he 
 felt a slight tug on his shoulder. He spun over and some- 
 
THE LAND CLAIMERS 123 
 
 thing wrapped his arms, held them in a gentle grip that 
 he could not throw off. He saw his rod floating near and 
 gave up the battle. He had become entangled in its line 
 . . . struggle was useless . . . 
 
 Sally, waist-deep at the riffle, her pole bent almost to 
 breaking, reeled in slowly. The pelting rain beat on her 
 bare head and streamed down her set face. Now and 
 then she dipped her pole and eased the reel. Once, when 
 the line slackened lightly, as though released, she bit 
 into her lip. But the line tautened again, with a jerk, 
 and she caught up a few more yards. There was a swirl 
 in the water. It grew dim and then started forth more 
 clearly in the rain-lashed pool. A dark something material- 
 ized with a surge and sank. Her line crept out, and the 
 pole gave till she had to release the reel. A moment later 
 she had recovered the lost line, and now she let her tip 
 fall slowly till all the strain was on the slender threads. 
 Then the current caught the burden and the line slacked. 
 She moved to the right a step, braced herself, and as an 
 arm rolled out of the water caught it. 
 
 For an instant the dead weight of the body increased 
 till her feet slipped on the round stones. The current 
 tugged at her. Her face set in desperation. She dropped 
 her pole and with both arms reached down swiftly and 
 heaved her catch up, out of the grip of the riffling water. 
 Then, unsteadily, feeling for each foothold, she waded out 
 
124 THE LAND CLAIMERS 
 
 on the shale half carrying, half dragging the body of Hal 
 Marini. 
 
 She let it lapse from her arms to the beach and quickly 
 rolled it face downwards. She rolled him back and stooped 
 to feel under his sodden shirt for a heart-beat. Satis- 
 fied, she knelt over him and started to rub his limbs. 
 
 He was not long in reviving. He opened his eyes and 
 choked. She watched him curiously till the purple re- 
 ceded from his face and was followed by a more healthy 
 color. "My sakes!" she said huskily. "You swallowed 
 a heap of water!" 
 
 He looked at her with dazed eyes, as he sat up. "I 
 thought I was drowned,'' he gasped. 
 
 "You would have been if I had n't been a better fisher- 
 man than you," she said, getting to her feet and wringing 
 the water from her short skirt. 
 
 He glanced around, comprehending the turbid pool, 
 the driving rain, the girl in her dripping clothes. He got 
 weakly to his feet and stared down at the creel, spilling 
 trout on the pebbles. He laughed, chokingly. "You 
 saved my life, didn't you?" 
 
 Her cool gray eyes met his. "I s'pose that's what I 
 did," she answered indifferently. "But of course I did n't 
 know it was you." 
 
 He puzzled over this. "Wouldn't you have done as 
 much for me?" 
 
THE LAND CLAIMERS 125 
 
 She laughed. " You ought to have seen the cast I made, " 
 she remarked. "I had a brown heckle and a yellow 
 coachman on. Which did you bite at?" 
 
 He threw his left hand over and caught the fly, still 
 fast in the shoulder of his jacket. Disengaging it, he 
 made a solemn examination. "The yellow coachman," 
 he announced. 
 
 She picked up her rod, which had floated into an eddy, 
 and started to reel in the line. "I s'pose you're ready to 
 go home," she suggested. 
 
 He blushed. " How far is it? " 
 
 "Three miles down the creek and two miles on the 
 trail," she replied shortly. 
 
 "Are n't you coming?" he inquired. 
 
 She snapped the leader from the line and unjointed her 
 rod. "You spoiled my flies," she remarked. 
 
 He reached into his jacket pocket and brought out his 
 flybook. "Let me replace them." 
 
 As he took the flies out with trembling fingers, 
 she watched him intently. He handed them to her, 
 and she received them without a word, afterwards 
 sticking them in her cap, which she recovered from 
 a limb. He glanced at her timidly and then picked 
 up his creel. "I'm sorry," he said, "but I ate up 
 all my luncheon." 
 
 "You don't mean to say you're hungry? " 
 
126 THE LAND CLAIMERS 
 
 He shivered. She nodded vigorously. "Poor man, 
 you're cold!" 
 
 " I think we had better be moving on/' he answered. 
 
 She gathered up her pole and kicked each foot to get 
 the surplus water from her boots. Then she turned to him. 
 "We'll have a hard time getting back in the dark, specially 
 in this storm." 
 
 "Is it so late?" 
 
 She looked up at the lowering clouds. "Almost night. 
 Come on I" 
 
 Sally led the way down the stream. They climbed over 
 logs, waded riffles and skirted pools till the darkness sud- 
 denly settled down about them, and Hal could not even 
 see the white of the rapids. Overhead the rising wind 
 roared unceasingly, shaking huge flurries of rain down on 
 them as they clambered under the high banks. The girl 
 stopped and stamped her foot angrily. "We've got to 
 camp." 
 
 "Where?" 
 
 She indicated vaguely the forest above them and dived 
 up into the brush. He followed her as best he could for a 
 few yards and then ran into her in the dark. "There's a 
 dead tree here," she told him. " Got any dry matches? " 
 
 He felt in his pocket and whistled. 
 
 " And you a smoker ! " Her contempt was deep. " Let 's 
 see what I can do." 
 
THE LAND CLAIMERS 127 
 
 He stood an interminable time, waist deep in dank 
 undergrowth, while she found the little rubber sack in 
 which she carried such necessities. The matches found, 
 she groped about on the ground till she found the crum- 
 bling dead wood she sought. Five minutes later Hal was 
 on his knees blowing the coals into flame, while Sally 
 carefully replaced in the sack the bit of candle she had 
 used for kindling. Then she took her knife and hacked 
 savagely at a spruce limb, throwing the chips over to him. 
 So they gained a fire. 
 
 By its feeble light they searched farther, and under 
 a huge fallen fir Sally picked out their camping place. 
 She scraped out the wet moss and then showed him how 
 to transport the fire to a dry place in his jacket. As it 
 gained strength, they fed it high with dry branches, 
 putting a last touch to it by an armful of salal, which 
 instantly flamed up like a torch. 
 
 The warmth thawed them both, and Hal went through 
 his pockets for crumbs of tobacco to dry on a chip. Sally, 
 smiling, drew from her rubber sack a piece of bacon and 
 a couple of boiled eggs. "We'll have quite a dinner," she 
 remarked. 
 
 He refused to share it with her, and she did not press 
 him, swallowing the last bite without apology. Then she 
 built up the fire with knots torn from a dead sapling 
 and curled herself under the log, feet to the blaze. Hal, 
 
128 THELANDCLAIMERS 
 
 managing a cigarette, sat on the other side of the fire 
 and smoked. 
 
 Above them the gale thundered its deep note. The 
 ground trembled beneath them as the timber yielded to 
 the blast and careered to its fall with bellow and crash. 
 Once the log that sheltered them gave creakingly and she 
 smiled, unsteadily. "We may be sorry we^re under it," 
 she remarked. 
 
 He sought her tremulous eyes. "There'll be two of 
 us," he comforted her. 
 
 Her eyes did not respond. " I 'm not ready to relinquish 
 
 yet." 
 
 An hour she slept, cheek pillowed on hand. Hal watched . 
 her, with a faint smile on his face. Now and then he got 
 up and got more fuel. At last a thought struck him. He 
 drew his creel to him and picked out a trout. This he 
 cleaned and put on a stick over the coals. It roasted 
 quickly and he drew it from the spit with great satisfaction. 
 While he devoured it, Sally opened her eyes. "My sakes! 
 it took you a long time to find that out!" she murmured. 
 
 "And I thought you were selfish to eat all that egg and 
 bacon by yourself," he ventured. 
 
 "You said you did n't want any of it," she replied. 
 
 "But you never told me I could cook my fish," he 
 retorted. 
 
 Her eyes rested on him softly. "I didn't catch any 
 
THE LAND CLAIMERS 129 
 
 fish. You had a creel full. And you never offered me 
 one." 
 
 He tossed the remnant into the brush and spread out 
 his jacket to dry. She shook her head. " It 11 stay warmer 
 if you keep it on." 
 
 "You watch," he returned. 
 
 The fire flamed up gradually as the fuel dried out, and 
 their little shelter was illuminated like a spot of light in 
 a vast, dark cavern. The girl, lying in her steaming 
 clothes, seemed drowsy, and Hal wondered whether it 
 would be possible for her really to go to sleep again. He 
 himself felt a great reaction of excitement from the numb- 
 ness that followed his accident. Sleep seemed futile. His 
 brightened eyes glanced round him with the zest of ad- 
 venture. All his commonplace life he had longed for 
 something such as this was likely to prove. He even 
 hummed a song. "^ 
 
 His jacket dried slowly as he turned it first on one side 
 and then the other. He noticed that when he had got one 
 side dry and spread the other to the fire the moisture was 
 driven through, so that his task seemed endless. At last 
 he devised a plan and hung it on a limb and over the fire. 
 He was gratified to discover that a half hour sufficed to 
 make it comfortable to wear. With it in his hand he rose 
 and crossed over to Sally. "Take off that wet coat," he 
 ordered, "and slip this on." 
 
130 THELANDCLAIMERS 
 
 She gazed up at him and then obediently took her own 
 dripping jacket off and donned the one he offered. As 
 she settled down again, he smiled. "I believe that was 
 the proper thing to do," he remarked. "All the men I 
 ever read of gave their coats to the woman in the case. 
 I feel quite like a hero." 
 
 She nodded, thrusting her hands into the pockets. He 
 scraped a place clear against the log and sat down. "In 
 fact, this is a real adventure," he continued. 
 
 "I wonder if Mr. Spencer is worried about you," she 
 suggested. 
 
 "I don't know," he replied. "He insisted on my 
 bringing some luncheon as he said I might get lost. But 
 he won't worry very much. He knows I can take care of 
 myself." 
 
 "If the water is n't too deep," she corrected. Her face 
 lit up with a smile. "Do you know," she piu-sued, "I 
 was quite disappointed." 
 
 "How?" 
 
 "I always read that when a girl fished a man out of 
 the water she said it was nothing at all and refused to 
 accept thanks. I forgot and now I've got your coat 
 on. 
 
 "Also the man always marries the girl in books," he 
 said lightly. 
 
 Though he could detect no change in her expression, 
 
THE LAND CLAIMERS 131 
 
 he suddenly felt the chill of her attitude. Deeper than 
 an emotion or a feeling, it was almost a congealing of her 
 spirit, a dense reserve behind which he could not penetrate. 
 A moment before she had been a picture amid the dark- 
 ness of their poor refuge. Now she was a part of the 
 forest elemental, with the stream roaring below them, 
 with the wind bellowing above, with the firs rising into 
 the tempest from the cold and sunless earth. He voiced 
 his thought abruptly. "I believe you have n't a soul!" 
 
 Her tones carried clearly back to him. "Because I 
 have n't offered to marry you? " 
 
 "I did n't ask you that," he responded. 
 
 She smiled. "But you might have." 
 
 He was amazed, and peered at her to see whether he 
 might discover her purpose. He feared she was mocking 
 him. Discomfited, he fell into a sullen silence. 
 
 The gale gathered strength as the night grew. The far 
 thunder of falling timber reverberated among the hills 
 and pealed up the canyon. It was varied by the boom of 
 the stream swelling below them, the groan of riven stumps, 
 the sharp musketry of snapping roots. Through it all the 
 young man sat listless and indifferent. Occasionally he 
 fed the fire. Each time he stared over at the girl, and 
 each time her steady eyes met his coldly. 
 
 The pouring rain invisibly worked through the soil 
 beneath them and gathered in subterranean pools. An 
 
132 THE LAND CLAIMERS 
 
 experienced timberman would have been warned by the 
 softening of the ground. But neither Marini nor Sally 
 observed that the mass of fallen brush, moss, twigs and 
 roots was loosening under them. So it happened that 
 the little bench on which they had fixed their camp sud- 
 denly slipped away towards the creek, and Hal, leaping 
 to his feet, stared into a darkness that moved and crept 
 and whispered about him. A huge weight settled, almost 
 imperceptibly, upon one shoulder. He flung his hand 
 out, and it met the rough bark of the log that formed their 
 refuge. With animal instinct he delved under it and 
 fought his way beyond it through the undergrowth. 
 Suddenly he remembered Sally. He stopped, listened, 
 and then slid down the now miry slope, crying, "Where 
 are you?" 
 
 She came into his arms from the darkness; sobbing, 
 shuddering in pure terror. Unastonished, he clasped her 
 closely and struggled up the yielding declivity. As he 
 progressed, damp limbs were thrust out to hold him, 
 roots caught at his feet, creepers twined about his legs. 
 But he scrambled on and upward till a big stump gave 
 them foothold and shelter. Against its immovable 
 strength he threw himself, still clutching the girl, for an 
 instant's breathing and rest. The ground he had traversed 
 sloughed away and sucked slowly into the stream below. 
 
 Finding his new footing secure, he allowed Sally to slip 
 
THE LAND CLAIMERS 133 
 
 down against the huge roots while he stooped to feel what 
 was underfoot. The sharp branches of a salal bush pricked 
 his fingers. The girl sank into it and he knelt beside her. 
 Trembling arms went round his neck. He half turned and 
 drew her close. From a dark cloud a slender rod of 
 lightning darted earthward. By its flash he saw Sally's 
 face. Her wide eyes stared into his appealingly. "Fm 
 afraid!" she cried. 
 
 He rejoiced in her cry. In that moment he felt equal 
 to defending her against all nature. With rough tender- 
 ness he straightened himself up beside her and smiled into 
 the murk. Timber crashed and the earth shook. With 
 open eyes he stared into the turmoil — and thought of a 
 brilliant life in which the girl at his side had no part. He 
 forgot her, lost the present in the gorgeous days to come. 
 Dawn found him unchilled, still holding Sally gently in 
 his arms. 
 
 She woke and without stirring looked up into his face. 
 His eyes were set on the black hills, and she perceived that 
 he was unconscious of her presence. For a moment only 
 she looked; then with a gentle effort she disengaged her- 
 self and sat up alone. He turned quickly and she smiled 
 frankly. "My sakes, but I was scared!" 
 
 He nodded. "It was a narrow escape. I don^t blame 
 you." He stretched his stiffened arms and stumbled to his 
 feet. "I'm hungry," he said. 
 
134 THE LAND CLAIMERS 
 
 Sally nodded, brushing her hair back from her forehead. 
 "We'll hurry home and have some breakfast." 
 
 When they reached the trail he said, "That was quite 
 an adventure/ 
 
 "You tell Mr. Spencer not to let you out alone in the 
 timber after this," she warned him. " It is n't safe." 
 
 "I'll tell him you saved my life," he answered simply. 
 His face broke into a smile. " I must tell my mother how 
 you fished me out, too." 
 
 Sally sniffed. "She'll write and tell you to be more 
 careful and then she'll want to know whether I'm pretty," 
 she asserted. 
 
 He stared. "I say, that's odd. She always wants to 
 know about how the girls I meet look." 
 
 "I don't remember about my mother," she replied 
 simply. "But I s'pose she'd want to know about all the 
 boys I met. At least I always think so. It seems to — " 
 she glanced at him shyly — "it seems to bring her closer." 
 
 He did not know that this was the first time Sally had 
 ever confided an intimate thought to anybody. But it 
 affected him. He found nothing to say except, " I have n't 
 seen my mother since I was a boy." 
 
 They found McCarthy seated on the bench outside his 
 cabin, in spite of the still falling rain. Sally explained 
 briefly that she had met Marini on Little Creek and that 
 they had had to spend the night under a tree. McCarthy 
 
THE LAND CL AIMERS 135 
 
 grunted, and when his daughter had gone in, invited the 
 young man to seat himself. "You're wetter 'n a clam at 
 high tide and you can't get no wetter," he remarked. 
 
 " I fell in," was the reply. The old man grunted again 
 but did not inquire the circumstances. But when Sally, 
 after preparing breakfast, came out, and Hal stum- 
 blingly thanked her for saving his life, McCarthy looked 
 keenly at them both. When Hal had struggled through 
 with what he felt was only common civility, the old man 
 fixed him with hard eyes and said roughly: "I guess the 
 girl would have done as much for anybody." 
 
 "Of course," he assented. "Only, as it was I, I feel 
 rather grateful." 
 
 He ate some breakfast and departed. As he disap- 
 peared, McCarthy stepped into the cabin. "Is that 
 Spencer's side-partner?" he demanded. 
 
 His daughter replied that it was, and McCarthy growled: 
 "Well, don't save his life any more. And don't fall in 
 love with him. I won't have it. He probably ain't worth 
 a dollar." 
 
 Sally elevated her chin and was silent. "I say I won't 
 have it!" her father repeated. 
 
 "That's what you say every time any good-looking 
 young fellow comes round," Sally retorted. "I'm tired 
 of it. I'm not falling in love with anybody. Besides, 
 it's my business." 
 
136 THE LAND CLAIMERS 
 
 McCarthy took this in good part. "Well, don't get 
 het up about it," he said soothingly, confident that in 
 this case his daughter's heart was untouched; other- 
 wise (he argued) she would not have spoken so decidedly 
 nor been so stubborn. " S' long as she don't get quiet and 
 say nothing, like her ma, she's all right," he thought. 
 
CHAPTER X 
 
 SPENCER opened his eyes wide when Hal Marini 
 trudged across the clearing hatless, without creel or 
 rod, and mud from head to toe. When that young man 
 had explained his plight and described the mode of his 
 rescue, the elder, secretly delighted, assumed an air of 
 indifference. "You better change your duds," he said 
 briefly. "That gell seems to be a good fisherman." 
 
 Later Hal narrated the events of the night. He omitted 
 to mention Sally's fear. He did not tell how she had fled 
 to him for protection. Spencer listened quietly. Then 
 he remarked: "I always liked that gell. I hope she'll 
 marry some first-rate feller." 
 
 "Some timberman," Hal said carelessly. "I suppose 
 she'll be in luck if he don't beat her." 
 
 "She'll marry some well educated chap with lots of 
 money," Spencer said positively. "She's worth a mil- 
 lion ordinary gells." 
 
 Hal's smile was indulgent. "She's had no advan- 
 tages," he remarked. "I guess she'll have to content 
 herself with a man of her own class." 
 
138 THELANDCLAIMERS 
 
 "Advantages or no advantages, class or no class/' 
 Spencer retorted hotly. "Sally is worth the best chap 
 the world can give her.'' 
 
 His companion nodded. "I know how one feels about 
 those things. But then — look at the other side. Now, 
 what would my mother say if I married some girl like 
 Sally? Short skirt, boots and tan? Raised in the woods 
 and as ignorant as a humming-bird? A fellow 's got to 
 think of those things." 
 
 "You seem to be thinking of them,'' Spencer returned 
 acidly. "Has anybody proposed to you lately?" 
 
 Hal tried to maintain a look of dignity. But his sense 
 of the ridiculous saved him and he laughed. " I was just 
 showing you a fellow's point of view," he explained. 
 
 Spencer rose, stretching his arms. "I guess you think 
 the gell wants to marry you because she fished you out 
 of the water. I reckon you've got another guess coming 
 to you." He picked up the ax and went out into the 
 clearing. 
 
 He chopped feebly a while and then sat down to smoke. 
 "Of all the mix-ups," he muttered to himself. "There's 
 this rotten old claim — not worth a whoop. There's 
 Flossetta Marini expectin' me to dry-nurse her son and 
 keep him from sky-hoodlin' down to 'Frisco to find out 
 she's no famous star, but in vaudeville; and there's 
 Sally, fightin' to have a happy life in spite of her old pap 
 
THE LAND CLAIMERS 139 
 
 and that skunk White." He shook his head. "*Nd 
 there's old Sim Spencer, with one lung, to straighten 'em 
 all out. I gotta do it quick, too." 
 
 He pondered his problem for hours, sitting on a log 
 amid the brush. The thought that made him squirm 
 was the knowledge that within a few weeks White would 
 go to Portland and prove up on a claim that did not be- 
 long to him, but to a homely girl whose dying mother 
 had been cheated of everything but death. Spencer was 
 not quixotic; he cared little for the defrauded woman. 
 But it stung his rough sense of justice that the smooth 
 cheat should go unwhipped while there were men around. 
 Having lived in and enjoyed a society where physical 
 violence reigned and strength ruled, he saw no other 
 way of avenging himself and outraged justice on White 
 than by brute force. "If I could only get him where I 
 want him! " he ejaculated. 
 
 He was not in doubt as to White's designs upon Sally 
 and sniffed contemptuously at thought of her weak 
 father, who would marry his daughter to the devil for 
 gain. One part of his problem was wholly dark: How 
 was he to bring about a plan in which Sally and Hal each 
 had a share? For Spencer, with a sigh, had accepted it 
 as a fact that everything he hoped for must be done at 
 once. He swore violently when he recalled the young 
 man's announcement of his social doctrine of marriage. 
 
140 THE LAND CLAIMERS 
 
 It was especially hard upon the elder man, because that 
 very doctrine had been bitterly accepted by him years 
 before. His resignation to it had been silent. It had 
 borne most heavily upon himself, and his had been the 
 first sacrifice. He had silently given up Flossetta Marini, 
 whom he loved, whom he still loved. He did not pro- 
 pose that Sally should be a victim to any such artificial 
 standard. 
 
 "The world was made in a week," he grumbled to him- 
 self. "'Nd I've got the same time to repair it in.** He 
 glowered at the leaden sky. 
 
 He emerged from his retreat to see the scout striding 
 across the creek bottom. They greeted each other curtly 
 and the scout, slipping his pack from his shoulders, sat 
 down on a stump and lit his pipe. "I was in at McCar- 
 thy's," he explained, "and being as I was going to Depot 
 Bay and there was a letter for you, I said I'd bring it 
 over." 
 
 "That was kind," Spencer said. "And it's a couple of 
 miles out of your way." 
 
 "I came from Newport this morning," was the simple 
 answer, "and a couple of miles more or less is nothing." 
 
 Spencer glanced at the letter and then thrust it into his 
 pocket. "What's the news?" he inquired. ^ 
 
 "I saw White in Newport," the scout said slowly. 
 "He's going to prove up in April. He was down putting 
 
THE LAND CLAIMERS 141 
 
 his notice in the paper. And there 's several others going 
 to prove up, too. There's — " 
 
 "What's White's date?" Spencer asked carelessly. 
 "McCarthy told me he was goin' to witness for him at 
 Portland." 
 
 "April the second," the scout replied. "Lim was 
 going to have me for a witness. But I backed out. He 
 ain't entitled to that place. He ain't done any improv- 
 ing and he ain't lived on it rightly. But of course he'll 
 get it. He stands in with the big bugs, and there's no- 
 body going to contest him." 
 
 "Why don't somebody contest him?" Spencer de- 
 manded. 
 
 "It would cost a feller two hundred dollars," the 
 scout explained. "And he'd lose his money, sure. Lim's 
 too solid with the grabbers to be turned down." 
 
 " But if he has n't done the law, I 'd think he 'd lose his 
 claim," Spencer insisted. 
 
 The scout shook his head. "I guess Lim '11 get the 
 claim all right. I was told he'd been offered twenty 
 thousand for it already." 
 
 "That's against the law, too," Spencer interrupted 
 quickly. " You gotta swear you have n't made any 
 bargain at all before you can prove up." 
 
 "Well," said the scout, knocking his pipe out, "it ain't 
 any funeral of yours or mine. I must be going. It's 
 
142 THE LAND CL AIMERS 
 
 fifteen miles to Depot Bay and after noon." He swung 
 his pack on his broad shoulders, nodded farewell and 
 departed, taking huge strides with ease and celerity, 
 vanishing up the trail silently, like a shadow. When he 
 had gone Spencer took the letter he had just received 
 from his pocket and opened it. When he had read it, 
 he dropped his chin on his chest. 
 
 Ashland, March Tenth. 
 
 Dear Sim, — I 'm down and out. I got a terrible cold a 
 week ago and now IVe had to break my contract and quit. 
 I*m done for good, I guess. I suppose if I had any nerve 
 left I*d just say good-by to everybody and exit decently. 
 But I want to see my boy first. You don't know how I count 
 on him, Sim. Does he look very much as Harry did ? Well, 
 I'm going to come over to your country, Sim. Just as soon 
 as I'm well enough. The doctor says I can go in a week. 
 But I'll wait till I hear from you. 
 
 I'm not going to let Hal know who I am. He would n't 
 know anyway. Just tell him I'm a friend of yours and I'll 
 stay on your ranch a few days and see my boy and then I '11 
 go away — for good. Don't, for God's sake, tell Hal. Let 
 me come down and see him before I die. He must n't be 
 ashamed of his mother. 
 
 Flossetta M. 
 
 And when he had digested this, Spencer raised his 
 head with a new light in his eyes. "Flossetta," he said 
 solemnly, "I'll do it." He fixed his gaze on the cold, 
 green heights, and his thoughts went swiftly. Finally, 
 
THE LAND CLAIMERS 143 
 
 with a satisfied nod, be put the letter back in his pocket 
 and went back to the cabin to find Hal. 
 
 "I forgot to pay ye this month's salary," he said 
 abruptly. 
 
 Hal stared at the hundred dollar bill. " I have n't any 
 change," he said. "Let it go." 
 
 "We'll make it two months' salary, then," Spencer 
 replied, thrusting the money into his hand. "I thought 
 mebbe you'd be wantin' to be lookin' round for a claim 
 for yourself. There ought to be some good ones ye might 
 get hold of for a couple of hundred." 
 
 Marini was troubled. " I 'm not doing any good here," 
 he said uneasily. " I was thinking that if you did n't 
 need me after this month I'd go to San Francisco and 
 see mother. I'm made for the city, anyway." 
 
 Spencer shook his head. "Don't be a fool. You 
 stay here and get a stake first. Your mother probably 
 don't want you to come down there and starve on her 
 hands." 
 
 "She's got plenty of money." 
 
 Spencer rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Well, if you 
 want to live off your mother, it's none of my business, I 
 suppose." 
 
 Hal flushed angrily. "I did n't mean that, at all." 
 
 "But that's what you would do," Spencer returned 
 equably. 
 
144 THE LAND CLAIMERS 
 
 "There's no chance to get a claim here," Hal went on 
 crossly. "I've inquired. There are a lot of good claims 
 that might be contested, but that's a poor business, and 
 it would get me disliked." 
 
 There was a steely look in Spencer's eyes as he leaned 
 over with an affectation of indifference. "I suppose one 
 mustn't get disliked," he admitted. "But if these peo- 
 ple ain't lived the law, why, I guess the claim you want 
 is yours, if the law says it ain't theirs." 
 
 Hal stared at the ceiling. "I looked into it," he said 
 finally. "And I decided not to do it." 
 
 "But if you found a claim where the law had been dis- 
 obeyed, and there was no excuse and you could prove it, 
 would you take the chance?" 
 
 "I've got no money to do it with." 
 
 " Don't ye get your wages regular? How much does it 
 take?" 
 
 "About fifty dollars for the first costs and then witness 
 fees and all the rest — they say about three or four hun- 
 dred dollars, usually, if they fight your contest." 
 
 Spencer meditated long. Then he drew up a chair and 
 looked across the table earnestly. " Look here, Hal. I 
 want you to do something. I want you to contest Lim 
 White's claim. He ain't lived the law, and he stole it 
 first place and you can have it. I'll pay your way if you 
 need the money." 
 
THE LAND CLAIMERS 145 
 
 There was a moment's silence. "It would be no use. 
 White's got the inside track. Everybody says so. It 
 would be just wasting money and time and trouble. Be- 
 sides, White is n't a safe man to run against." 
 
 "Are you afraid?" The words cut like a whip-lash. 
 They were followed by silence. 
 
 Hal stared at his employer with angry eyes. He 
 gained nothing by it. The eyes that met his were hot 
 and steady and scornful, but the question was not re- 
 peated. He wished it were; it would give him a chance 
 to resent it. Instead the silence deepened. Suddenly 
 the younger man's face softened. "No," he said defi- 
 nitely and gently. 
 
 Spencer nodded. "Then you'll get a twenty thousand 
 dollar claim. All you have to do is contest it. You find 
 out just what has to be done. You trust me; you'll 
 win. And then you can go to your mother and tell her 
 how much you're worth and that you got it yourself 
 and not by cheatin', but by buckin' a bad man and 
 showing folks that you had a Uttle nerve." 
 
 "I'll think about it," Hal responded slowly. "But 
 I'm not afraid. Only, I don't think it would pay me to 
 start in on something that might prove worthless after 
 all. Of course. White cheated you, and you feel that 
 you'd like to get even with him. And so long as I'm in 
 your employ and take your money, I'll try to earn it. 
 
146 THE LAND CLAIMERS 
 
 But I'm not sure that I care to contest Mr. White's 
 claim, even if you do infer that I'll have to live off my 
 mother." He flung out of the cabin and strode across 
 the clearing. 
 
 Spencer followed him with anxious eyes. He shook 
 his head. "He's got a big lot of his father in him. And 
 his father — " He spat viciously at the recollection of 
 that spirited man, who had left his young wife as soon as 
 he found that she did not meet the approval of careful 
 friends. "If he found the old lady was doin' a dance 
 turn in vaudeville, he'd throw her over," he remarked 
 to himself. "Like father, like son." But he was not 
 wholly without philosophy. He felt sure that there was 
 a manly strain in the youth that could be appealed to 
 and that, once awakened, would guide his life. Time 
 would tell. 
 
 If he had known what direction Hal had taken when 
 he struck the trail, his mind might have been easier. 
 Hal had been sorely hurt in pride. Spencer's dry in- 
 sinuation that he intended to live off his mother's money 
 made him rage. It did not make it any better that there 
 was a grain of truth in it. He felt the need of sympathy. 
 He would see Sally. Of course he would say nothing to 
 her about the facts; but he could easily stir her to a 
 feeling that he had been misunderstood. 
 
 He found her alone in the cabin. She received him 
 
THE LAND CLAIMERS 147 
 
 hospitably and asked how he felt. " I did n't expect to 
 see you again today," she said. 
 
 He suddenly realized that he had left her but a few 
 hours before, and he was confused. "Spencer and I had 
 a row," he said abruptly. 
 
 She glanced at him but said nothing. "He thinks I'm 
 no good!" he raged. "He insulted me I" 
 
 "My sakes! and did you lick him?" 
 
 " Lick him? " he repeated dully. " Why? " 
 
 "You said he insulted you and you had a row," she 
 returned. "I should think one or the other would have 
 got a licking. Did he lick you?" 
 
 The humor of the suggestion brought a laugh. "Not 
 so bad as all that," he said more amiably. "But you 
 know my mother lives in San Francisco, and I thought 
 I'd like to go down there. There's nothing for me to do 
 here. And Spencer said I wanted to go down and live off 
 my mother's money." 
 
 "What were you going to live off of?" 
 
 "That's just it," he mourned. "I have n't any money 
 except two hundred dollars he's paid me." 
 
 "Well?" she asked gently. 
 
 " I feel that I ought to do something," he went on, with 
 less vehemence. "Here I've been educated and my 
 mother expects great things of me. My father was a 
 very prominent and brilliant man. Don't you see I ought 
 
148 THE LAND CLAIMERS 
 
 to be in the world doing something? What is there to do 
 here? Nothing beyond Hving Hke a vegetable, like the 
 rest." 
 
 "What does Mr. Spencer say?" she inquired, sitting 
 down and resting her chin on her hands. 
 
 Her tone was soothing. "He says I ought to stay here 
 and make a stake," he pursued. "He says I can't do 
 anything in California, anyway, unless I have some money 
 to begin on. He wants me to take up a claim and settle 
 on it and live here, I suppose, till I can sell the timber. 
 I might be an old man!" 
 
 "I think you're both right," she said slowly. "I can 
 see that you ought to do what will please your mother. 
 It would be a shame not to use your learning and your 
 education. And I think he' s right when he says you 
 ought to have money of your own. Of course it would n't 
 be fair to take your mother's money any longer." 
 
 He was silent a while, hands deep in his pockets. He 
 looked up suddenly. "Do you never think of anything 
 but money? I know that's the chief thing. I've lived 
 in the Siletz long enough to know that. You live for 
 money and slave for money and — and marry for money. 
 All for money!" 
 
 Sally's pallid face flushed slightly. She looked at him 
 with profound amazement in her gray eyes, an expression 
 of unbelief, of sore hurt, of anguish. And before he could 
 
THE LAND CLAIMERS 149 
 
 interpret this strange glance, she burst into tears and 
 fled from the cabin. He tried to follow her. She disap- 
 peared into the timber, and he was left staring at the 
 empty clearing. 
 
 "By Jove! that was queer!" he muttered. "I wonder 
 what's the matter with her?" She did not return to tell 
 him, and he went home. 
 
 He passed within a few yards of where Sally, dry-eyed, 
 faced her future in despair and agony, quite alone in the 
 sunless forest, under the cold trees, crouching on the in- 
 hospitable earth like a hunted wild thing. 
 
CHAPTER XI 
 
 WHEN he reached home at dusk, Hal found Spen- 
 cer squared over the table writing a letter. He 
 looked up and nodded cheerfully. 
 
 "I'm scrawlin' a letter to your mother," he said. "I 
 ain't writ to her since you come, and I thought I'd 
 send my respects to her." He leaned back, pen between 
 his teeth, to stare at the young man. "What do you 
 think of her comin' here and seein' you? " he went on. 
 "Then you and her could plan things out." 
 
 "This is a pretty tough country to ask her to come to," 
 was the reply. Spencer nodded. "I'm tellin' her that. 
 'Nd that she won't find any caffys handy for breakfast 
 nor a cab nor a theater. But your mother would come 
 just the same, I bet. I believe it would do her good." 
 
 Hal replied evasively. He determined to write her a 
 letter and tell her under no circumstances to come; he 
 would enlarge on the frightful difficulties of the trip and 
 the primitiveness of the accommodations. 
 
 Spencer said no more about it, but painfully scratched 
 away till it was necessary to light the lamp. Hal got their 
 meagre supper, and when it was finished washed the few 
 
THE LAND CLAIMERS 151 
 
 dishes, while his employer continued his letter. When Hal 
 finally went to bed, Spencer was still busy, with knotted 
 brows and pursed lips. At midnight he had finished. 
 
 SiLETZ, 24 March, 1907 
 
 Dear miss Flossetta, — Your letter to hand and con- 
 tents noted. Im sorry youre sick, but I hope your O. K by 
 this time. Cheer up. Hal is workin away like a good feller, 
 doin all sorts of nifty jobs which his edducation helps him in 
 the same to do very well and O K in every particler. He is 
 well. He goes fishin a good deal. The weather has been 
 bum, but you get used to it. 
 
 About your coming here and not letting Hal know who 
 you are. If you say so, it goes. Come as soon as you like 
 and stay as long as you feel well. We live pretty rough. 
 You might say you was my sister. But dont get blue an 
 talk foolish. Hal dont need your money but he will need 
 you. Ill meet you at the Agency and bring you over here. 
 Then youll see your son workin away and makin money. 
 
 respectfuly yrs 
 
 S. Spencer 
 
 The next morning Spencer took the letter to the Agency 
 himself, making the round trip between dawn and dark. 
 On his return he seemed very thoughtful, and Hal, un- 
 easily conscious that he was to blame for his employer's 
 dissatisfaction, broached the subject of contesting Lim 
 White's claim. 
 
 "I've sort of looked around," he said. "White has n't 
 even pretended to obey the law. He has n't made any 
 
152 THE LAND CLAIMERS 
 
 improvements, nor fixed up his house nor stayed there 
 except when he had to. His witnesses are McCarthy and 
 Wild Bill. Wild Bill may be honest about it, but Mc- 
 Carthy seems to be under White's thumb." 
 
 "How long will it take to start the contest?" 
 
 " About a week, but after it 's started White will simply 
 rely on the men backing him to see that he does n't lose. 
 He'll have witnesses in plenty. And it's doubtful if any- 
 body around here would be willing to swear that he had n't 
 done the right thing, because they're afraid he'd win 
 anyhow, and then he'd make it hard for them." 
 
 "White's got to fight his own battle, hasn't he?" 
 Spencer demanded with interest. 
 
 "Sure. He's got to tell all he knows. He's his own 
 chief witness. But don't you worry; Lim White, from 
 what I can find out about him, is n't going to show the 
 white feather nor quit on a bluff." 
 
 "Look here," Spencer said quietly. "You go ahead 
 and file your contest and make a good fight. I '11 guarantee 
 you'll win." 
 
 Hal stared, as if he thought Spencer was demented. 
 "How do you know?" 
 
 "Don't ask me too many questions," was the brief 
 reply. "You just trust Sim Spencer. I got my leg pulled 
 twicet. And I'll have Lim White glad to have you have 
 that claim that he stole." 
 
THE LAND CLAIMERS 153 
 
 "You seem pretty certain of your ground," Hal said 
 grudgingly. "But — " 
 
 "There ain't no 'buts/" was the curt response. "If 
 there had been a man round loose before this, White 
 would n't have been so free with his thievin' and his 
 lyin'." 
 
 Before they went to bed it was agreed that the next 
 day Hal should go to Toledo and there consult a lawyer 
 and immediately file a contest for the claim that Lim 
 White was trying to make his own. In the morning 
 Spencer saw the young man off, with one or two words of 
 warning about the value of silence. When Hal had 
 vanished into the feeble rain, Spencer sat down to cogitate 
 and make his final arrangements for the reception of 
 Flossetta Marini. 
 
 What had appeared easy at first assumed a more puz- 
 zling aspect, the longer he considered it. His impulse had 
 been, when he agreed to her suggestion, to have her come 
 and stay with himself and her son. She would be his 
 sister, ostensibly. But then (he remembered well) Flos- 
 setta had been always of delicate tastes, in love with the 
 soft things of life, unequal to the arduous. Neither he 
 nor Hal could get one meal that would not disgust her. 
 The primitive accommodations of their cabin would 
 appal her. It was distinctly impossible. But what was 
 to be done? Spencer bent his brows over this for hours. 
 
154 THELANDCLAIMERS 
 
 At noon he ate his lunch, stared long at the dingy 
 walls and ended by saying to himself, "I'll go and see 
 Sally." 
 
 He found her alone, cooking a batch of light bread. 
 She seemed glad to see him, and yet her attitude was 
 more reserved, her humor more silent than he had ever 
 observed before. As he sat uneasily on a chair and watched 
 her deft movements about the rude table and little stove, 
 he debated how to open the problem to her. He ended 
 by saying, "I'm in a mess, Sally. I need your help." 
 
 She nodded gravely. "What's the matter?" 
 
 "I can't cook," he said. "And just now I'd rather be 
 a good cook than President of the United States." 
 
 She looked at him with warm eyes. "You just pack 
 your stuff over here. I'll cook for you. You'd be 
 welcome." 
 
 "No, I wouldn't," he answered, with a faint smile. 
 "Your father would throw me out. But it ain't me that's 
 sufferin'. It's somebody else." 
 
 Sally swung round sharply. "I suppose that young 
 man is the one," she said hotly. " I '11 do anything for you, 
 Mr. Spencer. But I draw the Hne at Mr. Marini. If he 
 can't cook, let him eat canned stuff or starve!" 
 
 "Now what have you got against Hal?" Spencer de- 
 manded anxiously. "Has he been botherin' ye? I'll sit 
 on him — hard." 
 
THE LAND CLAIMERS 155 
 
 "No," she said hastily, aware how futile an attempted 
 explanation would be. "Only, I don't like him. What 
 business has he looking down on us here in the timber? " 
 
 "None at all," was the prompt response. "But Hal 
 is a good boy. It was n't him I was speakin' of. It was 
 his mother. She's comin' to see him." 
 
 Sally was silent, and Spencer, having waited vainly for 
 a response, went on desperately: "She's in hard luck and 
 don't want Hal to know it, because she — she thinks he 
 would n't like it. But she wants to see him — has n't 
 seen him since he was a little shaver — and she 's comin' 
 here, sayin' as how she's my sister — just to see him and 
 see how's he's doin'. But I can't cook!" 
 
 Sally put her baking aside and came over and sat down. 
 "I don't believe I see through it yet," she said. "Say it 
 over again. I thought his mother was worth all kinds of 
 money and rode in a carriage and had a piano." 
 
 He explained awkwardly while she Hstened. At the 
 end of his recital she said quietly: "And the old lady 
 wants to see her son, and he'd be ashamed of her if he 
 knew it was his mother, so she's coming as your sister? 
 And you can't cook? " 
 
 "That's about the facts," Spencer returned. 
 
 "Let her come here," Sally said curtly. "I've got 
 less use than ever for that Hal. But I'll cook for his 
 mother." 
 
156 THE LAND CLAIMERS 
 
 "You're 'way off about Hal. He ain't bad. Only his 
 mother put him up to thinkin' that she was famous and 
 that he was the whole show with her. And she can't 
 stand to have him despise her." 
 
 Sally got up and went back to her baking. "I'll look 
 after her," she said. " Dad is going over to White's place 
 to help him with his improvements. He'll be over there 
 most of the time till White proves up and then he'll go 
 to Portland to witness for him." 
 
 " I '11 pay the bill," Spencer added. Then, more thought- 
 fully, "I hope it will all come right between Hal and his 
 mother. You see, his mother had hard luck." 
 
 She looked over at him. " She should n't have lied to 
 him. What's the use?" 
 
 This troubled Spencer greatly. He launched out into 
 an elaborate apology for Flossetta. Sally listened for a 
 while but finally stopped him, smiling brilliantly. 
 
 "What's the use of talking?" she demanded. "My 
 sakes! anybody could tell you were in love with her." 
 
 Spencer blushed furiously. His dark face set in dogged 
 lines. "I was," he admitted. "And she's a fine woman. 
 And I'm goin' to help her all I can." 
 
 "Count me in," was the curt response. They dropped 
 the subject. 
 
 After supper he went back to his own dreary cabin 
 and sat by the little stove, coughing from excitement. 
 
THE LAND CLAIMERS 157 
 
 He reread Flossetta's letter, like a boy in dim love. Mem- 
 ory whirled him out of the dark forest into the city of his 
 tm*bulent and unvanquished youth. He trod Market 
 Street again, sought Telegraph Hill in the white morning 
 to gaze out on the traflBc-crowded bay. The fresh sea air 
 stung his nostrils; the indefinable, amazing, unbelievable 
 exhilaration of San Francisco carried him away once more 
 to forgetfulness of sordidness, squalor and misery. What 
 a youth his had been! There was n't a street where he 
 had n't fought for his life, not a corner that he had not 
 turned breathlessly at some time. Though his business 
 had been one hated and feared, liable to unpleasant pub- 
 licity, it had given him an outlet for his brimming vitality. 
 The men he had licked ! The snarling crews he had thrust 
 aboard ships with his scarred hands! The nights he had 
 spent in an open boat in the darkness, fighting the tide 
 rips, cursing carelessly because he had but a pinched hold 
 on life, and an hour might see his corpse floating in the 
 fairway! His breath came fast as he remembered it all. 
 "I was a husky lad!" he thought warmly. "I c'd take 
 care of m'self. Sure I could!" 
 
 In the midst of this turmoil and activity, this constant 
 battle and unceasing snatching at hard-won wages, ap- 
 peared the delicate and alluring image of Flossetta. She 
 was like, a quiet and lovely space in the heart of a smoky, 
 noisy city. With her childish grace and pretty wilfulness 
 
158 THELANDCLAIMERS 
 
 she had sung herself into his heart. How pure she was! 
 and how unstained ! He had given her prompt allegiance, 
 with the frankness of his temperament. She had smiled, 
 accepted his awkward homage, and never scorned him 
 nor hurt him, however fine the company of her adorers. 
 Gradually (he remembered it with set lips) he had re- 
 solved to marry her. He loved her. He could lick any 
 man of those who hung round her. With his two fists 
 and his good arms he had determined to take her for 
 himself . . . 
 
 He poked the coals in the stove and lit a cigarette. 
 
 . . . Two fists, a faithful heart and his strong determi- 
 nation had suddenly been made useless. Not by any man, 
 but by Flossetta herself. She had seemed incapable of 
 understanding that he loved her and would marry her. 
 She had Hstened with faintly puckered brows when he 
 explained himself; she had cried a little when he had 
 ended. He heard her yet: "Dear old Sim! Why, I 
 would n't have the faintest idea of what to do if I married 
 you. Would I have to wear an apron and cook? I canH 
 cook. And I never, never want to learn!" 
 
 She had married Harry Marini. He had money, and, 
 what Sim never would have, a genial polish of manner 
 that forbade Flossetta even to resent his leaving her. She 
 had almost been convinced that she had dismissed him, 
 and he had taken it nicely, like the real gentleman he was. 
 
THE LAND CLAIMERS 159 
 
 Spencer flung his cigarette away and dropped his head 
 between his hands. It had all happened twenty-odd 
 years ago. 
 
 The grim Siletz forest closed in on him again. San 
 Francisco and his old life vanished. The walls of the 
 solitary shanty under the towering firs shut out everything 
 but the patter of the rain on the shakes and the occasional 
 breathing of the cold and unvitalized timber. It was 
 twenty miles to the nearest town, through the forest. It 
 was ten to the coast. And in all the extent of the huge, 
 dark, pathless reservation he knew of but half a dozen 
 neighbors. His mind went on, picking up all the physical 
 details of his isolation, placing them before him in com- 
 fortless figures. And all that was left, between him and 
 starvation, was a single hundred-dollar bill. When that 
 was gone, the end of this final game with fortune would 
 have come. 
 
 With painstaking care he ran over what he had to do. 
 ** I must get Hal that claim of Lim White's, and fix it so 
 Flossetta '11 be comfortable, and help Sally to be happier. 
 'Nd do it all on a hundred bucks." He sighed deeply. 
 
 Then, as an earnest of his intention not to "quit," he 
 went to the pantry and forced down his throat a couple 
 of nauseous biscuits and a glass of tinned milk. "I 
 gotta get that weight," he told himself. 
 
CHAPTER XII 
 
 After an absence of five days, Hal returned from 
 -^ -^ Portland and announced to Spencer that he had 
 filed a contest in the Land Office for Lim White's daim. 
 The officials had received his filing with reluctance, he 
 stated; he had been told that his effort to get the claim 
 was preposterous, and that no date could be set for the 
 hearing. His attorney had informed him that the strength 
 of his allegations was such that it was likely that White 
 would be compelled to live for the full three years on his 
 claim, instead of being allowed to commute and pay 
 the Government the required dollar and a quarter an 
 acre. Farther than this, the lawyer would give him no 
 encouragement. 
 
 "Everybody told me that White would rather live 
 another year or so on the place than lose twenty thousand 
 dollars," Hal told Spencer. 
 
 "Who is everybody?" Sim demanded curtly. 
 
 "The men in the Land Office — the lawyer — a fellow 
 I met in the Land Office," he said vaguely. "Then I got 
 to talking with a chap in the hotel. He told me the same 
 thing." 
 
THE LAND CL AIMERS 161 
 
 "Well?" Spencer's tone was sharp. 
 
 Hal smiled slightly. "It's up to you," he responded. 
 "You told me to go ahead. You said it was all right." 
 
 Spencer sighed. "Look here, Hal," he said, "you know 
 yourself that that claim's worth twenty thousand dollars. 
 Now the law's plain enough for a Georgia nigger to read. 
 Ain't you man enough to get that money? Say, speak 
 up!" 
 
 The young man pondered a while. " I 'd like the money, 
 all right," he answered presently. "But what's the use 
 of fighting everybody in the Siletz? Do you know the 
 only witnesses I could get to sign up were the scout and 
 another fellow that I don't know? Everybody here is on 
 White's side. It'll cost money, too." 
 
 "How much?" came the demand. 
 
 "Maybe three or four hundred dollars. If White 
 did n't fight it, it would cost only thirty dollars more 
 than I 've spent so far, but of course he'll fight it." 
 
 "You mean if White does n't turn up at the trial?" 
 
 "Yes. The lawyer said he didn't see anything for 
 us to do but go to White and buy his relinquishment. 
 He said he might sell, if he really was up against the 
 law." 
 
 Spencer coughed. "Don't you ever offer White a soli- 
 tary penny!" he stormed, choking. "I'm puttin' this 
 deal through. 'Nd Mr. White, he goes busted. See?" 
 
162 THE LAND CLAIMERS 
 
 "I don't see/' Hal replied truthfully. "But Tm leav- 
 ing it to you." 
 
 The next few days were uneasy ones for Spencer. The 
 news that Marini had contested Lim White spread quickly. 
 Men went out of their way to call at the Spencer cabin and 
 inquire whether it was true. Each left with words of com- 
 miseration. "Nobody ever ran against Lim but what 
 Lim knocked him sky-high," was the universal verdict. 
 On Spencer this had no effect. He airily rejected sym- 
 pathy and assured the visitor that while Hal was " hangin* 
 from his own hook," he, Spencer, was willing to bet on the 
 result. 
 
 In the midst of this, while Hal was sulking and mutter- 
 ing that he had been sent on a wild-goose chase, Spencer 
 announced the coming of his sister. "She'll be here next 
 week," he said, "I'm goin' to Toledo to meet her and 
 bring her in." 
 
 " I never heard you had a sister," Hal asserted. 
 
 "I have, sure I have. She's a nice lady, too." 
 
 "I suppose I'll have to go and camp, then. If a lady's 
 coming it's up to me to get out." 
 
 "Not a bit of it," Spencer assured him. "She's goin' 
 to stop with Sally. I've made all the arrangements. 
 Stay where you are. You'll find her a fine lady, too." 
 
 When Spencer left for Toledo, by way of the Agency, 
 after severe preparations in the way of a brilliant shirt 
 
THE LAND CL AIMERS 163 
 
 and high collar, Hal strolled over to the McCarthy 
 cabin. He found Sally busy sweeping. "Tm making 
 everything ready for Mr. Spencer's sister," she announced, 
 giving him a chair. "I expect she'll be in by day after 
 to-morrow.** 
 
 "I suppose so,*' he responded sulkily. "What in the 
 world does he want to bring a woman into this God- 
 forsaken place for? It is n't fit for a man, let alone a 
 
 woman." 
 
 " I see you 're fixing to stay," she said, smiling. " You *ve 
 gone and contested Lim White." 
 
 "And made a fool of myself," he replied wrathfuUy. 
 "Spencer told me it would be easy. But everybody in 
 the Siletz is on White's side. It'll cost me money and 
 nothing gained." 
 
 She shook her head. "I was glad when you did it," 
 she told him. "Lim has just about run this country for 
 the last five years. And nobody had the nerve to tell him 
 to quit. But when I heard you'd quietly gone and filed 
 against him, I knew a real man had got tired of bowing 
 down to him. I do hope you'll win.** 
 
 As they discussed the matter, Hal felt that, after all, 
 he had done a plucky thing. Single-handed, he had gone 
 to battle with the power of the country. And Sally*s 
 frank praise and sympathy warmed him and made him 
 sure that he would succeed. 
 
164 THE LAND CLAIMERS 
 
 "The law's plain enough," he remarked. "But of 
 course he '11 fight. But if one sticks to it, he'll lose. He's 
 a bluffer." 
 
 At this moment McCarthy came in, glowering and 
 ugly. "I hear you've caught on pretty quick," he said 
 harshly to the young man. " Usually the tenderfeet wait 
 till they know something about this country before they 
 butt in too hard." 
 
 Hal returned scowl for scowl, confident in himself for 
 the moment. "I think Mr. White will find out that I'm 
 butting in to some purpose," he boasted. "One man 
 does n't run this reservation, the Government and all the 
 rest of the world, does he? " 
 
 McCarthy merely muttered in his beard and proceeded 
 to gather together what he needed for the trip to Otter 
 Rock. Ignoring Marini, he addressed his daughter. 
 "I'm going over to White's. I'll be there till he goes to 
 Portland to prove up. You better come over to-morrow 
 and cook for us. We'll be right busy." 
 
 Sally glanced at her father and answered: "Expect me 
 when I come." 
 
 "If ye don't come to-morrow, Lim or I will be back 
 after ye," he aflBrmed sourly. Swinging his hastily made 
 pack on his shoulders, he departed. 
 
 Hal stayed on, warming himself in Sally's praise. 
 Time and time again she came back to the subject of his 
 
THE LAND CLAIMERS 165 
 
 contest against Lim White, subtly suggesting to him that 
 he had done it more for the sake of showing his metal 
 than for the money that was in it. "Even if you lose," 
 she said, "you'll make Lim know enough to draw in his 
 horns. I wish I was a man!" 
 
 "What would you do?" he demanded. 
 
 She looked at him with frank pleasure in his interest. 
 
 "Lots of things. First, Td let everybody know that I 
 was tending to my own business. Then I'd go on my 
 own way, without paying attention to anybody. I'd 
 rather be poor as a wood-rat than swallow what some 
 men do." Her eyes clouded and she bent over her work. 
 " I s'pose that all sounds foolish," she murmured. 
 
 Her attitude had thawed Hal until he realized that, 
 after all, life was ready to his hand. He did not have to 
 go to San Francisco to find its threshold. He had been 
 less than two months in the Siletz, and here he was face 
 to face with an enemy, and no mean antagonist at that. 
 He was not aware of it; but the present meant much 
 to him. In years to come he was to look back on this 
 moment as the beginning of his manhood. True, he 
 had already taken the first steps in this struggle. But 
 he had taken them unwillingly, driven by shame before 
 Spencer. Now he was learning that that hesitating 
 obedience bore within it the seed of his own independ- 
 ence, and that he had suddenly had thrust on him the 
 
166 THE LANDCLAIMERS 
 
 complete burden of responsibility. He enjoyed it. And 
 when he left at dusk he took with him a wholly new 
 conception of Sally. "By Jove!" he said to himself. 
 "She's a fine girl! And beautiful, too!" 
 
 The next morning he returned, ostensibly to find out 
 whether there was any word of Spencer and his sister; 
 his real object was to discover whether Sally intended 
 to go to Otter Rock to cook for her father and Lim White. 
 His curiosity was not satisfied, for Sally was gone and 
 the cabin was empty. The fact that a pan of bread was 
 rising on the shelf behind the stove annoimced that she 
 had not gone far. But a wait of an hour brought no 
 Sally, and Hal, feeling rather dull, decided to go fishing. 
 He had brought a line and some hooks along with him, 
 and as he had no rod or creel he thought he would try 
 more primitive ways of catching trout. So he dug a few 
 worms from under the bark of a fallen spruce, as he had 
 seen the scout do, and started for Little Creek. 
 
 He met no one on the trail. Two hours' fishing sufficed 
 to fill the pockets of his jacket and to weary him. He 
 threw his rude pole away, wound his line up and started 
 home shortly after noon. His thoughts had been mingled, 
 pleasant and unpleasant, while he fished, and now they 
 seemed determined to settle into a dull gloom that made 
 him restless. He felt that in taking up the contest against 
 White he had probably been deceived. Public opinion 
 
THE LAND CLAIMERS 167 
 
 was contrary to him. Likely he had been made the in- 
 strument of Spencer's desire for revenge. 
 
 Consequently he was much embarrassed to meet White 
 himself on the trail. They had never spoken till now, 
 but the rude courtesy of the timber demanded that he 
 respond to White's curt greeting. Somehow they found 
 themselves facing each other, each waiting for the other 
 to speak. White, shrewdly observant of the young man's 
 confusion, took advantage of it. "I wondered when I'd 
 see you," he said smoothly. "I understand you think 
 I'm not entitled to my claim." 
 
 Hal glanced at the rather nonchalant figure of the man 
 he was opposing and felt the scrutiny of his keen eyes. 
 He repUed stanmaeringly: "Yes, I thought I might as 
 well have it as somebody else." 
 
 White nodded. "Of course. I don't bear any ill- 
 will. I'm too much of a business man, myself, to get 
 mad at what another man thinks is business. Only, 
 you're off on the wrong foot. I'm quite entitled to 
 the claim." 
 
 "But you haven't obeyed the law," Hal protested. 
 "You've not made any improvements and you've been 
 off your place half the time." 
 
 "Naturally some of my enemies would swear to that," 
 White returned equably. "But you've not been here 
 long enough to find out just how people put things up. 
 
168 THE LAND CLAIMERS 
 
 Mr. Marini. IVe got enemies, same as any other man. 
 And they thought you'd be a good man to set on me. 
 But they're all wrong." 
 
 "How?" demanded Hal. 
 
 ''Now, there's a fair question," was the answer. "I'll 
 tell you. This matter of proving up on your claim is not 
 only a legal matter but it 's a neighborly one, too. I never 
 bear down too hard on a man who's taken up a place in 
 the Siletz. The best you can make of it is a pretty hard 
 proposition. I never make any trouble for anybody. If 
 a man does as well as he can, I say, let him have the land. 
 You look at it differently. But the Government looks at 
 it my way, you'll find. What we need in here is settlers, 
 and you can't get settlers if you're too strict." 
 
 "But the only thing worth while is the timber," in- 
 sisted Hal. 
 
 "Sure, that's the way with some people. But I'm 
 taking up my claim to live on it. Why should I want to 
 sell it and have to go somewhere else to live?" 
 
 White glanced under his brows to see what effect this 
 argument had. He appeared satisfied. "Of course, I 
 know the custom," he continued smoothly. "You make 
 a mistake and think you're entitled to my claim. It 
 often happens. Now I convince you that you're wrong 
 and I say: 'You've spent some money, thinking you 
 were entitled to this homestead. I've shown you that 
 
THE LAND CLAIMERS 169 
 
 you *re not. But I 'm a fair man. You relinquish to me 
 and ril pay you — '" he stopped and glanced pleasantly 
 over Hal's head — "how much shall I pay you for your 
 relinquishment? " 
 
 Hal stared at him, the blood slowly pouring into his 
 brain. The smooth, middle-aged man before him was 
 trying to buy him off. True, it was his own venture and 
 the struggle was between the two alone. He had the 
 right to make a compromise. Yet — Spencer's eager 
 face appeared in the background, the face of his em- 
 ployer and his friend. He found the words slowly, staring 
 at his interrogator and tempter. " I '11 take twenty thou- 
 sand dollars for my relinquishment to the claim," he 
 responded. 
 
 White's eyes blazed up, and his face set harshly. "All 
 right," he said threateningly. "I made you a friendly 
 offer. Now I'll see you damned before I say anything 
 more to you." He passed on quickly. Hal smiled to 
 himself; he was surer now of his ground. White was 
 afraid. 
 
 He had gone a few hundred yards further when, stand- 
 ing on a spur of the ridge that the trail followed, he 
 caught a glimpse of a cabin he had never seen before. It 
 lay far down in the canyon, its little clearing showing like 
 a spot of brown amidst the universal green. Smoke 
 eddied up from the pipe on the roof. A woman stood in 
 
170 THE LAND CLAIMERS 
 
 the doorway. Something was strangely familiar about 
 her attitude. He strained his eyes to see who it could 
 be. He had heard of no one in this part of the town- 
 ship. He had passed no trail leading down to this place. 
 And yet the scene was there, distinct, unmistakable. 
 The woman moved, stretching a bare arm up to rest one 
 hand on the door jamb. It was incredible. It was Sally 
 McCarthy. 
 
 He changed his foothold and the scene vanished, the 
 vista closed. He tried vainly to bring it back again into 
 view, but it eluded him. For a moment he was bewil- 
 dered; it must have been an hallucination, a mirage. 
 He continued on towards the McCarthy place. An hour 
 later, as he stepped into the clearing, he saw Sally com- 
 ing out, bare-armed, short ax in hand. She returned 
 his hail with a gesture. He approached, wondering. 
 But she gave no sign of having any intention of explain- 
 ing her absence, and he refrained from questions till she 
 had finished chopping away a root before the door. Then 
 he said, "I thought I saw you about an hour ago. I 
 think I must have been dreaming.'* 
 
 She turned startled eyes on him. "Where?" 
 
 "Standing in the doorway of a cabin about three miles 
 from here. I did n't know anybody lived up towards the 
 creek. It was a cabin down in a canyon." 
 
 "Nobody lives anywhere round here," she answered 
 
THE LAND CLAIMERS 171 
 
 slowly. "No woman, certainly. The school teacher is 
 the only woman, and she lives the other way." 
 
 " It was n't the school teacher," he said positively. 
 " Funny, I stepped a little to one side while I was look- 
 ing from the trail down at the place, and I could n't find 
 it again." 
 
 She made no response, but presently spoke of the com- 
 ing of Spencer's sister. "I hear she's a pretty fine lady." 
 
 He laughed. "Spencer is a confirmed admirer of the 
 fair sex. He swears you're a 'fine gell' every time I 
 speak of you." 
 
 "And you think likely he*s blinded to his sister's 
 faults, too?" 
 
 "You know I don't mean that," he said awkwardly. 
 " I 'm an admirer of you myself." 
 
 "My sakes! You'll be paying me compliments next I 
 But I hope Mr. Spencer's sister will like it here. He 
 seems set on having her enjoy it." 
 
 "What's her name?" he demanded. 
 
 Sally was plainly embarrassed. "He didn't say," 
 she murmured, fleeing within the cabin on a pretext of 
 having to put her bread in the oven. 
 
 "Funny," thought Hal, as he went slowly homeward. 
 "Spencer never said a word about his sister before. I 
 wonder who and what she is. Maybe she's a spinster." 
 He decided she must be, as her name had never been 
 
172 THE LAND CLAIMERS 
 
 mentioned, and it was probable that Spencer had taken 
 it for granted that they would know her name was the 
 same as his. He thought possibly it would be best to 
 dress up a little when he went down to McCarthy's the 
 next day to meet them, as it was not unlikely that Miss 
 Spencer was youthful. 
 
CHAPTER XIII 
 
 WHEN he had left Hal Marini, after so unsatis- 
 factory a conversation, Lim White pursued his 
 way towards Depot Bay with mingled feelings of chagrin 
 and desire for revenge. His shrewd, rather comely face 
 expressed little of his thoughts; but his clenched fists 
 and jerkily swinging arms betrayed, even to himself, the 
 strength of his emotion. For in his case feeling — desire, 
 of a primitive kind — held the place of intellect. In 
 other communities White had not been successful. His 
 defective education had combined with a sullen tenacity 
 of appetite to render him incapable of cold scheming or 
 honest industry. In a society where success had its 
 price in constant sacrifice of the present, and in unwearied 
 effort, he had won the distrust of others and a certain 
 measure of ill repute. He had been considered "unsafe "; 
 at last he had proved to himself that if he were to win 
 wealth and the position he ignobly and hotly desired, he 
 must go somewhere else than the East. 
 
 He had arrived in the Siletz country bent on finding 
 sudden riches. His mind had been inflamed — or those 
 
174 THE LAND CLAIMERS 
 
 desires that served him for a mind — by the hints thrown 
 out by agents of big lumber companies. Lacking im- 
 agination, he had become convinced not only of the possi- 
 bility of wealth by dealing in timber, but he had learned 
 the methods by which some of that wealth could be made 
 his. His timidity had been banished by the view of the 
 impunity of others. His shrewdness quickly made him 
 known to one or two gentlemen whose business it was to 
 get hold of timbered homesteads, and within a year of 
 his arrival he had taken the place he now occupied — that 
 of a shrewd, taciturn, unscrupulous operator. At first he 
 had been wary of stirring up enmity. But, as success 
 followed his work, and contempt for the weaker grew fat, 
 he threw off all semblance of care for the opinion of his 
 possible victim. Timber was all he was after, and he got 
 timber by any means in his power. 
 
 As he proceeded this dim afternoon to his own claim, 
 which was his by intrigue and trickery, he suffered no 
 remorse. Instead, it was with pride that he recalled how 
 clever he had been, how surely he had carried every 
 scheme to success. The Siletz was a vast field of opera- 
 tions. He was not alone, by any means, in his profession; 
 but he had been prosperous beyond all others. Now he 
 was on the point of crowning his career by proving up 
 on the richest homestead in all that forest. Two months 
 from now he would be able to sell it for twenty thousand 
 
THE LAND CLAIMERS 175 
 
 dollars, which, with his other earnings, would enable 
 him to quit the timber for ever and enjoy himself. 
 
 Consequently his wrath at Marini's contest was almost 
 ferocious. It menaced the harvest of years of labor. He 
 was confident that his "friends" would see to it that 
 Marini stood no chance. But White was a physical 
 coward. The open defiance he had just met with affected 
 him Uke a physical blow, and he cringed. The deeper his 
 sense of having been humiliated, the profounder his de- 
 sire to have revenge. In this revenge he would include 
 the feeble and ridiculous Spencer. Gossip had told him 
 how Spencer regarded him, and malice had intimated 
 that mingled with Spencer's anger at the cheat was a 
 large and outspoken contempt. It struck at the base of 
 his dominance of the Siletz and his superiority to Mc- 
 Carthy and his kind. 
 
 Debating just how he would sharpen his weapons, 
 White traversed the dark trail until it suddenly abandoned 
 the ridge and dropped into a dusky canyon. He scrambled 
 down hastily and stopped on the first bench to glance at 
 his watch. He had an instinctive fear of the dark. In all 
 the years he had spent in the forest this fear had never 
 left him. Now it seemed to mingle with his remembered 
 flinching from Hal Marini, and he cursed as he hastened 
 on. A mile further he emerged on a wagon-road and 
 knew that he was now a mile from Otter Rock, where he 
 
176 THE LAND CLAIMERS 
 
 could stop for the night, if it grew too dark to continue 
 to his claim. 
 
 While he climbed the steep road and passed through 
 the thinly timbered benchland, he drew in large breaths 
 of the salty air. Just at sunset he reached the shoulder of 
 the huge promontory. The Pacific's surf creamed against 
 the foot of the cliffs far below him, sending up a faint 
 sound of dashing water and hissing foam. On the horizon 
 the fiery ball of the sun shone through the cloud bank. 
 At the zenith a solitary pinnacle of vapor glowed with 
 many colors. He halted, easing the weight of the pack 
 on his shoulders by supporting it on a short stump, took 
 off his hat and wiped his forehead. Behind him, sunk 
 in darkness and obscurity, lay the edge of the forest. He 
 hated it. Something of its sunlessness had taken the 
 warmth from his heart. For that instant he saw how 
 petty, how small, how mean his acts had been. His 
 superiority had been false. Taking all his plans and 
 intrigues out of that dimly lit timber, spreading them 
 before his mind's eye in the open spaces of the coast, he 
 suddenly perceived that this windy, glaring height was 
 fatal to his pride and self-assurance. He decided not to 
 stop at the settler's house beyond him, but to push on and 
 bury himself again in the shadows. " When I sell my claim," 
 he muttered to himself, " I '11 quit it all and go somewhere 
 , else. This ain't any place for a white man, anyway." 
 
THE LAND CLAIMERS 177 
 
 He hastened on, passed the single house without stop- 
 ping, and plunged on down the winding trail over the high 
 downs to Rock Creek. It was dark when he reached the 
 trail that led in to his own claim from the road, but he 
 trudged on, seeing his way by the remaining light to 
 which, as it faded, his eyes grew accustomed. When he 
 finally reached his own clearing and saw the light in the 
 window that told him McCarthy awaited him, he realized 
 that he was glad. His fear of the forest was returning to 
 him, physical dread of the dark, and he pushed open the 
 door hastily. McCarthy, stooped over the stove, straight- 
 ened up with an exclamation of surprise. " I did n't think 
 you'd make it," he said. 
 
 "I thought I might as well come right on," White re- 
 turned, throwing his pack to the floor. "WeVe got lots 
 to do." 
 
 McCarthy nodded and proceeded to cut more from the 
 ham and to put some extra potatoes into the kettle. 
 "That young fellow seems to have got you scared," he 
 remarked. 
 
 "I'll fix him," was the savage reply. "I met him on 
 the trail this afternoon. I guess I gave him something to 
 think about that he'll not forget very soon." 
 
 This was a He. But McCarthy, though vaguely aware 
 that White was a boaster, had no reason to suppose that 
 Marini had fared any better with White than most of the 
 
178 THE LAND CLAIMERS 
 
 settlers, who had been bullied and browbeaten till they 
 feared more than they hated. 
 
 "I guess he'll find out what he's fighting," said the 
 old man slowly. "But I notice you seem mighty bent 
 on getting some improvements done." 
 
 "There's no need of taking chances," White responded 
 briefly. 
 
 They sat down to their meal and ate heartily. When 
 they had finished, McCarthy proceeded to wash the dishes, 
 while White sat and smoked. It was one sign of his as- 
 cendency that, wherever he might be, or whoever might 
 be with him, he never did any menial work nor allowed it 
 even to be suggested; the proof of it was that McCarthy 
 did what work there was to be done without grumbling 
 and even as if anxious to please. 
 
 Later White took up the subject of his thoughts. "IVe 
 got to fix this Marini right away," he said querulously. 
 "Of course, I'll get the claim all right. I guess I know 
 who's who in the Land OflSce, and they know me. But 
 I don't stand for any such business from any one. I'll 
 teach this young sprig a lesson." 
 
 " I 'U bet Spencer put him up to it," McCarthy remarked. 
 "I know he feels pretty sore over his claim and the way 
 you soaked him. He blew off his mouth the other day 
 about it." 
 
 "What did he say?" 
 
THE LAND CLAIMERS 179 
 
 McCarthy glowered at the lamp. "He swore you were 
 a four-flusher," he said, with secret enjoyment. "He let 
 on as how anybody with grit and gumption could lay it 
 all over you. He — '* McCarthy's withered soul gleamed 
 maliciously from his half-closed eyes — "he did n't seem 
 to think you amounted to much." 
 
 There was a silence during which White stared at the 
 rude rafters of the cabin, as though he expected to 
 find among them some instrument of his immediate 
 vengeance. 
 
 "Then that makes two chaps that'll have to be 
 fixed," he rasped presently. "Well, I guess they'll find 
 Lim White ready for them." He dropped his eyes on 
 McCarthy. 
 
 "Sure," said his companion easily. "You know we're 
 all back of you." 
 
 White did not reply. Instead, he rose and went to a 
 shelf and pulled down a pamphlet containing the rules 
 and statutes governing the allotment of Government 
 lands. Over this he studied for a full half-hour. When 
 he closed it, he turned on McCarthy and said abruptly: 
 
 "Get to work to-morrow and set out a garden. I've 
 got to have some trees, too. I know a claim here on 
 Depot Bay where there are a lot of young apple-trees 
 that were set out last year. We'll dig 'em up and stick 
 'em round this place. That'll give you an orchard to 
 
180 THE LAND CLAIMERS 
 
 swear to. Then you must fell two or three more trees. 
 That'll make my improvements up to requirements. 
 Now as to this Marini; who are his witnesses?" 
 
 McCarthy shook his head. " I don't know, except one 
 is the scout." 
 
 "I know that. And I know who the second one is. It's 
 one of my own men. He was pretty shrewd, he was. Of 
 course the young fellow don't know that, and he won't, 
 till he comes up to trial and finds his witness don't know 
 anything at all except that I obeyed the law. But he 
 must have some other witnesses besides them. Who are 
 they?" 
 
 McCarthy repeated his denial of any knowledge. 
 White accepted it, but with suspicion which he was 
 careful not to show. By slow degrees he changed the 
 conversation round to other plans. " I guess when I sell 
 I'll have enough money to enjoy myself a while," he said 
 easily. "And of course I owe you something, too." 
 
 McCarthy's lips opened and closed, soundlessly. 
 
 "Yes, I do. Of course, we've sort of helped each other 
 out, in good neighborly fashion. I've loaned you money 
 and helped you to several good pickings in the way of 
 locating folks. But I don't expect to ask you for it." 
 
 McCarthy mumbled inarticulately, and his companion 
 pursued: "But to get to things nearer home, I want to 
 marry Sally. I've got the money, and she's got the 
 
THE LAND CLAIMERS 181 
 
 makings of a fine wife. And I guess youVe seen enough 
 of me to know that I'll treat my own folks pretty well." 
 
 From the chilly depths of the old man's heart a sudden 
 flicker of passion flamed up. Years of unrequited and 
 arduous toil had hardened him, beaten him down, cowed 
 his spirit. Now, for an instant, he saw hope of wealth and 
 idleness. The pioneer spirit which had led him into the 
 forest had soured into a dull obstinacy, a stubborn grasp- 
 ing for money; he hated the timber; he despised himself 
 for having so ill succeeded. And, profounder than all, 
 that desire to protect his child which flourishes best among 
 men who know from daily contact all the weariness of 
 labor, stirred within him at this subtle offer. He pon- 
 dered it slowly, with relish. 
 
 "I guess you won't find much trouble in making her 
 see it," he said, after a while. "Sally's a good girl. I'd 
 like to see her get a little the best of things. She's been 
 a good daughter." 
 
 "That's right," was the quick assent. "I know how 
 you feel about it. I 've hated to think of her spending all 
 her life in this timber, while you tried to make enough to 
 keep body and soul together. Of course, if she don't see 
 it that way, I won't be hard on you. I '11 buy your claim, 
 and that will pay what you owe me and the store at the 
 Agency. But I guess she will find I 'm a good husband all 
 right." 
 
182 THE LAND CLAINERS 
 
 The veiled threat wakened McCarthy almost to eager- 
 ness. 
 
 "Shell see it, all right," he assured White. "SaUy's 
 a good girl. She'll see it." 
 
 "I hope so — for both our sakes," was the response. 
 
 McCarthy shambled off to bed, and White smiled, to 
 himself, very slightly. He had distrusted McCarthy. 
 He knew too much. But then — "There's always a way 
 to handle a man," he remarked. His thoughts dwelt on 
 Sally. As much as in him lay, he loved her. "She's been 
 brought up real economical," he thought. "And she's a 
 peach to look at." 
 
 Later he went over and sat by the stove to plan the 
 punishment of Spencer and Hal Marini. As he meditated, 
 biting his nails and muttering curses, a new fear came over 
 him again, a physical and irremediable terror that weak- 
 ened his joints. " He said I was a four-flusher — a bluf- 
 fer," he repeated to himself, and knew that it was true. 
 He determined to keep out of Spencer's way and to avoid 
 Marini. 
 
CHAPTER XrV 
 
 HAL rose early and spent some time on his toilet. 
 He laughed at himself for doing so, for he reahzed 
 that it was because of the possibility that Miss Spencer 
 was young. She came from San Francisco. By an odd 
 but perfectly natural course of reasoning, he had deduced 
 from the fact that his mother knew and liked Spencer that 
 it was probable that Spencer^s sister belonged to a class 
 of society far above the one Spencer evidently was ac- 
 customed to. He felt that to come to such an out-of-the- 
 way spot would be disappointment enough. It would be 
 soothing to find a man there who still wore decent clothes 
 and acknowledged the sway of fashion. 
 
 On the trail to the McCarthy cabin he meditated on 
 this, losing in his sense of exile the pride he had had in 
 having contested Lim White. After all, what did that 
 amount to? Suppose he won it? Money was the sole 
 reward. It was quite certain that he would win it. The 
 money was as good as his. Like many another, Hal 
 affected to contemn wealth that he had. But it gave him 
 a feeling of superiority to his environment which was 
 
184 THE LAND CLAIMERS 
 
 very pleasant. He wondered how Miss Spencer would 
 look on Sally. Oddly enough, he felt some resentment 
 at the stranger's anticipated attitude. Pretty frocks and 
 impeccable grammar were n't everything. Sally would 
 put to shame any woman he knew, from pure beauty and 
 grace. Clothes and style were all she lacked — mere 
 superficial adjuncts, like the twenty thousand dollars he 
 would get when he sold his claim. 
 
 Consequently he was more effusive than usual when he 
 met Sally outside the cabin. She was dressed in the 
 inevitable short skirt and high leather boots, with a blue 
 flannel shirt to finish her costume. 
 
 "You're looking fine this morning," he said. "I 
 wonder what Miss Spencer will say to our timber? I 
 expect she's never seen anything like it before." 
 
 Sally accepted the "Miss Spencer" with only a faint 
 flash from her eyes. She remarked that she thought it 
 was lucky it was a good day. The wind had gone into the 
 east, and for that period one could look for fair weather. 
 "Then we'll get another storm," she said. 
 
 Hal sat down on the bench by the door and smoked, 
 while Sally finished her morning's work. Presently she 
 came out and sat beside him. 
 
 "They ought to be along pretty soon," she remarked. 
 She explained that it was likely that Spencer had got a 
 special rig to bring them from Toledo, as the stage rarely 
 
THE LAND CLAIMERS 185 
 
 made the trip when the mud was so deep. " That would 
 bring them here by noon," she said. "I heard Mr. Spen- 
 cer say something about getting the packer to bring 
 them in. Your — Miss Spencer could ride, nearly all the 
 way. That would be better than walking." 
 
 He agreed to this. " I did n't really figure out when 
 they would come," he admitted. "But I came over early. 
 I hope you don't mind." 
 
 "Mysakes!" she responded. "Why should I mind?" 
 
 " I don't know, unless because you don't like me." 
 
 "What made you think that?" She looked at him 
 frankly. 
 
 "Well — something. And the other day, when I said 
 something, you ran away, crying. I could n't make out 
 what I had done and so I decided that I had just got on 
 your feelings." 
 
 "You do, sometimes," she confessed. "But I like you." 
 
 "How do I get on your feelings — on your nerves?" he 
 demanded. 
 
 She glanced at him with mingled amusement and 
 earnestness. 
 
 "You're so sure of everything. You've come from 
 the East and brought along all your ideas and notions, 
 and you measure us all by them. Now — you think 
 I'm coarse and ignorant." 
 
 He started to protest. She refused to be halted. 
 
186 THELANDCLAIMERS 
 
 "Yes, you do. You compare me with the girls you 
 knew in the East, and what they do with what I do, 
 and you decide on the spot that I *m neither educated nor 
 refined. I dress roughly and I don't talk right. That's 
 what gets on my nerves." A note of repressed emotion 
 crept into her voice. " But why should you judge me by 
 those girls? I know — better than anybody else — that 
 I'm not as fine and delicate and nice as the girls you 
 like. But I Ve lived in the timber — in the Siletz — all 
 my life, and I 've had no chances. But when I hear your 
 cocksure opinions, I'm — I'm really glad I'm just what 
 I am!" She rose suddenly, her emotion receding and 
 leaving her cold. "But what does it matter? What do 
 you care for my notions? " 
 
 "A lot," he answered immediately. "I'm afraid I've 
 bored you to death." 
 
 "No! That's where I'm different. You're bored 
 by what you don't like and don't know about. But 
 I'm always anxious to know things. They don't bore 
 me." 
 
 "Very likely you could get some pointers from Miss 
 Spencer," he said ineptly. 
 
 "Very likely," was her dry assent. 
 
 She went inside, and he could not observe that from 
 that refuge she was looking at him with a strange ex- 
 pression of misery, anger and pity. The misery and the 
 
THE LAND CLAIMERS 187 
 
 anger gradually faded, but the pity remained and deep- 
 ened. She suddenly reaHzed, poignantly, how pro- 
 foundly he was to be disappointed. His mother, whom 
 he worshiped, who was the chief of women to him, 
 was to be thrust down from her pedestal, was coming 
 like a malefactor to look on her son — and then go 
 away. For Sally knew in her heart that no subter- 
 fuge could be quite successful. No matter how strictly 
 the pretense of "Miss Spencer" was kept up, there 
 would be a subtle taint on his ideal of his mother. 
 And, profounder still, was Sally's resolution to try this 
 young man in the fire, to make plain to him who his mother 
 was, that all his memories, his thoughts and his dreams 
 of her were false, without foundation. No one could 
 compel her to yield up this conviction that, after all, the 
 truth must be told. If he was ashamed, if he disowned 
 his mother, that treachery was unmasked and punished. 
 If he played the manly part, how much better for the 
 mother, for Hal and for Spencer. Womanlike, there was 
 a silent, almost unconscious reservation to this. Flos- 
 setta Marini must be worthy. Sally was not going to 
 sacrifice — and she knew the extent of the sacrifice — 
 this son for an undeserving mother. Possibly, had she 
 analyzed her motives, which she did not, she would have 
 confessed that Hal's happiness really was a concern to 
 her. However that may be, she went out of the cabin, at 
 
188 THE LAND CLAIMERS 
 
 the sound of a halloo, to see what kind of woman this 
 Flossetta Marini was, and whether she was worth the 
 affection of two men and the self-sacrifice of one. 
 
 She was glad when she reached the door and saw the 
 picture that Hal made, standing out in the clearing, 
 waving his hand to Spencer who was tramping down the 
 narrow, undulating trail. For one instant she discerned 
 the great difference between him and all the other men 
 she had known: he was youthful, full of life and hope 
 and ambition and dreams, untouched by the sordid con- 
 ditions of an existence that had driven her father and 
 all the rest like animals to bay. Then she perceived, 
 with amusement, the figure just behind Spencer. 
 
 The pack horse, on which Flossetta Marini had made 
 the trip from the Agency into the timber, had been left 
 a mile from the McCarthy cabin. The packer had turned 
 back, and Spencer and his guest were now completing 
 the longest mile that the actress had ever walked. Her 
 big, flapping hat was barely anchored to her loosened 
 hair, and the plumes and flowers on it seemed maintain- 
 ing a perilous balance by wild exertion. Her dress, of 
 the kind that looks best in a Pullman, had been disar- 
 ranged and torn by the heavy undergrowi:h. As she 
 stepped wearily upon a log that lay across the trail, 
 Sally detected thin, enameled slippers. A parasol, evi- 
 dently serving as a hand-bag, completed a toilet that 
 
'You 're Mr. Spencer's sister, aren't you?' Sally said " 
 
 Page 189 
 
THE LAND CLAIMERS 189 
 
 was both amazing and pitiful. Sally, withdrawing slightly 
 into the doorway, smiled, wiped sudden moisture from 
 her eyes, and then stepped out again. She caught 
 Spencer*s tired look, flashed him a tender smile and 
 slipped across the clearing towards them, past Hal and 
 up to the old woman, who halted, breathing harshly 
 through pale lips, and staring at her son. 
 
 "You're Mr. Spencer's sister, aren't you?" Sally 
 said, shaking hands and reaching out for the bulging 
 parasol. "My sakes! but you must be tired! Come 
 right on down into the house." 
 
 Flossetta surrendered the parasol, gave a weary dab 
 at her hat and followed Sally down the trail and into the 
 clearing. Spencer, assuming an air of profound and in- 
 extinguishable joviality, brought up the rear and dragged 
 a huge suit-case behind him. As they came up to Hal, 
 Spencer called out: "Come and meet my sister. Shake 
 hands with Hal Marini, Miss Fl — Flora." 
 
 Hal stepped forward politely and was astonished to 
 find his hand clutched fiercely. He stared at the woman 
 in some confusion. She saw his embarrassment and in- 
 stantly dropped his hand. "I'm so glad to see one of 
 Sim*s friends that I think they must be mine," she said, 
 in an oddly full, vibrant voice. He thought, meeting her 
 hurried glance, that her eyes were faded and weary. 
 Sally, more shrewd, knew the signal for tears and swept 
 
190 THE LAND CLAIMERS 
 
 her guest away by main force, calling back cheerfully to 
 the men to make themselves at home. 
 
 Spencer, lifting the suit-case carefully into the cabin, 
 closed the door and took a seat on the bench. Hal, in 
 great confusion still, and wondering whether anybody 
 had noticed the preposterous actions of Miss Spencer, 
 strode back and forth and smoked furiously. 
 
 "That's a tough trip," Spencer remarked. "Specially 
 on a delicate lady like my sister." 
 
 "I hope she won't feel any the worse for it," Hal said 
 politely. 
 
 "I hope she won't. But there ain't many fine ladies 
 would come all this way to see a relative." 
 
 Hal assented, thinking of how horrible his mother 
 would have found the trail, the hotel at the Agency and 
 the hovels in the timber. But this sister of Spencer's — 
 what in the world did his mother mean by taking up with 
 such people? The woman was impossible. She was fifty, 
 if she was a day, and she was evidently "soft" (he had 
 heard that unmarried females sometimes grew quite dis- 
 gustingly effusive and flirtatious with age); and what 
 did she mean by seizing his hand so affectionately? 
 
 Spencer's smile grew more strained, but Hal did not 
 notice it in his absorption in this fresh subject for thought. 
 He was glad he had not said anything about his expecta- 
 tions and deductions as to Miss Spencer's youth and 
 
THE LAND CLAIMERS 191 
 
 fashion. But then ^ it struck him as inexplicable — 
 there was a feeling stirring within him that he would like 
 to protect this woman. She must have come a long way! 
 She was really quite old, and her dress showed that she 
 had had no inkling of what the timber held of roughness 
 and discomfort. • . . 
 
 Within the cabin two women stood staring at each 
 other, one young, breathless and downcast, the other 
 miserably trying to maintain a careless and smiling in- 
 difference to her wretched state. Sally tried to say 
 many things, to urge her guest to take off her wraps and 
 rest; she intended to inquire whether she was hungry, 
 whether she needed a nap. And all that she could do 
 was to meet that brave, pitiful stare. Suddenly Flos- 
 setta Marini stumbled forward a step. Strong arms 
 caught her, held her. Sally's confusion was swept away. 
 
 " My sakes 1" she whispered. " You *re just worn out ! " 
 
 "It'll kill me!" Flossetta panted. "Spencer told me 
 that you knew — that you would help. Did you see how 
 he looked at me? My God!" 
 
 "Hush! They'll hear us," Sally warned her gently. 
 "You're just fagged out. Lie down now, and I'll get 
 you some clothes out of your grip." 
 
 She made the elder woman lie down and opened the 
 suit-case. She closed it again, without a word, and went 
 to her own retreat back of the calico curtain whence she 
 
192 THELANDCLAIMERS 
 
 shortly emerged with some of her own clothes. Flossetta 
 glanced at her weakly. 
 
 ''I did n't bring any — any warm clothes." 
 
 "IVe got plenty. Don't worry. These men! I sup- 
 pose Mr. Spencer never said a word about what sort of a 
 land this was. Now you lie still while I get things ready." 
 
 An hour later Spencer and Hal were invited in. "We'll 
 have a good dinner," Sally said, "and we'll all feel better. 
 You look pretty nearly tuckered out, Mr. Spencer." 
 
 "I've heard that I could n't cook," that gentleman re- 
 plied airily, "but since I've ate in them hotels outside 
 I know I can cook. It's the other fellow that can't. I 
 wonder my — my sister ever stood it this far." 
 
 They tramped in, and Hal sought a seat in a far corner 
 whence he could look out and be silent. He was tired of 
 the whole thing. He wondered how long this woman 
 was going to stay. 
 
 Flossetta sat behind the stove, deep in the shadow. 
 Hal could distinguish nothing except the pallor of her 
 face. In the poor light she looked quite youthful. She 
 said nothing, and Spencer, after one or two ineffectual 
 attempts to elicit a word from her, gave it up and de- 
 voted himself to joking with Sally. 
 
 When the meal was on the table, Hal and Spencer 
 came forward and Sally called: "Come and sit up to 
 dinner, Miss Spencer. It ain't fine, but it's hot." 
 
THE LAND CLAIMERS 193 
 
 As the guest slowly emerged, Hal dropped his fork 
 clattering to the floor, and Spencer, his dark eyes gleam- 
 ing with sudden and mysterious flame, choked audibly. 
 For the bedraggled and withered woman who had entered 
 the cabin had disappeared. In her stead a comely, de- 
 mure and attractive woman came forward. She was 
 dressed in a blue flannel shirt and a short skirt. A red 
 tie and carefully coiled hair added to her charm. With 
 a sure, if languid, grace she slipped into a chair and looked 
 at Hal with warm tremulous eyes. Spencer, in a wild 
 paroxysm of coughing, left the table. Flossetta's eyes 
 left Hal and followed him anxiously. 
 
 "Is his cough always so bad?" she asked softly. 
 
 "It's pretty bad sometimes," Sally replied, helping 
 her guests; "but he never complains." 
 
 "He never did," was the response. "Sim Spencer 
 never was a quitter." 
 
 Hal stared. It was impossible, this transfiguration. 
 His eyes had fooled him. This was certainly not the 
 slovenly, ill-dressed, elderly female whom he had pitied 
 so superciliously an hour before. He was silent. 
 
 Spencer returned, very pale and weak. As he sat 
 down again, his eyes rested on his supposed sister. She 
 glanced at him shyly. " Sim, you have n*t been takin' 
 care of yourself." 
 
 "YouVe done pretty well," he answered. "I never 
 
194 THE LAND CLAIMERS 
 
 seen you look better. You look just like you did twenty 
 years ago, when you was playin' in 'The Danites.'" 
 He ignored her quick gesture of warning and stared at 
 the ceiling. "Twenty years ago! More! Pretty near 
 thirty!" 
 
 "And Fm still playin' that part/' she said, in a clear, 
 vibrant voice. "I'm still as good at it as ever, Sim!" 
 
 He slowly took in her meaning. 
 
 Hal broke the silence by asking abruptly: "Did you 
 know my mother on the stage. Miss Spencer?" 
 
 "She and I were together several years," was the 
 reply. 
 
 He smiled, easily. "You must tell me about her," he 
 went on. " I Ve never seen her since I was a kid." 
 
 The ice thus broken, the little party gossiped and 
 chatted, while Sally pressed Spencer to eat more, sur- 
 reptitiously passing tid-bits to him and frowning when 
 he rejected them. Miss Spencer, to be sure, took little 
 part in the conversation, and confined her words to an 
 occasional " Yes " or " Is that so? " 
 
 After dinner* Hal refused all invitations to stay and 
 left for home, remarking that Spencer and his sister 
 would have much to talk about. His thoughts were in a 
 tumult. He retraced all the events of the past months 
 since he had arrived in the Siletz; but he made little of 
 it. It amounted, he concluded, to his being involved in 
 
THE LAND CLAIMERS 195 
 
 a lawsuit and standing a good chance to win twenty 
 thousand dollars. Then he proceeded to meditate on 
 Miss Spencer's coming and the incomprehensible change 
 in her appearance, dress and manner. 
 
 In the McCarthy cabin his employer was trying to 
 understand what Flossetta Marini meant when she re- 
 fused to promise to visit his cabin, even for an hour, and 
 asserted that she was going back to civilization. 
 
 "But youVe just come," he insisted. "You ain't 
 been here hardly an hour, and here you're for pickin' 
 up and leavin'. What's the matter?" 
 
 Flossetta leaned forward, with a girlish and delightful 
 grace. " Don't I look as young as ever? " she demanded. 
 
 Spencer looked at her hungrily. "Ye look as pretty as 
 when I first knew you." 
 
 "It's just acting," she said stonily. "I saw how Hal 
 looked at me when I came. And Miss McCarthy handed 
 me the same sort of clothes I used to wear before Hal 
 was born, when I was playing in the old theatre on Mont- 
 gomery Street, in San Francisco. So it struck me maybe 
 I was up to the old tricks." She stared at him with 
 faded eyes. "But I'm old, Sim. Vaudeville's taken all 
 the spring out of me. And this is the last act. I 'm going 
 to quit now. If you want to, you can tell Hal it was his 
 mother — after I'm gone away. I can't keep it up be- 
 cause — because -^ he's my little boy ! " 
 
196 THE LAND CLAIMERS 
 
 Sally glanced at them. Beneath the false color and 
 the forced smile she discerned the aged and worn woman. 
 Truly she had been amazed at the eagerness with which 
 this strange woman had adopted her dress, had worked 
 over her hair and slaved before the mirror. Now she 
 understood what it all meant. It was the actress em- 
 ploying her arts for a final appearance. But her fresh 
 spirit could not understand this acceptance of an evil and 
 forlorn fate. Why should Mrs. Marini abandon her son, 
 whom she loved? Why should she refuse to try his 
 affection and his manliness by explaining who she was 
 and the claims she had on him? She reached out and 
 touched Spencer's hand. . 
 
 "Why don't you tell Hal?" she demanded. 
 
 "No! no!" cried his mother. "I couldn't stand it. 
 He's always been told I was rich and fashionable, and 
 lived in a fine house in San Francisco. He'd despise 
 me!" 
 
 "Why did you tell him that?" she demanded im- 
 placably. 
 
 There was a dull silence. Spencer rolled a cigarette 
 and lit it with a trembling hand, while Flossetta stared 
 out at the dark forest that edged up to the very 
 window. 
 
 "I don't know," she said finally and as if the words 
 were dragged from her. " He used to think I was pretty 
 
THE LAND CLAIMERS 197 
 
 and beautiful. I always wanted him to think so. So — 
 so I let him think so. His father could n't stand a 
 homely woman." 
 
 "You are — still," Spencer croaked. "You're just as 
 lovely as ever." 
 
 "Much obliged, Sim. I know you think so. You 
 always were a good friend. But I know better. I'm 
 forty-three. I've been playing since I was sixteen. And 
 the jig 's up. I'm going away. I've — I've seen — my 
 — my son." She put her face on her hands and sobbed. 
 
 Sally leaned over her and laid a fresh, cool hand on 
 her head. "He's your son," she said softly; "so trust 
 him." 
 
 But her confidence was shared by neither Spencer nor 
 the mother. Spencer merely shook his head, as much as 
 to say that it was useless. And Flossetta sobbed miser- 
 ably over the event of her lie. Sally forebore to press 
 the subject. Her own mind was made up. In her own 
 good time she would tell this young man that it was his 
 mother who had come into the forest to see him, to assure 
 herself that he was all right, before she went away to die. 
 What she said was: "You can keep on doing this — 
 this play acting?" 
 
 The ghost of the former beauty looked out of the tired 
 eyes of Flossetta. "Not long," she murmured. 
 
 Spencer rose and took down his cap and jacket. " I '11 
 
198 THE LAND CLAIMERS 
 
 be movin' on/' he said awkwardly. "I'll just leave you 
 with Sally, Miss Flossetta. You're tired and need sleep." 
 He paused in the doorway to stare at her reassuringly. 
 " Don't lose your nerve. You just leave it to Sim. He'll 
 fix things all right." The door closed on him. 
 
 He walked home slowly, revolving in his mind all that 
 he still had to do. "I gotta make some weight," he mut- 
 tered to himself. " It ain't no use in tryin' to make Flos- 
 setta go to Hal and tell him. And I '11 bet he would n't 
 more'n half believe it, anyway. But I'll fix things!" 
 
 The cabin had never seemed blanker of interest than 
 it did to Hal when he returned after greeting his em- 
 ployer's sister, as he supposed. He mooned round for an 
 hour and then suddenly bethought him of Miss Rey- 
 nolds, the school teacher. He had discovered a day or so 
 before that her claim lay across a section from Spencer's, 
 and was to be reached by an over-grown trail turning off 
 not a quarter of a mile from where Spencer's trail began. 
 In his present mood of restlessness it needed only the 
 suggestion to send him off to visit her. He found the 
 trail, barely traceable in the brush, and was soon busily 
 fighting his way over it. 
 
 Miss Fletcher, like most, had bought a relinquishment. 
 Her cabin, built in the "stockade" fashion, with walls 
 of upright hemlock saplings, stood in the center of a very 
 
THE LAND CLAIMERS 199 
 
 small clearing, which was traversed by a brook. Hal 
 found her busy outside tending an infinitesimal brush 
 fire that represented her efforts to obey the law that she 
 should clear more ground each season. He was pleased to 
 observe that she was dressed like women "outside/' as 
 he had learned to term the world beyond the boundaries 
 of the Siletz reservation, and his feeling was intensified 
 when he saw that she wore gloves. She received him 
 formally, shaking hands with him and asking him if he 
 enjoyed the good weather. 
 
 " I had n't made my party call on you yet," he said, 
 taking the trowel out of her hand and setting himself to 
 work. " I suppose you think I don't owe you one, as you 
 never entertained me. But I enjoyed your society so 
 much Christmas day that I felt I really owed you the 
 tribute of a call." 
 
 Her smile was pleasant. " I did n't know whether 
 you'd ever come and see me or not," she answered. "As 
 a matter of fact, I don't expect to see anybody and so 
 I'm surprised." 
 
 "Now I hope you're pleased, too," he returned. 
 
 "Quite so." 
 
 They talked of the loneliness of the timber, of the 
 oddity of their neighbors, for a while. " I really enjoyed 
 that dinner at Miss McCarthy's," she said presently. 
 "But did you ever see such an aggregation?" 
 
200 THE LAND CLAIMERS 
 
 " Never," he replied. " But I rather Hke them." 
 
 She was indifferent. "1 confess they bore me. Not 
 that they are n't good folks and all that. But then — " 
 
 "You mean they're not our sort?" 
 
 "I suppose so," she said, with a smile. "Aren't we 
 horrid?" 
 
 He disagreed with her. "After all, each one of us has 
 to live our own life," he concluded sagely. 
 
 "Isn't that true?" she acquiesced. "I am just be- 
 ginning to realize how absurd these socialists are; are n't 
 they the people that claim we must all do the same thing 
 and have the same social position?" 
 
 "I think they do. But here's you and me — doing 
 just what they say is the right thing." 
 
 She grimaced prettily. " But I 'm doing it just for the 
 money." 
 
 "Same here," he responded. 
 
 "Then we sha'n't stay here after we get it, shall we? 
 Aren't you glad?" 
 
 As she talked on he liked her more and more. There 
 was a certain sureness, poise, reserve about her that 
 satisfied him, he thought. She was evidently a girl of 
 good social position. He wondered why she needed the 
 money; it must be hard on her; she was plucky! And 
 having reached this conclusion, he admired her vastly. 
 
 Among other things she told him that part of the ex- 
 
THE LAND CLAIMERS 201 
 
 pense she had to bear was that of a companion. "Of 
 course I could n't come out here and Uve by myself/* she 
 explained. "I know everybody does. But do you think 
 it just the thing?" 
 
 He confessed he did n't know. It had n't occurred to 
 him. She settled the question definitely and, he thought, 
 with great deHcacy by saying: "I don't see as what's 
 right at home is n't right in the wilderness. So I have a 
 companion. She 's away, visiting with some people up the 
 trail, or else I'd ask you in." Later she remarked that 
 she was going to call on Miss McCarthy the next day. 
 
 "She's got a visitor now," he told her. "Mr. Spencer's 
 sister is staying with her." 
 
 "How interesting! Is she anything like Mr. Spencer? 
 Is n't he a wonder? " 
 
 "He's got lots of good qualities," he said stiffly. 
 
 "Of course! But he's funny! I sha'n't rest till I see 
 his sister. I feel sure she's interesting." 
 
 When Hal reached the cabin, Spencer was already in 
 bed. 
 
 "I'm sort of fagged," he explained hoarsely. "So I 
 hit the straw." 
 
 Hal nodded and turned up the lamp. "I should think 
 you would be. I hope your sister won't suffer from her 
 trip." 
 
 Spencer made no answer and Hal, lighting his pipe, 
 
202 THE LAND CLAIMERS 
 
 sat down to dream of wealth and fame. Miss Fletcher's 
 cool face and calm eyes rose before him, and he gave her 
 a share in his plans. After all, when he did marry, he 
 would marry in his own class. In his loneliness the 
 genius of propinquity had found a chance to subjugate 
 him. Already he was half in love with the ex-school 
 teacher. For he was young and ardent, and filled with 
 vague desires and ambitions, and the presence of a woman 
 was needful for their ripening. He determined to see 
 Miss Fletcher frequently. 
 
CHAPTER XV 
 
 THE dawn came soon after Spencer had had his 
 breakfast. It had turned cold. The trees were 
 still, rising gauntly into a cheerless sky. Their great limbs 
 were covered with frost, and every little bunch of grass 
 in the clearing was hoar and crisp with it. The frigid 
 air seemed to Spencer to shrivel the flesh on his bones. 
 The intense silence strained his nerves. He restlessly 
 washed the dishes and brought in more wood for the 
 fire before he left the cabin and Hal, sound asleep, 
 for the trail. 
 
 When he got in sight of the McCarthy cabin, he saw a 
 cloud of gray smoke rising from the chimney and knew 
 that Sally was getting breakfast. It was very early, but 
 the fashion of the timber is different from that of the 
 cities, and he unhesitatingly crossed the clearing and 
 knocked at the door. Sally called "Come in," and he 
 entered, to discover her busy over the stove. Flossetta 
 Marini, still dressed in Sally's clothes, was setting the 
 table. She greeted him warmly, and he glowed with 
 pleasure. 
 
204 THE LAND CLAIMERS 
 
 " Pretty soon, ain't it ? " he remarked. " But then I 
 was achin' to know how you got along. Sally treat you 
 all right?" 
 
 "Yes. She is very kind. I went right to bed after you 
 left and I really slept fine. Honest I did, Sim." Her 
 eyes for one instant took on a lively and witching co- 
 quetry that Sim remembered of old. That look had first 
 conquered his heart, and he responded to it like a horse to 
 the whip. He swaggered a little as he drew a chair out to 
 the middle of the room and sat down, with an air. 
 
 "This life next to nature is the thing," he remarked. 
 "I found it so. Look at me! Ain't I growin'. Miss 
 Sally?" 
 
 She glanced over at him, smiling. "Yes, you're putting 
 on weight every day." 
 
 His face suddenly grew grim. "Yes. Weight. That's 
 what I need." He relapsed into silence. 
 
 Flossetta seemed somewhat puzzled by this change of 
 demeanor. Sally noticed her bewilderment and explained 
 it. "Mr. Spencer's got a row on with some people here 
 and he's getting ready to lick them." She laughed at the 
 jest. 
 
 "I hope Hal's doing all right," his mother said quickly. 
 
 "Oh, he ain't in it," was the curt reply. "It's just me 
 and another fellow." 
 
 "Your son has taken up one of the best claims in the 
 
THE LAND CLAIMERS 205 
 
 reservation/' Sally hastened on, warned by Spencer's 
 glance. "He'll make several thousand dollars on it." 
 
 "Thanks, Sim," Flossetta said simply. She bent over 
 the table, and he saw her thin hand tremble over the 
 dishes. 
 
 All his love for her, his profound and unselfish affection, 
 seemed to have suddenly achieved its reward. Before 
 his dim eyes, dim with unaccustomed moisture, she re- 
 sumed the youth and beauty of the girl he had known 
 years before. A manlier chord was touched, too. Instead 
 of allowing his intimate and deep emotion at this great 
 acknowledgment to discover itself, to embarrass her, he 
 choked back what he had on his lips and threw out a 
 brave hand carelessly. 
 
 " I did n't have nothin' to do with it. Hal 's a foxy lad. 
 He picked it up himself. He '11 be a fine man, with money 
 to burn." 
 
 " I 'm glad," she said quietly. " It '11 make things easier 
 for — for me." 
 
 "Cheer up!" he urged lightly. 
 
 She turned on him. "I know I'm a death's-head," she 
 said. " But I 've tried to stand between my boy and this 
 wretched, miserable world. You don't know how I've 
 prayed — yes, prayed, right in my dressing-room in the 
 theater, that Hal might be a noble man and be happy. 
 And I was right, all the time. I knew he'd never have 
 
206 THE LANDCLAIMERS 
 
 forgiven me, if heM known all that I had to do. He's 
 had the best education money could buy, and IVe been 
 dancing an' singing in vaudeville! And I'm glad I'm 
 old, too. If I were n't, I 'd try to make him love me and 
 know I was a good mother and have a good time with me 
 and go to places with me — and he 'd hate me. But 
 I'm old and worn out and — and — " she burst into 
 tears. 
 
 "Cheer up. Miss Flossetta!" Spencer implored her. 
 
 She raised her twisted face and confronted them both. 
 "I'm silly, I know. But I'm tired. And somehow I'd 
 hoped maybe Hal would recognize me. Of course I'm 
 glad he did n't. How could the boy? He did n't know 
 his mother was a miserable old woman with thin shoes 
 and a torn dress." 
 
 Spencer stumbled to his feet and went to the door. As 
 he stared out, and the chill air penetrated him, he saw, 
 with strange pangs, the vista of life. He had never before 
 caught both the beginning and the end of an existence 
 that was too varied to afford leisure for contemplation. 
 Now he saw both the first and the last of his prime. It 
 began, how plainly he saw it! in a dingy dressing-room 
 littered with all the paraphernalia of an actress. Standing 
 before the mirror, adjusting her bewitching bonnet over 
 her curls, he saw Flossetta. He saw her turn round and 
 say softly : " I 'm sorry, Sim. But I 'm going to be married 
 
THE LAND CLAIMERS 207 
 
 day after to-morrow." She continued to arrange her 
 pretty bonnet. 
 
 That had ended his romance. He had gone out, blindly, 
 with love still warm in his heart, deepened by the rever- 
 ence every man has for a woman who has kept herself 
 apart for the man she loved. And now, in the midst of 
 the vast, cold, sunless forest, a mother was sobbing for 
 her first-born, her only son, a woman who had struggled 
 against poverty, against misery, against the world that she 
 might save that son. He had hoped — without admitting 
 it to himself — that it might be possible for him to take 
 this weary woman away from all her troubles and protect 
 her and cherish her. But it was impossible. He had lost 
 his strength and his money. All that stood between him 
 and utter poverty was a bill of a small denomination. His 
 duty was the same as it had always been: to do his best, 
 to be her one sincere friend. And that meant to put Hal 
 safely in possession of his claim. 
 
 So, at eight o'clock in the morning of a frosty April 
 day, Sim Spencer came to the end of his romance, of his 
 hopes, of his joy in life, while a woman sobbed. 
 
 He turned slowly back into the cabin and said curtly, 
 " I guess if there 's any breakfast to spare, I '11 have some. 
 Miss SaUy." 
 
 " There 's lots of it," was the reply. " Now, Mrs. Marini, 
 you just cheer up and eat something. I '11 bet Mr. Spencer 
 
208 THE LAND CLAIMERS 
 
 will fix everything just as you'd rather have it. And Hal 
 loves his mother and will love her, no matter what she 
 says." 
 
 "That's right," Spencer assented hoarsely. 
 
 After breakfast he split wood and brought in water 
 from the spring, while the women washed the dishes. 
 Presently he heard Flossetta's old laugh. He Hstened, 
 with great satisfaction. "All she needs is some man to 
 depend on," he thought. "This buttin' round without a 
 man is h — 1." 
 
 By ten o'clock there was a discussion whether Hal 
 might not be expected. Before this was settled Miss 
 Fletcher appeared, quite stunningly appareled. Her 
 gloved hand rested in Mrs. Marini's just long enough to 
 assure that perplexed soul that this newcomer was slightly 
 contemptuous. But she did not resent this. As the 
 desultory conversation made the usual round of Siletz 
 gossip, varied now and then by a remark from Miss 
 Fletcher indicative of her small interest in it, she grew 
 watchful. She heard Hal's name mentioned. " He called 
 yesterday afternoon," Miss Fletcher said carelessly. "I 
 think he's an odd chap to be here in the timber. It's 
 really strange to see a well-educated man in this 
 wilderness." 
 
 Sally turned the conversation coldly. She did not know 
 that Flossetta Marini, resenting the fact that her son had 
 
THE LAND CLAIMERS 209 
 
 left her to call on this woman, took keen delight in this 
 praise of him, knowing that her efforts had not been in 
 vain. He met with the approval of the "best people" 
 among whom she classed this cool, rather supercilious 
 school teacher. 
 
 Miss Fletcher, having stayed a half-hour, left, leaving 
 behind her an atmosphere of faint perfume and superi- 
 ority. When she had gone, the discussion was renewed 
 as to whether Hal might be expected. In this opinions 
 varied. Sally thought he might; Spencer was not sure. 
 "He's pretty busy," he alleged. "And you ought to see 
 the way he sticks to his work!" 
 
 As a matter of fact, Hal, rising at eight o'clock, had got 
 his breakfast and decided to go over to the McCarthy's. 
 "It's only decent to show Spencer that I like his sister," 
 he thought. "And really she's not so bad looking. I'd 
 like to ask her more about mother." 
 
 On the way he met Miss Fletcher. The sight of this 
 placid young woman, well gowned and apparently indif- 
 ferent to her surroundings, pleased him. She represented 
 for the moment all that he considered best in life; besides, 
 he was, as has been said, half in love with her as the only 
 available person — a great factor in matrimony. She 
 consented to sit down on a log, under the branches of a 
 stray alder, and he seated himself beside her. 
 
 "I'm just back from a visit to Miss McCarthy," she 
 
210 THE LAND CLAIMERS 
 
 said quietly. "Really, Mr. Spencer's sister is just what I 
 expected. She's a middle-aged woman dressed like a 
 debutante. I suppose he thinks she's stunning!" 
 
 "She's been on the stage," he said in excuse. 
 
 Miss Fletcher raised her eyebrows. "That accounts 
 for it, then. I never met any stage people before, but I 've 
 often wondered what they would be like. That makes it 
 quite interesting." 
 
 This he resented bitterly. But he did not know how to 
 explain that his own mother was an actress, though a 
 famous one, and so said nothing. Miss Fletcher, whose 
 interest in Sally and her guest was transient, turned 
 the conversation into other channels. After chatting 
 for a few minutes, she said she must go on. "I thought 
 I 'd try that trail you told me of the other day — yester- 
 day. So I must be moving on, or I'll be late for 
 luncheon." 
 
 "You'd better let me show you the way," he volun- 
 teered quickly. 
 
 "No. If I can't find it, I'll ask you to show me. But 
 I'd rather find it myself, now." 
 
 He tried to insist, but she refused to consider it and left 
 him highly indignant, with a sense of having been rebuked 
 for presumption. His indignation was short-lived, how- 
 ever, for he soon saw that it was only another exhibition 
 of her inborn refinement. 
 
THE LAND CLAIMERS 211 
 
 When he reached the McCarthy's, Spencer was smoking 
 on the bench by the door. To his query as to "Miss 
 Spencer's" health, his employer answered him that she 
 was well. "Go in and ask her herself," he suggested. 
 
 Sally received him with unusual coldness. He felt this, 
 but decided that it was probably due to Miss Fletcher's 
 recent call. "That would stir Sally up," he thought, con- 
 scious that the school teacher took little pains to conceal 
 her contempt for the natives of the timber. But he was 
 more puzzled than ever when Miss Spencer almost refused 
 to speak to him. He sat down and broached several topics 
 of conversation with the same result, silence. Presently 
 he rose and remarked, querulously: "I guess I'd better 
 be going back. I only stopped in to see how you both 
 •were." 
 
 Sally, suddenly stricken with remorse, shook her head. 
 "You can't go yet. Miss Spencer here is aching to tell 
 you about her acquaintance with your mother. And you 
 have n't been poHte enough to ask her to say a word 
 about it." 
 
 He was inwardly relieved and soothed. He glanced 
 over at the quiet, shy-looking woman across the room and 
 smiled. "I've been trying to talk about everything 
 except what I was thinking about," he said frankly. 
 
 "You must have seen Miss Fletcher lately," Sally re- 
 marked sharply. 
 
212 THE LAND CLAIMERS 
 
 He ignored this and turned again to the other woman. 
 "I'm prouder of my mother than you have any idea of/' 
 he said, "and I'd Uke to know all about her. Have you 
 seen her lately? How is she?" 
 
 "She's pretty well, I guess," came the words falteringly. 
 
 "When did you see her last?" 
 
 "It was some time ago. You see she — she hasn't 
 been playing for so long!" 
 
 "Of course. You know, when I was in the academy, 
 she used to send me programmes. But lately she has n't 
 sent me any, or any notices from the papers. I suppose 
 she's enjoying herself and resting." 
 
 "Miss Spencer" glanced pleadingly at Sally, and that 
 watchful girl took him up scornfully. 
 
 "You're too proud to live, I declare. You can't 
 imagine your mother doing anything but sitting round 
 with her hands folded and somebody fanning her." 
 
 " She certainly does n't work, for she does n't have to," 
 he said offendedly. 
 
 "And you look down on us that have to work," Sally 
 continued sharply. 
 
 Spencer opened the door at this moment and announced 
 the arrival of the packer from the Agency. They all 
 went to the door and Flossetta, from behind Sally, watched 
 the slow progress of the pack-horse down the slippery 
 trail into the clearing. The packer, his animal safely 
 
THE LAND CLAIMERS 213 
 
 grazing on the crisp, frozen grass, came up and handed 
 out letters to each one. "Thought maybe you fellows 
 would n't be over for a spell and I 'd bring your mail. I 
 was goin' in to Bailey's and might just as well come on 
 here." 
 
 Sally drew him aside and gave him a large order for 
 groceries. "If you can fetch 'em in to-morrow it'll help 
 some," she said. 
 
 "Sure," the packer answered. "I'd do more'n that 
 for you. Miss McCarthy. Got comp'ny?" 
 
 "Yes. Spencer's sister. Now you be sure and bring 
 those things, or I'll have to get some of the boys to 
 make the trip over before the weather breaks." 
 
 "And it's goin' to break," he returned. "It'll storm 
 considerable when it starts in." 
 
 Hal had taken the single letter that was his and he 
 now sought out Spencer to show it to him. Spencer 
 read the oflficial note and smiled slightly. "I guess Lim 
 got worried and he wants this thing fixed up right 
 away." 
 
 "Everybody told me it would be six months before I 
 got a chance to have a hearing," was Hal's comment. 
 " And here they set it for six weeks from today. I wonder 
 what's up?" 
 
 "Don't worry about it," Spencer responded. "The 
 sooner the better for you and me." 
 
214 THE LAND CLAIMERS 
 
 But the news that the trial of the contest was fixed for 
 only a few weeks ahead was discussed after the packer 
 left, and Hal, without concealing his suspicions, averred 
 hotly that he had been "done." He asserted that that 
 meant that White would already have offered final proof 
 the day before, and that this hurrying forward of the con- 
 test must simply be to clear his title so that he could sell 
 and get his money. Spencer accepted this view as prob- 
 able but sniffed at Hal's fears. "It'll be all over but the 
 shoutin' when it comes off," he aflBrmed, and would say 
 no more. 
 
 To all this Flossetta listened intently, now and then 
 straining her tired face into an expression of negligent 
 placidity when she thought Hal glanced her way. When 
 Spencer finally said it was time to be going, and Hal got 
 his cap, she re-entered the house with a weary step. It 
 seemed as though all her wild hopes were dashed to the 
 ground; her son grew farther and farther away every 
 hour. She began to feel poignantly that her mistake had 
 been one extending over many years, that her deception 
 had endured too long ever to be overthrown. And Spencer, 
 seeking her out, hardly recognized the woman he wor- 
 shiped distantly. 
 
 "Look here, cheer up!" he urged. "You and Sally 
 are comin' over to-morrow to our place. I gotta do a 
 heap of things the next few days and IVe gotta be at 
 
THE LAND CLAIM ERS 215 
 
 them. But you come over and you — you cheer up I" 
 He could think of nothing more definite to say, for his 
 plans were now fixed, and the objects he had to attain 
 were ever present before his eyes. From now on he 
 must give all his time — every minute of it — to assur- 
 ing Hal his claim. Of all the desires of his heart this 
 alone remained in the realm of possibility. But he 
 would accomplish that. 
 
 After they were gone, Sally prepared a dinner which 
 neither she nor her guest enjoyed. Both were absorbed 
 in their own thoughts. And after the dishes were washed, 
 Sally excused herself and departed into the timber, leav- 
 ing Flossetta to dream and cry by herself. 
 
 An hour later Sally slipped down a slender log that 
 slanted from the foot of a hill across a small, sandy- 
 floored basin, into which a spring discharged its clear 
 waters, traversed a weedy garden patch and unlocked 
 the door of a very diminutive cabin. She left the door 
 open behind her and emerged promptly with a broom, 
 which she employed to sweep some blown leaves and 
 fir needles from the little porch. Shortly afterward a 
 thin spiral of smoke from the stove-pipe gave notice that 
 a fire had been started. While it was crackling in the 
 sheet-iron "camper's treasure," she took her place in 
 the doorway and surveyed the garden with calculating 
 eyes. "I'll plant spuds this year, I guess," she thought. 
 
216 THE LAND CLAIM ERS 
 
 "That and some cabbages. I wonder how those sweet 
 peas are growing." 
 
 It is necessary to explain that this cabin and this 
 garden represented a part of Sally's life that no one 
 knew about and which she carefully kept concealed 
 from every one. In order to make plain how it was that 
 she possessed a house and garden whose very existence 
 was unknown even to her father, it must be stated that 
 she had come into it, as one says of property, by an acci- 
 dent, and that this accident was the result of an uneasy 
 sense on the part of a homesteader that he had not lived 
 up to the spirit of the law under which the Government 
 grants one hundred and sixty acres of land to the 
 pioneer. 
 
 If there is one word that applies to the attitude of the 
 Government in all its dealings with the homesteader, it 
 is one that denotes suspicion. No matter how upright 
 a man's life, how plain and righteous his motives, how 
 kind his heart, how honest his ways, it is only needful 
 for him to apply for Government land to throw sus- 
 picion not only on his blameless past, but on his indus- 
 trious present and every act that he may perform in the 
 future. True, a beneficent and paternal republic has 
 suffered much at the hands of men ostensibly patriotic 
 but really actuated by an intense desire for valuable 
 land. It is also true that the complaisance of ignorant 
 
THE LAND CLAIMERS 217 
 
 executives and lax administrators allowed, for many 
 years, what is now termed a "plundering" of vast tracts 
 of timbered and arable lands. And the logical event of 
 this was that every man who took a homestead in the 
 dark and gloomy forest of the Siletz was instantly con- 
 sidered by the officials as purposing a raid on the treas- 
 ury, which raid was to be stopped at every effort and 
 expense for proof and prevention of crime. Who would 
 bury himself in that forbidding wilderness for a paltry 
 hundred and sixty acres? the Government demanded 
 acidly. No one, except a man who hopes to steal the 
 timber under the law, sell it to a big corporation and 
 leave the denuded land to the skunks and wood-rats, ran 
 the answer. 
 
 Thus, for many years, the Siletz lay not only under 
 nature's ban of chill and gloom and solitude, but under 
 a governmental one of suspicion, incessant inspection, 
 oversight, detection and incrimination. The easy law 
 that allows a man to claim a quarter section of land 
 after living a few months on it, and get title on payment 
 of a few dollars, tempted not only the honest and indus- 
 trious pioneer, but the sluggard, the cheat and the morally 
 loose. How easy to file on land overgrown with ten 
 thousand dollars' worth of timber, build a rude cabin on 
 it, clear a few rods of land, live on it a season and then 
 get title for a couple of hundred dollars, dispose of the 
 
218 THELANDCLAIMERS 
 
 patent to a lumber company for a few thousands and 
 leave the Siletz for ever. 
 
 But as years went on, the regulations of the Govern- 
 ment grew stricter in the letter, if laxer in spirit. The 
 jealous scrutiny of men eager to get land made the pos- 
 sessors live in real truth in their little cabins or else be 
 contested and ousted. The department at Washington 
 grew wary of granting patents until after long periods of 
 investigation had elapsed. And the homesteader, prob- 
 ably honest in intention, found himself suddenly forced 
 into dishonesty and subterfuge. No man could make a 
 living in the heart of the forest. The most hardworking 
 pioneer found that to keep his land and support his 
 family at the same time he must go elsewhere a portion 
 of the year and earn money wherewith to buy flour and 
 bacon, or else he must deceive the Government. 
 
 Consequently, as the Siletz reservation was gradually 
 settled, as the trails were built and the little clearings 
 made and the small cabins erected, there grew up a 
 custom of leaving these temporary homes with the beds 
 made and the tables set, though the owner's absence was 
 to be permanent. In this way the Government inspector 
 was supposed to be deceived into believing that the occu- 
 pants (who were supposed by law to be still resident) 
 had merely left for the day, or on a week's visit to New- 
 port or Toledo. As homesteaders proved up and left. 
 
THE LAND CLAIMERS 219 
 
 the forest became dotted — could one have enjoyed a 
 bird's-eye view — with cabins apparently still inhabited 
 and gardens still cultivated, though the owners had long 
 been gone, never to return. 
 
 The cabin into which Sally had let herself was one of 
 these. Years before the homesteader had packed out his 
 few valuables, leaving everything else, even to the clock 
 on the rough shelf and the griddle on the nail. Within 
 a week after he had gone, the brush crept over the narrow 
 trail, and filled up the spring, and skunks chattered 
 under the table. A few months, and the former home- 
 steader had been forgotten in the Siletz; none knew 
 whither that trail went after its turning off from the 
 main one, and the sole knowledge of the place rested in 
 the records of the Land Office and with Sally McCarthy. 
 She had found the trail one day, followed it, and arrived 
 in the little clearing. Knowing all the gossip of the 
 reservation, she knew that besides herself no one thought 
 longer of this lonely cabin. So she entered it, brushed 
 the rust from the stove, washed up the dishes and took 
 possession of it. Never having had dolls, this became 
 her welcome, if long-delayed toy. To it she fled when 
 old McCarthy grew sullen, and when the squalor of his 
 cabin disgusted her. Lonely by habit and repressed in 
 spirit, here she gave her imagination free rein and lived 
 pleasant hours in this retreat, furbishing the house, 
 
220 THELANDCLAIMERS 
 
 digging in the garden, cleaning out the spring, and pre- 
 tending that it was her home. 
 
 The afternoon when she had rescued Hal from the 
 waters of the big pool she had been here and was on her 
 way to her father's cabin. It was Sally that Hal had 
 caught a glimpse of from the shoulder of the hill through 
 the vista that had opened, only to be lost. Today she 
 entered the little cabin with a feeling of relief. The 
 events of the past week had worried her. She had grown 
 to hold Spencer in warm, girhsh affection. His helpless- 
 ness had first appealed to her. Then she had appreciated 
 his pluck and doglike tenacity of purpose. When Flos- 
 setta had first been mentioned, her resentment had been 
 hot. But gradually she had come to a consciousness of 
 Spencer's quiet regard for herself. Towards Hal she 
 had borne equal resentment, but his youth and ambition 
 were slowly gaining on her, and she liked him better and 
 better. Now all her reserves had been swept away by 
 the view of Flossetta's misery and self-sacrifice. Woman- 
 like, she appraised this at its full value, and it gave value 
 to all for whom it had been undergone. Now she must 
 think and plan. It made it no easier that she, too, must 
 travel the road of self-denial. For when Hal knew that 
 "Miss Spencer" was his mother, and that Sally had 
 been a party to a plot to bring him to a realization of 
 his duty, he would hate Sally, even though he reluctantly 
 
THE LAND CLAIMERS 221 
 
 took up the oflfices of a dutiful son. And Spencer, the 
 only one who regarded her warmly, was in love with 
 Flossetta. If all went well she, youngest and most starved 
 for life of them all, would be left alone. 
 
 It was no shame to her that in this unselfish planning 
 she reserved for herself one little thing: Hal had bitterly 
 injured her by his ill-concealed contempt for her breed- 
 ing and by his careless remarks about the motives of all 
 who lived in the Siletz. So long as she lived she would 
 never forget this. She had been lonely, rebellious and 
 wretched. But she had never before been told she was 
 inferior to other women in manners and knowledge. So, 
 when Flossetta Marini was revealed to her son, his shame 
 and mortification would avenge Sally. The thought 
 grew bitter, instead of sweet. But even when she had 
 become convinced by long meditation that she did not 
 desire such a revenge, her maidenly spirit demanded it as 
 a right. 
 
 How should she bring about this disclosure? She 
 shrank from merely telling Hal the truth. It must be 
 borne in upon him by facts. She turned over a dozen 
 plans, rejecting them all as too cruel or unlikely to be 
 effective. He would naturally believe nothing except 
 absolute, overwhelming proof. No help could be ex- 
 pected from his mother — more likely denial, recrimina- 
 tion and tender falsehoods. Spencer would do nothing 
 
THE LAND CLAIMERS 
 
 actively, however much he might wish to make Flossetta 
 happy. 
 
 She sat on the edge of the home-made chair, staring 
 out the door, and thought it over and over. Finally she 
 rose, glanced round the pleasant, bare room to see if 
 everything was in its place, and went out, locking the 
 door after her. She had the foundation of her plan. 
 She must see Flossetta and find out whether she had 
 the one thing lacking to make it complete. 
 
CHAPTER XVI 
 
 THE week passed slowly for all of them. The ex- 
 pected break in the weather did not come. The 
 wind drew into the northeast, and continued frost crusted 
 the trails deeper each night and made travel almost im- 
 possible. Every evening the stars burned in a sky of 
 steel, and the motionless timber seemed to give off a 
 noiseless breath of rime and mortal cold. ^ Spencer, 
 coughing furiously, appeared to shrivel day by day and 
 kept the fire. Once in a while he was impelled by rest- 
 lessness to venture out to look at the stainless heavens 
 and curse. Hal stamped round, smoked inordinately 
 and growled about the prospects of winning the contest. 
 Sally and her guest were not to be seen. They had not 
 come over to Spencer's as they had promised to do, and 
 Hal had learned from a short visit that "Miss Spencer" 
 was not well. Sally asserted that when she felt better 
 they would come, and invited Hal to tell Spencer that 
 they were both welcome at the McCarthy's. With this, 
 communication had ceased for several days. 
 
 During this time Sally had not been idle. Her quick 
 eyes had soon seen that her guest was very ill. Excite- 
 
224 THE LAND CLAIMERS 
 
 ment and vain hope had been the stimulus which had 
 given Flossetta illusory strength. The cruel fact that 
 her son could never realize who she was and that she 
 must keep her secret till she died had had its effect. An- 
 other cause of her swift decline in health was undoubtedly 
 the silent and cold atmosphere of the great forest, at once 
 strange and dreadful to one accustomed to light and 
 movement and the crowd. 
 
 No one but Sally could know the horror the dead days 
 had for the feeble actress. And every night she sat by 
 the fire to listen hour after hour to the poor woman's 
 labored breathing. The days and nights passed like a 
 terrible dream to Flossetta; for Sally they were real, 
 tangible, her first knowledge of what life meant in the 
 world outside. As she bent over the murmuring woman 
 at midnight and tried to soothe her, she saw clearly the 
 long series of events that had led to this; and when she 
 glanced across the dusky cabin at midday and saw the 
 wasted hands fumbling and picking and reaching as if to 
 find and seize sunshine that never penetrated below the 
 lofty crest of the timber, she knew in her own heart that 
 such periods came into every woman's life, and that her 
 mother, as well as Flossetta Marini, as well as all other 
 , women, had suffered thus — that she was some time to 
 endure and cry and suffer this way herself. 
 
 Her thoughts found utterance one afternoon when 
 
THE LAND CLAIMERS 225 
 
 she said abruptly, " Why did n't you marry Mr. Spencer, 
 MissFlossetta?" 
 
 A brief gleam of contentment flashed across the elder 
 woman's face. "He was crazy over me," she replied. 
 "But I was crazy over Harry and I married him. Poor 
 Sim!" 
 
 Sally was silent for a few moments. Then she said 
 again, "I believe he's still in love with you!" 
 
 Flosetta stared out the window. A tremulous sigh 
 escaped from her lips, and when Sally glanced over she 
 saw that she was crying softly. 
 
 "I suppose he is," Flossetta responded gently. "He 
 would n't have done as much for me if he had n't been. 
 But I could n't marry him now, because Hal — Hal 
 does n't approve of him any more than he would of me 
 now." 
 
 An unmistakable sniff was the sole answer to this. 
 But presently Sally remarked: "It strikes me that I 
 would n't give up all my happiness, if I were you. And 
 if you don't tell Hal who you are, I don't see why you 
 should n't marry Mr. Spencer. He'd be awfully good to 
 you." 
 
 Flossetta was stirred into animation. " What an idea ! " 
 she exclaimed. "I've fooled Hal as much as I'm going 
 to. And I 'm not going to sacrifice him any more. Even 
 if he did n't know I was his mother, it would n't be right. 
 
226 THE LAND CLAIMERS 
 
 And I want Hal to be happy. He's got a good education 
 and fine manners, just like his father. I would n't put a 
 thing in his way." 
 
 "I don't see what more you could do," Sally insisted. 
 
 Flossetta smiled wearily. " Oh, there 's one more thing," 
 she whispered and closed her eyes. A shudder ran through 
 her. 
 
 Another time Sally asked whether she had n't a picture 
 of herself taken when she was acting. Flossetta went to 
 her suit-case and silently fetched one. It was apparently 
 taken but a short time before and displayed Miss Marini 
 in the character of "Juanita, the Mexican Diva," the 
 national part of this title being emphasized by a very 
 gorgeous broad hat and an immense blanket of gauze. 
 Beneath the mysteries of paint and powder were to be 
 discerned the weak and aging features of a once pretty 
 woman. 
 
 "I had that taken just before I started out this last 
 time," Flossetta explained. " I did n't want it, but of 
 course one has to have 'em for the bills and the papers. 
 I saved that one for some reason or other. I guess we'd 
 better burn it. It looks — it looks too much like me." 
 
 For the first time in her life Sally lied, bluntly and 
 without shame. "Nobody on earth would know it was 
 you. You look no more than twenty and as fresh as a 
 berry. Let me have it, please. I'd so like to have it." 
 
THE LAND CLAIMERS 227 
 
 "All right," was the answer. "But keep it away from 
 Hal. I might have trouble in explaining to him how I got 
 it and what character his mother was playing." 
 
 Sally made no reply, but thrust the photograph into a 
 little bag that hung by her bedside. When her guest was 
 not looking, she took it out again and went up the trail, 
 avowedly to look for "gum wood for kindling." Once 
 hidden from any one in the cabin, she put the picture 
 against the rough bark of a little spruce and sat down 
 before it to study it. 
 
 She seemed satisfied at last, took the picture down and 
 went on her way to her secluded cabin in the hidden clear- 
 ing. She stayed here just long enough to pin the photo- 
 graph to the wall and get a belated and yellowed head of 
 cabbage from the garden. On her return she raUied "Miss 
 Spencer" and succeeded in cheering that poor lady into 
 a state of smiles and gossip about the joyous past. 
 
 Early the next morning, the sixth day since there had 
 been any word from Spencer or Hal, she told Flossetta 
 that she was going to see them. 
 
 "rU bet theyVe been busy over HaFs claim," she 
 said in excuse. "And they can't cook worth a cent. I 
 often go over and cook up some bread and stuff for 
 them, and I'll do it this morning and tell them we're 
 mad at them for not being neighborly." 
 
 She found Hal in the clearing, gloomily digging at a 
 
228 THELANDCLAIMERS 
 
 huge root. He brightened up when he saw her and said 
 that Spencer was in the house. "This cold weather 
 knocks him up," he announced. 
 
 "And I suppose you think we can get in all the wood 
 we need ourselves," Sally repUed, with asperity. "You're 
 so busy keeping warm yourselves that you think we don't 
 need anybody to help us." She passed on, leaving him 
 red and strangely angry at himself and her. 
 
 Spencer received her cheerfully, though his pale and 
 gaunt face showed that he had been miserable. 
 
 "How's everybody?" he demanded. 
 
 "Mad," was the curt reply. 
 
 "Well, that's bad," he said, repressing a cough. "I've 
 been thinkin'." 
 
 "So'vewe." 
 
 " 'Nd I ain't got anywhere yet," he continued, anxious 
 to put himself right. " I wanted to be all loaded for bear 
 when I saw you again. 'Nd I just set here and thought 
 and did n't get anywhere." 
 
 She brushed this aside and rolled up her sleeves. "If 
 you'd have cooked more and thought less you'd be better 
 off. Now you shut up and think some more, if it does you 
 good." She dived into the flour sack. 
 
 Spencer watched her for a long time in silence. She 
 gave no sign that she observed his scrutiny, but went 
 about mixing and stirring and sifting and beating and 
 
THE LAND CLAIMERS 
 
 baking as though she were alone. Finally he ventured 
 to remark, "It'll bust Hal all up, if he finds it out." 
 
 "Huh!" 
 
 " I Ve been on the point of tellin' him a dozen times and 
 havin' it over. But he's proud, just like his father, and 
 he would n't understand." He paused and coughed. "I 
 thought I'd tell him when this claim business is settled." 
 
 Sally glanced over curiously. "I'd like to know how 
 you expect to get that claim from Lim. I thought you 
 and Hal had some good scheme. But you seem to think 
 the law '11 give you everything you want. Why, Lim's 
 thick and thick with those people up in Portland. You 
 don't stand any show at all." 
 
 " I guess Lim White '11 be glad to hand it over," Spencer 
 retorted, in so sharp a tone that Sally stared. 
 
 "But if he don't?" she ventured. 
 
 Spencer's face settled into cruel lines. His jaw seemed 
 to harden, and his eyes to sink back into his head. She 
 had never seen such an expression on his face, and it 
 frightened her. Spencer stared at her a moment and then 
 his features relaxed. 
 
 "Don't you worry, Sally," he said hoarsely. "I ain't 
 no quitter." 
 
 "My sakes!" she ejaculated. "Did I say you were? 
 You looked as though you were going to bite my head 
 off." 
 
230 THE LAND CLAIMERS 
 
 He got to his feet and walked to the door. "I ain't 
 worryin' over Lim," he remarked. "It's Flossetta Fm 
 thinkin' about." 
 
 Sally shoved the last pan of biscuits into the little oven 
 and shut the door. "I tell ye what I'll do," she said un- 
 emotionally. "You tend to Lim and I'll tend to Mrs. 
 Marini. I guess you got your hands full already. Leave 
 me to fix the rest." 
 
 A sudden hope beamed in Spencer's face. "Say," he 
 said bluntly. "Was I wrong?" 
 
 "Wrong about what?" 
 
 "About Miss Fletcher? " 
 
 In spite of herself, Sally felt the hot blushes flooding 
 her cheeks. But she faced him. "What about Miss 
 Fletcher? " she demanded. 
 
 "Well, I got it into my noddle that Hal was stuck on 
 her. She 's sort of ladyish and proper and — and spoony. 
 She just took after him like a rabbit after a cabbage leaf 
 as soon as she saw him. 'Nd I heard him say several 
 things 'bout her that made me mad. But if you're 
 runnin' it, why — " 
 
 "I don't know anything about Miss Fletcher," Sally 
 answered coldly. "And if she wants him I'm sure I 
 don't." 
 
 Spencer seemed appalled. "Look here, I did n't say 
 she — he wanted her. I just thought — " 
 
THE LAND CLAIMERS 231 
 
 "You think too much," was the tart answer. "Sup- 
 pose you spend next week choppin' wood instead of 
 thinkin*, and you'll be nearer home/* 
 
 "But Hal — *' 
 
 "But Hal's too good for me and too good for his 
 mother and too good for you," she stormed. "I'm 
 sick of him!" She snatched up her cap and turned to 
 confront Hal, standing in the doorway. His face was 
 white. With sudden dignity she walked past him into 
 the clearing and down the trail. 
 
 "She seems " — Hal began awkwardly. 
 
 All the older man's pent-up misery and anger and 
 perplexity broke out. He cursed the younger man with 
 a violence and intensity that first amazed, then enraged 
 and finally appalled its victim. Finding it useless to stem 
 the torrent, he walked out of the door with as much grace 
 as he could, looking over his shoulder to say in a trembling 
 voice, "You need n't expect me back." 
 
 Spencer shook his fist at him. 
 
 For the first time in his life, Hal Marini felt thoroughly 
 and satisfactorily abused. There was no question of his 
 own conduct in the matter. He had done more than could 
 be expected of him, more for a vulgar old man than any 
 amount of money could repay. Sally, attractive in many 
 ways, was, after all, ignorant and hardly the lady. In the 
 whole Siletz forest there was but one member of his own 
 
 I 
 
232 THE LAND CLAIMERS 
 
 class in society. Spencer's curses stung, unjust as they 
 were. Deeper yet was the hurt inflicted by those words 
 of Sally's he had overheard. He could, of course, never 
 return to Spencer's cabin. To go to the McCarthy's was 
 still more impossible. But there was one refuge, he 
 thought, and he would go to Miss Fletcher. She would 
 understand without his telling her all the impossibilities 
 of these people. Further, she might advise him as to 
 what he had better do. Anyway, her sympathy would be 
 very grateful to his wounded spirit. 
 
 He found Miss Fletcher occupied in her garden in all 
 the propriety of gloves and a veil. She welcomed him and 
 informed him immediately that her companion being 
 away again it was impossible (she blushed) to ask him 
 into the house. But as luncheon was over and the after- 
 noon gave some promise of being less cold than usual, 
 why not walk? He was happy to do so, though luncheon- 
 less. But he resented a little the absence of the companion 
 and the fact that he was presupposed to have had his 
 midday meal. It was eminently proper; but he was 
 hungry. 
 
 '■ When it came to deciding on the object of their walk, 
 Miss Fletcher was for visiting the McCarthy's " and that 
 bewitching *Miss Spencer,' who is really such a character 
 as one reads about." Hal declined this and thought that 
 a little exploring would do no harm. 
 
THE LAND CLAIMERS 233 
 
 "There are lots of old trails round here that go to 
 houses and such," he suggested. 
 
 Walking on the frosted moss and iced puddles proved 
 rather tiresome, and it was Miss Fletcher who remarked 
 that she thought it would be much better to find some 
 place to rest a while. Hal was ready himself, but at this 
 moment he saw a vague trail running off round the staff 
 of a tall spruce. 
 
 "I say, there's a path here,*' he announced. "And 
 it looks as though somebody had been on it not long 
 ago." 
 
 Miss Fletcher inspected it with languid interest and 
 decided after some debate that it might be well to see 
 where it went. Clasping Hal's hand against a slip on the 
 roots, she ventured round the big spruce and down the 
 trail. 
 
 It proved to be disappointing in the highest degree. 
 It was very vague at best, and it dipped under huge wind- 
 falls and over equally huge mounds that had been tree- 
 trunks but had rotted away; down beneath dark bushes, 
 where it lost itself apparently beyond recovery, only to 
 reappear crossing a little gulch on another tree-trunk, or 
 skirting an immense stump by means of sundry steps cut 
 with an ax in the knobby roots. Within a quarter of a 
 mile they had no notion how far they had come or how 
 to get out. But the trail was growing plainer, and they 
 
234 THE LAND CLAIMERS 
 
 kept on. Very soon it was not only plain but broad, and 
 a moment later it delivered them into a very small clear- 
 ing, in the middle of which stood a very small log cabin, 
 with a miniatm*e garden beside it. From the stove-pipe 
 in the roof a whiff of smoke appeared, and Hal stated that 
 the house was inhabited. 
 
 "Who in the world lives here?" Miss Fletcher de- 
 manded. "I never heard of anybody near here." 
 
 "Nor I," Hal responded, "except once. I was going 
 along the main trail and caught sight of some house down 
 in the canyon. This must be the one." 
 
 "Well," Miss Fletcher said, "let's go and see who it is. 
 If people live here, they have some better way of getting 
 in and out than that horrid trail. I suppose they'll be 
 civil?" 
 
 "Oh, yes," he assured her. "The settlers aren't so 
 bad as you think." 
 
 They walked up the path, past the sandy spring, and 
 stamped upon the infinitesimal porch. Hal knocked 
 briskly on the door. It was opened by Sally McCarthy. 
 
 An awkward silence followed her cool " Come in." Miss 
 Fletcher seemed oddly put out, and Hal struggled to 
 think of some excuse to refuse. But as Sally repeated her 
 invitation and Miss Fletcher could not frame a sentence 
 of anything but murmurs, they quickly found themselves 
 ushered into the small, cheerful room and provided with 
 
THE LAND CLAIMERS 235 
 
 seats. Then their hostess quietly seated herself opposite 
 and politely waited for them to speak. 
 
 "We were just walking around," Miss Fletcher said, 
 recovering herself. "We did n't know there was anybody 
 here." 
 
 "Tm sorry you were disappointed," was the reply. 
 "Most of the cabins are without anybody living in 
 them." 
 
 Miss Fletcher suddenly flushed and clasped her gloved 
 hands in her lap. " It was n't till Mr. Marini saw the 
 smoke coming out from the chimney that we ventiu-ed to 
 come as far as the door," she said conventionally. "But 
 when he said somebody lived here, I thought we might 
 find out how to get back home." 
 
 "Yes, we're lost," Hal put in. "Found a trail up on 
 the hill and thought we'd see where it went." 
 
 Sally nodded. "You'll find plenty of cabins all around. 
 But you ought to be careful. If I had n't been here and 
 you are lost, you would have had to stay here till some- 
 body came, and that might have taken weeks!" 
 
 This seemed too much for Miss Fletcher, who miu*- 
 mured something about "Impossible," and refused to even 
 glance at her escort, giving the plain impression that she 
 had been misled into walking without her companion 
 and devoutly wished that that excellent chaperone were 
 present. Sally observed this, but she was bitterly hurt, 
 
236 THE LAND CLAIMERS 
 
 and her cold, calm gaze rested on her guest with an 
 ingenuous look of inquiry that made Miss Fletcher 
 more miserable than ever. Then she turned to Hal, 
 and he muttered something about "didn't know you 
 lived here." 
 
 "Very few do," Sally responded quietly. "But what 
 do you think of it?" 
 
 Miss Fletcher rose from her seat and walked round the 
 room, intently viewing the few pictures on the wall, with 
 an air of having to do the polite thing. She even exclaimed 
 prettily over a shelf made of a huge conch fungus. Then 
 she looked over the meagre furniture, the apparent prepa- 
 rations for supper and all the things that seemed to speak 
 of constant occupancy and life. She gave every evidence 
 of having something to say, but not being ready to say it. 
 Hal, tipping his chair back on two legs, tried to assume 
 an air of enjoyment. 
 
 Sally turned to him and inquired whether he had taken 
 the north trail or the south trail in. 
 
 "I'm sure I don't know," he said wretchedly. "I just 
 saw a trail and thought we'd see where it went. I had 
 no idea — no notion — " 
 
 "Will your husband be back to-night?" said Miss 
 Fletcher, gazing with great earnestness at a drawing 
 clipped from a magazine. 
 
 "No," was the brief answer. 
 
THE LAND CLAIMERS 237 
 
 Miss Fletcher was more at her ease now that she had 
 got into words what she had intended to say all along. 
 " I did n't know you were married, Mrs. — Mrs. — " 
 
 "I'm not," Sally answered, with blazing cheeks. 
 
 "Oh!" Miss Fletcher murmured, shocked. Hal rose 
 to his feet and went to the window. 
 
 Nobody cared to break the silence that followed. Miss 
 Fletcher felt that she had said all that was necessary, and 
 she was, to do her justice, horribly ashamed of herself. 
 Hal was speechless with wrath at Miss Fletcher, anger and 
 contempt for himself and pity for Sally. Sally, suddenly 
 wounded by weapons whose edge she had never sus- 
 pected, was trying to keep back her tears of agonizing 
 maidenly shame and outraged modesty. How could she 
 explain to this well-dressed, cold-voiced woman that this 
 was her holy of holies, never entered before by any one 
 but herself, her refuge in trouble, her little shrine of girlish 
 play and dreams? It burst over her that she must set her- 
 self right, at all cost, at the great price of hating this cabin 
 and all its associations forever. With swift intuition she 
 turned to Hal. Her sole hope of being understood lay 
 with him, not with the woman. She began bravely: 
 "This place never had an owner since the settler went 
 away, and I found it and was — " 
 
 Miss Fletcher suddenly broke in, "Why here's a 
 picture of Mr. Spencer's sister, is n't it? She's an actress? 
 
238 THE LAND CLAIMERS 
 
 Well, how odd! Look here, Mr. Marini, just look at this 
 funny picture of that odd sister of Mr. Spencer's." 
 
 "No! don't!" Sally cried. 
 
 He did n't understand her anxiety and was glad of 
 any opportunity to get away from her pleading eyes. He 
 walked over and stood beside Miss Fletcher. She pointed 
 to the photograph with a gloved finger. "She's some 
 sort of a variety person, I take it," she said carelessly. 
 "And what a name she has — Flossetta! Really, Mr. 
 Marini, you have some of the very oddest characters 
 almost at your doors in this Siletz!" 
 
 Hal did not answer. He was staring at the gaudy 
 picture, slowly comprehending the false smile, the artificial 
 pose and the meaning of it. He tried to fix it in his mind 
 that he would have known his mother had he seen her. 
 It was impossible that he should n't. And Miss Spencer 
 was not his mother, and this woman said she recognized 
 this as a picture of Miss Spencer. Yet in flowing script 
 across one corner ran the words "Flossetta Marini, 1899." 
 He stared. In the middle of the room, poised as if for 
 flight, Sally watched him breathlessly. True, she had 
 intended him to see this picture. But under different 
 circumstances, with no one present to witness his struggle 
 between duty and honor and ambition and hope and 
 future success. Now he saw it while two women looked 
 on, one of them a representative of the class which he 
 
THE LAND CLAIMERS 239 
 
 must abandon, he would think, if he acknowledged Flos- 
 setta as his mother; the other just cruelly wounded and 
 wronged by an infamous suggestion. What would he do? 
 
 Miss Fletcher, knowing nothing of this, continued her 
 stroll of inspection. When she had concluded it, Hal 
 still stood staring at the photograph, his face tense and 
 white. 
 
 "You seem quite struck with it," she remarked. 
 "Miss Spencer looks really quite a girl, doesn*t she? 
 But I understand these women age very fast owing to 
 the life they lead. Probably that accounts for it." 
 
 Sally suddenly turned on her guest. But no words 
 would come, and she went to the doorway, where she 
 stood gazing through tear-dimmed eyes into the barren 
 future. She knew, now, that all her hopes had been in 
 vain. There was but one more thing she could do for 
 the woman dying back there in her father's cabin. She 
 could conceal from her the fact that her son knew and 
 refused to admit their relationship. She clenched her 
 hands before her and struggled against a sob. 
 
 Hal saw and heard nothing except the visions of his 
 own mind and the voice of his own soul. He knew now. 
 It was all explained, Spencer's taking him and paying 
 him wages, the arrival of "Miss Spencer," the hot words 
 he had overheard that morning from Sally, his employer's 
 flooding, stinging curses. It was his mother. The petty 
 
240 THE LAND CLAIMERS 
 
 history of his life in school and in college suddenly un- 
 rolled itself before him and assured him that this worn 
 and weary woman was really his mother. The picture 
 suddenly grew vivid before him again, with its legend, 
 "JuANiTA, THE MEXICAN DiVA." There suddenly 
 flitted round the glaring photograph a scene of his boy- 
 hood, when he had been allowed to accompany his mother 
 to the theater one night and watch her adorn herself in 
 the wonderful dressing-room and disappear through the 
 huge wings, not to reappear for a long time and then ac- 
 companied by a vast clapping of hands while the orchestra 
 played and the manager stood waiting to wave her back 
 on the stage to smile and bow. He had seen a woman 
 sitting in the shadow of the wall, dressed like this, quite 
 alone and ignored by everybody. His mother had told 
 him it was a "variety girl" waiting for her specialty, 
 and he had known from her tone and the manner of the 
 girl that to be a variety girl was to be admitted to a good 
 theater only under sufferance, and when some special 
 part of the play was unfitted for a regular member of the 
 company. He had never forgotten it. 
 
 And now — the woman sitting in the shadow of the 
 stage wall, amid all the hurry and bustle and laughter 
 and applause alone, was his mother. His throat seemed 
 to be in the grasp of a profound and incredible sorrow. 
 He turned away and walked blindly to the window. 
 
THE LAND CLAIMERS 241 
 
 Ten minutes later he left the window and looked into 
 the room, now shadowed by the coming dusk. Miss 
 Fletcher was sitting in a chair, trying to understand 
 what had happened. In the long, cold silence she knew 
 that something had suddenly left her quite alone be- 
 tween these two incomprehensible people. She suspected 
 angrily that her insinuations against Sally accounted for 
 that young woman's silence and refusal to meet her 
 glance. But what could have suddenly possessed her 
 escort, she failed to see. 
 
 Her impatience at this position was growing acute, 
 and when Hal turned round she rose quickly. 
 
 "We must certainly be getting home," she said 
 sharply. 
 
 "Yes, getting home,'' he repeated slowly. 
 
 Sally turned swiftly at the tone. He met her eyes 
 quietly. Then, with a little laugh, he went over and 
 took down the photograph. "I think I'll keep this," he 
 said slowly. 
 
 Miss Fletcher glanced at him in surprise. "Miss 
 McCarthy may not thank you for carrying off her valued 
 portraits." 
 
 He drew himself up. "I owe Miss McCarthy a good 
 deal for keeping it for me," he replied. "It's the picture 
 of my mother, you see." 
 
 "Your mother ! " ejaculated Miss Fletcher, aghast. 
 
242 THE LAND CLAIMERS 
 
 "Yes," he answered simply. "And now let*s go home. 
 Come on, Sally!'' 
 
 She said nothing, but he saw that she was trying hard 
 to keep from crying, and when she failed miserably to 
 find the key in the lock, he locked the door himself and 
 put the key in his pocket. Miss Fletcher refused to have 
 anything more to say. But as they crossed the clearing 
 she flushed a deeper and deeper red until Sally observed 
 it, took pity on her and insisted on Hal's going ahead. 
 When they reached the main trail. Miss Fletcher 
 stated curtly that she needed no escort home and 
 left them. 
 
 Hal walked along in front of his companion for a few 
 rods and then turned back to say, "Were you going to 
 show me that picture? " 
 
 "Not when anybody was around," she said quickly. 
 "All by yourself!" 
 
 "Will you tell me one more thing?" 
 
 She nodded. 
 
 "Why did n't anybody dare tell me before? Why did 
 mother come this way — without letting me know?" 
 
 "She wanted you — she was afraid — she said you 
 would n't understand," she stammered. 
 
 His face went white again. His pain was so evident 
 that Sally's heart went out in a rush of pity. "I told her 
 you'd understand!" she cried. 
 
THE LAND CLAIMERS 
 
 He gazed at her, and Sally's eyes fell. "Vm glad," he 
 said huskily. "Poor mother!" 
 
 An hour later, Spencer stamped down into the McCar- 
 thy clearing and found Sally kneeling by the spring, care- 
 less of the chill. She raised wet eyes to his, and he saw 
 that she had been crying. "Pm goin' to lick that cub 
 within an inch of his d — d life," he announced hotly. 
 "I'd oughta done it before. He — " 
 
 Sally rose, sobbing, and threw herself into his arms. 
 "I'll beat him to death!" Spencer roared, patting her 
 head. "He ain't wuth a tear of any woman! Where is 
 he? I'll fix him!" 
 
 Sally drew herself away, and her sobs turned to soft 
 laughter. "He's in with his mother," she said. 
 
 "With his mother!" Spencer ejaculated. 
 
 At that moment a fresh voice sounded through the 
 clearing and echoed back from the timber. "Come in 
 here, you chump! Come in here till I lick you! I prom- 
 ised mother I would!" 
 
 Spencer gaped, caught Sally's look of happiness and 
 then grinned. "I ain't never been licked before, but I 
 guess it's comin' to me now!" He rolled a cigarette be- 
 tween his trembling fingers and, thus prepared with it 
 acock between his lips, he entered the cabin with a debo- 
 nair and careless walk, as one going to a festival. 
 
CHAPTER XVII 
 
 "T'M puttin* on weight like a pullet under a coop," 
 
 A Spencer announced a couple of weeks later to Sally. 
 "All along of your cookin*." 
 
 "My sakes!" she answered, making a great din with 
 the wash-pan. "One'd think you never had a thought 
 except eating." 
 
 He tipped his chair back and fixed his eyes on the 
 ceiling. "I am interested in grub," he admitted. "'Nd 
 I'm puttin* on weight fine. I gotta make ten pounds 
 more." 
 
 At this instant the door opened, and Flossetta en- 
 tered, her arms ladened with ferns. Hal followed her, 
 clutching at a huge piece of wet moss. "Look at the 
 maiden's-hair!" Flossetta cried. 
 
 Spencer looked at it with an air of connoisseurship. 
 "That's just fine," he agreed. "But there are lots bigger 
 ferns than those. Miss Flossetta." 
 
 She sniffed, and Hal, laying the chunk of moss down, 
 stated that had it not been for the inconvenience, he be- 
 lieved his mother would have insisted on bringing in two 
 or three of the largest-sized fir-trees. 
 
THE LAND CLAIMERS 245 
 
 "Of course, I would," she responded cheerfully. "I 
 just love these woods. Don't you, Sally?" 
 
 "You'll catch your death of cold if you don't put 
 them down right away," said that young woman dicta- 
 torially. "My sakes! even a frog would get chilled with 
 all those wet ferns in his arms." 
 
 "Frogs don't have arms," Hal aflBrmed. 
 
 "Nor men heads," was the tart answer. "You and 
 your mother are a pair of children, that's what you are." 
 
 Flossetta put down the ferns and went over and kissed 
 her hostess, much to Spencer's silent delight. She then 
 flung her cap into one corner of the room, smiled at Hal 
 and proceeded to tuck up the sleeves of the blue flannel 
 shirt she wore preparatory to helping Sally finish the 
 dish-washing. The wan and faded woman who had 
 arrived at the McCarthy cabin but a few days before 
 had suddenly grown into a matronly and exceedingly 
 happy-looking woman whose age might, to a superficial 
 observer, have been anywhere between thirty and thirty- 
 five. Now and then she paused in her household tasks to 
 stop and gaze at her tall son with a look which made 
 Sally clatter the dishes and generally create a strong 
 diversion — all to Spencer's intense gratification. 
 
 Hal himself seemed to have heavier cares than any of 
 the rest. His affectionate glance would rest on his mother, 
 and then he would stare into space as though to read 
 
 t 
 
246 THE LAND CLAIMERS 
 
 there an assurance that he was equal to all his tasks. For 
 the final arrangements had been made for his going to 
 Portland to contest Lim White's claim, and both Flos- 
 setta and Sally showed their anxiety over the outcome in 
 many womanly ways. Of the three the only unconcerned 
 one, apparently, was Spencer, who refused absolutely 
 to give any grounds for his hopefulness or the brief as- 
 surances he uttered now and then that "Lim'll hunt his 
 hole/' 
 
 It is likely that Sally had an inkling of his plans, for 
 she watched his voracious appetite and incessant labor 
 with the ax and occasionally warned him against over- 
 doing it. At these times Spencer would glance at her 
 with sudden smiles and shake his head. "I gotta get 
 the weight," he would explain. 
 
 During this time McCarthy paid a visit to his daughter, 
 ostensibly to get his felling wedges, but in reality to warn 
 her crossly that she was "spoiling everything by letting 
 that galoot Hal hang round." His warning was received 
 in silence; he left, grumbling in his beard and resolved 
 that when White's final proof had been accepted and 
 Marini's contest dismissed, there would be a hard reck- 
 oning between him and these tenderfeet. Before he de- 
 parted, he announced that the following Sunday night 
 he and White might be expected to stop on their way to 
 Toledo and Portland. 
 
THE LAND CLAIMERS 247 
 
 As this raised a question that Sally was incapable of 
 solving alone, she took it to Spencer. "Father's going 
 to bring Lim White down Sunday," she told him; "and 
 of course father '11 expect him to stay, and then they'll 
 go on out in the morning. What '11 we do with Hal and 
 his mother?" 
 
 "They won't — " Spencer began and stopped. "I 
 mean, bring them over to my shack. I gotta be away 
 then, anyway, and Hal's gotta go to Portland Monday, 
 too. You and Miss Flossetta better just come and stay 
 here and be comfortable with nobody to bother you." 
 
 So it was agreed. 
 
 The next day the scout turned up, was introduced to 
 Mrs. Marini, as she now called herself, talked the con- 
 test over with Hal and promised to be on hand to go to 
 Portland. Before he left, he announced that Lim White 
 and McCarthy were very busy putting the last "im- 
 provements" in. "Yer dad is goin' to help Barnes fell 
 some of his trees before he goes out to witness for Lim," 
 he remarked. 
 
 "Where's Barnes's?" Spencer demanded, with a show 
 of indifference. 
 
 "About two miles from Lim's," was the reply. "I 
 heard Barnes talkin' about it, but McCarthy's to stop 
 at Lim's till Sunday morning. Lim's got his hands full 
 sticking little trees round for an orchard and he das n't 
 
248 THE LAND CLAIMERS 
 
 leave the place till Sunday morning anyhow. He's 
 scared Hal here '11 get on the place and build a cabin 
 if he does." 
 
 He left, and Spencer announced an hour later that he 
 would have to go to Newport Friday or Saturday. " Gotta 
 get some things," he explained. 
 
 "Why doesn't Hal go with you, then?" his mother 
 inquired. 
 
 "He can't," Spencer replied hastily. "He's gotta 
 meet the scout and his other witness at Toledo. Any- 
 way, I gotta make the trip quick, and Hal would n't want 
 to have two days on his hands with nothin' to do. He 
 better wait till Monday." 
 
 On Saturday morning Sally and Flossetta left the 
 McCarthy cabin and made the trip to Spencer's, both 
 men escorting them. To Hal's mother this was an ex- 
 perience never to be forgotten. The immense stillness of 
 the forest, broken only by the far-away grinding of some 
 frosted limb against another, or the sharp crackle of a 
 falling stub, exhilarated her. Now and then, as the trail 
 rounded the shoulder of a lofty ridge and she caught a 
 glimpse of a vast, fathomless green depth, she would 
 pause, glancing brightly at her son as though to make 
 him understand her peace and content and happiness in 
 this wilderness, where there was no sound of the riotous 
 and dreadful world. 
 
THE LAND CLAIMERS 249 
 
 Spencer tried to show animation and appreciation, too; 
 but as they progressed his face gradually assumed a stern 
 and uncompromising expression, on which he was gently 
 rallied, but without effect. When dinner was over in the 
 new place, he called Hal outside. 
 
 "I wanta tell ye somethin',*' he began awkwardly. 
 "As I understand this, you and your lawyer '11 be right 
 on hand and fight this thing to a finish. Now I just 
 wanta say this: never mind what anybody does or what 
 anybody says: you just go right ahead and fight to win. 
 See? No matter what Lim does, or what his lawyer 
 does, or anybody, you just hang on and say you want 
 that claim and want it quick ! See?" 
 
 "I guess I do," was the response. "But honestly I 
 don*t expect to get it. He's too big a man for me to buck 
 against. He's got too many friends." 
 
 "He's got one man that ain't a friend," was the savage 
 answer. "That's me. I ain't no quitter. 'Nd you get 
 the claim. See?" 
 
 Hal shook his head. "I don't see. But I'll hang on 
 and fight it out. Mother counts on my getting it." 
 
 "Now you're talkin' real loud and plain," Spencer 
 assented, his face relaxing. "You just say, 'My mother 
 counts on this.' You'll get it, you bet, while there's a 
 bat flyin' in hell." 
 
 As they went in, Hal glanced at the sky which was 
 
250 THE LAND CLAIMERS 
 
 gradually being overcast with a gray film. Sally looked 
 up and observed his glance. "It's going to storm," she 
 said quietly. 
 
 "Storm!" echoed Flossetta, from her chair by the 
 window. "Won't that be fine? Hal was telling me how 
 the trees were blown down and all the noise and uproar. 
 I'd like to see it." 
 
 Sally looked at Spencer thoughtfully. "Are all your 
 trees safe?" 
 
 "I guess so," was his reply. "Unless Lim's gone and 
 chopped at some of them. He might think that was one 
 way of gettin' rid of me." 
 
 Sally shuddered. "I don't like storms," she said 
 quietly. 
 
 Spencer went out and stared at the patch of sky visible 
 above the clearing and studied it carefully. The wind 
 was still in the east, and the gray film seemed to move 
 with a sluggishness that convinced him that there was as 
 yet no wind behind it. "About day after tomorrow 
 night would suit me to a T," he observed to himself, 
 shook his head doubtfully and re-entered the cabin to 
 stare at the wall for a long period till Sally inquired 
 whether he was in love. 
 
 "Sure," he remarked carelessly. "Always was." 
 
 Flosetta looked up and bent down again, while a faint 
 flush ruddied her cheek. Hal was busy over his pack- 
 
THE LAND CLAIMERS 251 
 
 sack and did not look up. But when he did, he was pleased 
 to see how his mother was improving in health. 
 
 "You're getting quite a color, mother," he remarked. 
 "Never saw so big an improvement." 
 
 "It's Sally's good cooking," his mother answered 
 quickly. 
 
 "It's always Sally," he responded, smiling at that 
 young lady. " First it was Spencer that swore by her and 
 now it's you." 
 
 "Hal's the only one that doesn't know what's good 
 for him," Spencer growled, and Sally found it necessary 
 to go out to the spring for fresh water, while Hal flushed 
 under his mother's curious and timid glance. 
 
 The next morning found the timber freed from frost 
 and dripping with mist. A weak breeze was blowing from 
 the southeast, and Spencer, after grave calculation, an- 
 nounced that he must be on his way to Newport. "It's 
 Saturday and I gotta be there Sunday. This rain '11 get 
 worse instead of better, and I better be moggin' along." 
 
 He put on his boots and ostentatiously demanded of 
 Flossetta and Sally what kind of candy they preferred 
 him to bring. All the while he was slinging on his pack 
 he kept up a fire of raillery, which only ceased when he 
 was out in the clearing, and Sally ran after him to thrust 
 another package into the sack on his back. " More grub," 
 she said curtly. 
 
252 THE LAND CLAIMERS 
 
 "Thanks. Fm feelin' pretty fit, Sally. Much obliged." 
 He stopped short and held out his hand. "Take care of 
 'em, Sally," he said, with sudden earnestness. " Good-by." 
 
 She fixed her gray eyes on him with a profound and 
 inscrutable look of encouragement, of approval, of knowl- 
 edge of his errand. He answered it with an almost im- 
 perceptible nod of his head. Then he turned away and 
 passed out of the clearing and into the creek bottom, while 
 Sally watched him, the mist gathering like a white and 
 shining veil on her bare head, till he vanished. "I wonder 
 how he'll do it? " she thought to herself. She remembered 
 the night she had driven Lim White snarling into the 
 timber, and her face lit with a swift, fierce hope. Then 
 she returned to the cabin. 
 
 Spencer traveled slowly along the trail till he came to 
 the tree that marked the spot where the Newport and 
 Otter Rock trails met. Here he sat down and rested his 
 pack on a log, which served as back to his rude seat. He 
 adjusted the straps over his shoulders to an easier fit, 
 wiped his forehead to see if he were sweating, found he 
 was not, appeared strongly gratified, rolled a cigarette, 
 threw it away without lighting it, and ate a biscuit in- 
 stead. Then he reckoned up his journey aloud: "Eight 
 miles to the beach and ten miles more to Depot Bay and 
 two miles more to Lim White's place. Twenty miles." 
 He looked at his watch and saw that it was ten o'clock. 
 
THE LAND CLAIMERS 253 
 
 Then he turned his back on the road to Newport and 
 began his long tramp to Depot Bay. 
 
 The mist thickened as he made his slow way over the 
 twisting and encumbered trail. It gathered in little mir- 
 rors on the salal leaves and festooned the ferns with 
 gauzy veils. It made the steep pitches slippery and 
 settled into the hollows like condensing steam. Down in 
 the canyon it hid all but the upper halves of the trees, 
 which emerged from it like reeds from a pool. Up on the 
 heights it mingled with the low clouds and drove off be- 
 fore the wind in great gray plumes. Spencer gradually 
 felt it in his lungs, and it made him cough, and coughing 
 made the perspiration start. But he kept doggedly on, 
 wiping his dripping face with his sleeve. 
 
 At noon he halted by a deserted shack that had once 
 represented the "home" of a homesteader. The shake 
 roof had decayed and fallen in, and tender grass sprouted 
 its pale green in the rotted straw in the bunk. He con- 
 templated this while he devoured more biscuit and drank 
 part of the bottle of coffee that Sally had supplied. In 
 the steadily falling mist and the dark air it assumed a 
 dead and unwholesome appearance that he did not like. 
 Several times he shook his head at it and was finally so 
 oppressed that he rolled a cigarette and lit it as the only 
 possible stimulant under such circumstances. The first 
 inhalation made him cough, and he swore. It reminded 
 
254 THE LAND CLAIMERS 
 
 him too much of the history of his own claim, and the 
 men and women who had died in this sunless forest, 
 gasping for a breath of the fresher air and a sight of the 
 open sky. 
 
 Two hours later he emerged from the mouth of a canyon 
 upon the county road. As if by a sudden unclosing of his 
 ears, he heard the thunder of the surf on the shore. A few 
 more steps and he stood in the road and out of the shadow 
 of the timber. He had never traveled this way before, 
 but he knew the directions and remembered that another 
 mile of tramping should bring him to the crest of the big 
 cape, whence a second trail would take him to Depot Bay. 
 He began the long and muddy ascent. 
 
 At the house on the bald top of the cape he saw nobody. 
 By this time it was raining heavily, and he could barely 
 distinguish the flat gray extent of the Pacific far below 
 him. He noticed that the wind had shifted into the 
 south-east, and that the clouds were still unbroken. It 
 satisfied him that the storm would not break for many 
 hours yet. 
 
 With some difficulty and many references to a drip- 
 ping sign-board on a tree, he found the trail that was to 
 take him to Depot Bay. It dipped from the road across a 
 huge rolling down, and when he had followed it a mile he 
 found himself skirting the edge of a cliff of sharp, jagged 
 rock, at whose foot the surf was tumbling. Now and 
 
THE LAND CLAIMERS ^55 
 
 then a gull swung out of the mist, shot swiftly by and 
 vanished, sole life of this dreary spot. Once he thought 
 he heard a dog bark, but decided that his ear had been 
 deceived. The trail swung round another shoulder, was 
 almost lost among scantily covered rocks and then shot 
 upwards to the dark trench of the road. 
 
 The next few miles stirred his interest. The road be- 
 came an impassable bog, and he had to run along logs in 
 the brush on one side of it, cross up to his knees in mud or 
 absolutely abandon it to scramble along a vague trail for 
 a few rods till a pitch gave him secure footing again on 
 the main way. At every turn he saw new things. Little 
 bays hollowed out of smooth rock opened up below him, 
 their slender beaches strewn with drift-wood and haunted 
 by mews. Gradually the timber closed down upon him 
 again, the huge trees stepping boldly clear to the margin 
 of the cliff. He mounted great shoulders of rock and 
 descended on the other side to ford brawling streams. 
 Waterfalls spun their thread of noise far inland. Springs 
 bubbled at his feet. And through all and over all was the 
 loud roar of the sea sweeping against the rocks and foam- 
 ing into the bays. 
 
 As the afternoon darkened into evening, he quickened 
 his pace. He had not yet reached Depot Bay, and he knew 
 from gossip that it would be impossible to cross it after 
 nightfall were the tide in. He had forgotten to look up 
 
256 THE LAND CLAIMERS 
 
 what hour the tide was low, and he could not tell from 
 the shores of the bays, as he had never seen them before. 
 It was certainly time he was arriving. 
 
 Just when he was debating whether he was not lost, 
 the road dipped down the steep side of the shoulder he had 
 ascended, curved among the big spruces and hemlocks 
 into a sort of green tunnel and then stopped. Peering out 
 across a dull extent of weedy gravel interspersed with 
 mantled pools, Spencer recognized that strange spot 
 known to all Siletz settlers as Depot Bay. 
 
 Behind him the hill rose to lofty, rainy heights. To his 
 left a high wall of rock ciu*ved away in an apparently 
 unbroken arc. On his right hand the hill's bluff formed 
 another curve that met the first just ahead of him and 
 across the gravel. This huge circular wall was filled with 
 the thunder of the invisible surf. Here and there dark 
 logs were strewn, showing that the tide ebbed and flowed 
 across the shoals. And his sharpest glances could perceive 
 no inlet or exit. 
 
 It was growing late, however, and he started across the 
 gravel. He scented beneath him the pungent smells of 
 tide and seaweed. Little crabs scuttled out from under 
 the stones his feet disturbed, and he observed that the 
 green that covered the pools was the floating blades of 
 sea-grass. He waded a small creek and was amazed to 
 hear the rasp of the gravel under his feet suddenly magni- 
 
THE LAND CLAIM ERS 257 
 
 fied and thrown back on him like the crash of a stony 
 cascade. A moment later he saw a wagon-track and 
 followed it till it turned round a big black log and shot 
 up a little incline, which he saw was the entrance to a 
 road. Safely here, he turned to glance over the bay 
 again. As he did so, he caught a glimpse of flickering 
 white in the seaward wall. It rose swiftly, foamed and 
 swept into the bay through the split in the rock. The 
 farther pools surged as the water poured into them, and 
 the foam, gyrating on their troubled surfaces, gradually 
 melted away. "Tm in luck," Spencer muttered. "They 
 say this place is full when the tide's in." He stared up 
 at its steep, vine-festooned walls and shrugged his shoul- 
 ders. It was a trap for the unwary. 
 
 When he had emerged from the bay, he quickly found 
 the small board that said "White's Cabin 2 Blazes 
 2 Miles," which he rightly interpreted to mean that if 
 he followed a trail marked by trees with two blazes for 
 two miles he would arrive at his destination. Settling his 
 pack more firmly on his tired shoulders, he turned off the 
 road into the brush and was soon back in the forest again, 
 out of sound of the sea and with no view of the sky above 
 him. 
 
 It was quite dark when he crossed a small clearing, 
 stumbling over several small trees that tipped over as 
 though they had no roots, and knocked at the door of the 
 
258 THE LAND CLAIMERS 
 
 cabin. A moment later Lim White was staring at him. 
 Spencer pushed his way in. " I came pretty nearly being 
 late for supper, I guess," he said airily. "Better late than 
 never, though." 
 
 White shut the door and returned to the stove. "I'll 
 fix some more ham." 
 
 Spencer slung his pack-sack from his shoulders and 
 took off his reeking jacket. "It's goin' to storm," he 
 remarked. 
 
 White nodded. " I did n't expect to see you in this 
 part of the country," he said indifferently. 
 
 "I came over to look at young Marini's new place," 
 Spencer retorted, and White, after an uneasy stare, 
 smiled coldly. But he decided that Spencer was come to 
 compromise and he did not think fit to rebuff him. They 
 sat down to the meagre supper in apparent good humor 
 and devoted themselves to the victuals. Once or twice 
 White stopped eating to Usten for something. "I was 
 listening for the wind," he explained. "It looks like a 
 storm." 
 
 "Yes," Spencer assented, reaching for a biscuit. 
 
 "I'm going out to McCarthy's in the morning," White 
 went on. "I'd hate to see it blow before then." 
 
 His anxiety did not escape the other man. "You know 
 we've had so long a spell of good weather we'll pretty 
 sure have a hard storm," White went on. 
 
THE LAND CLAIMERS 259 
 
 "I believe you," Spencer answered cheerfully. "And 
 it'll delay your getting to Portland to prove up.'* 
 
 "Oh, if it storms too hard, I'll go down the beach to 
 Newport," was the reply. 
 
 Spencer did not answer but reached for more biscuit. 
 
CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 WHEN the meal was finished, Spencer got up and 
 went outside, where he surveyed the dim patch 
 of clouds visible above the swaying tree-tops. In the 
 darkness it was difficult to distinguish their movement, 
 but the growing roar among the branches and the sudden 
 surging of the limbs towards the tops of the firs showed 
 that the wind was rising. " It '11 blow ! " Spencer chuckled 
 to himself. "So much the better." He re-entered the 
 cabin and watched White wash up the dishes with feeble 
 and inefficient efforts, as though he thought it beneath 
 his dignity. When this work was done, White came 
 over and sat down by the stove. 
 
 "I suppose you've come over to see whether I 
 would n't like to buy Marini's relinquishment," he 
 said. 
 
 Spencer cocked one eye at the rafters and meditated. 
 "I dunno know as that was it," he remarked. "There 
 was several things I wanted to see you about." 
 
 "Well, out with 'em," White said roughly. "I got to 
 be up at daylight to go in and I'm tired. I'm going to 
 bed early." 
 
THE LAND CLAIMERS 261 
 
 Spencer nodded, with every appearance of anxiety. 
 "I'd like to have time to talk about this," he said. "I'd 
 hate to be hurried." 
 
 "I have n't got all night," was the response. 
 
 There was a silence, during which White glanced con- 
 temptuously at the weazened figure of his visitor. It 
 occurred to him that Spencer had lost his nerve and was 
 afraid to open the business that had brought him so far. 
 He yawned and got up. 
 
 "If you happen to think of anything to say while I 
 get into bed, you might mention it," he said loudly. 
 
 "I will," Spencer replied, with every appearance of 
 timidity. White, after one look of absolute indifference 
 to anything that Spencer might say or do, drew off his 
 boots and his clothes and rolled himself up in his blankets, 
 without even indicating where Spencer could sleep. The 
 latter knew that this was a discourtesy that White would 
 not have dared offer to any man but a settler, no matter 
 how bitter their feud, and he smiled. 
 
 White, after several sly glances at Spencer who still 
 sat by the fire, fell asleep and testified to the soundness 
 of his slumber by loud snores. Spencer kept up the fire 
 but made no sign of his own intention of going to bed. He 
 sat and dreamed, an occasional smile flickering over his 
 lean face, or a transient frown indicating that the course 
 of his'thought had an unpleasant turn. Without, the wind 
 
262 THE LAND CLAIMERS 
 
 grew in strength, and the note of the timber grew in vol- 
 ume. To tell the truth, the watcher's thoughts did not 
 comprehend the storm outside, though it is likely that 
 it had a subconscious effect; he was retracing the events 
 of his varied life, noting here a success, there a failure; 
 living over again a moment of happiness, trudging wearily 
 back over a half -forgotten and ugly by-path. 
 
 Every now and again his mouth twisted grimly. For 
 as often as the circle of his thoughts turned on itself, he 
 saw the letter he had received in which the doctor had 
 warned him of his infirmity and stated the result of excite- 
 ment and strife. But as often as he saw these words again 
 he shook his head slightly and murmured, "I ain't no 
 quitter!" 
 
 Once in a while he would look at the sleeper with a 
 careful and appraising glance at his long limbs and evident 
 physical strength. Then he would start out again on the 
 long round of thought and pain and brief happiness. He 
 stirred the fire. 
 
 The cheap clock announced midnight, and he still sat 
 by the stove and White still slept stertorously. The wind 
 was rising fast. Far up the mountain weak stubs were 
 yielding to its blast and tumbling with faint detonations, 
 like the explosion of damp powder. Once a larger body 
 fell with a noise that resounded heavily through the 
 clearing. White twisted restlessly in his bunk. 
 
THE LAND CLAIMERS 263 
 
 The hours passed slowly, one o'clock, two o'clock, three 
 o'clock, four o'clock. The darkness deepened, and the 
 shrill note of the gale was to be heard. Over the little 
 cabin the huge fir limbs twisted and groaned, showering 
 great splashes of water down on the shake roof. The fire 
 in the stove panted, glowed brightly as the draft sucked 
 up the pipe or fumed when an eddy burst down from above. 
 But as yet the cabin was unshaken, and the air in the 
 clearing only faintly answered to the howling tempest 
 above. But as five o'clock drew on White sat up, rubbing 
 his eyes. A gust had rocked the cabin, and the thunder 
 of a falling tree reverberated loudly. He stared at Spencer 
 and said querulously, "It's storming." 
 
 There was no reply. White lay down again and turned 
 his face to the wall. But when a second huge fir crashed 
 down near by, the echo of its fall resounding in the very 
 room, he sat up swiftly and swore. Spencer observed the 
 tokens of fear and smiled. " It's easy," he said to himself. 
 
 Dawn saw White trying to gain courage to go out the 
 door for a bucket of water. But the beating rain, the 
 shrieking wind and the turmoil in the timber had taken 
 his last bit of nerve, and he failed even to pass the door. 
 
 " You 'd oughta cut down some of them big fellows over 
 the cabin," Spencer said coldly. "If one of them blows 
 down, you'll be a dead one, siu-e." 
 
 White glared at him with a curse. 
 
264 THE LAND CLAIM ERS 
 
 "Yes, sir," Spencer pursued. "I'd hate to take the 
 chances you do. But then you won't be here much 
 longer, of course. 'Nd those trees are wuth money." 
 
 "It never stormed this way before," White muttered. 
 "It's awful." 
 
 "Oh, yes, it's stormed worse 'n this," Spencer affirmed 
 confidently. " 'Nd this storm ain't really on its legs yet. 
 You just wait till it blows.'' He rolled a cigarette and lit 
 it with a careful hand. He glanced over at his host. 
 "Cigarettes ain't very good for me," he said slowly. 
 " 'Nd I don't smoke 'em when I 'm tryin' to put on 
 weight. But I guess I c'n afford to smoke one now. 
 You smoke too much yourself. Look at that hand, now. 
 You're all of a shake." 
 
 White recovered himself by a great effort and growled 
 something that was inarticulate. He set the water bucket 
 down and retired to the stove. Spencer rose, picked it up 
 and started for the door. "If you'll tell me where your 
 spring is," he suggested, "I'll fetch something to drink." 
 
 "Down under the big spruce," was the reply. 
 
 Spencer shut the door behind him and struggled across 
 the clearing to the spot indicated. When he had filled his 
 bucket he stopped and stared up at the gray sky. Far 
 above him a fir's crest leaned away over, as though sud- 
 denly fixed there by some weighty and invisible hand 
 upon it. On the other side of the clearing a broken limb, 
 
THE LAND CLAIMERS 265 
 
 still clinging to the mother trunk by long yellow withes, 
 twirled rapidly, first one way and then the other. 
 ''That'll be down on us pretty soon," Spencer said aloud. 
 Then he made his way back into the cabin. 
 
 As he set the bucket down, there was a sudden, sharp, 
 muffled report. The building shook with rapid, sicken- 
 ing vibrations. As White started to his feet Spencer 
 opened the door. Just outside, one end thrust through the 
 shakes of the porch deep into the sour soil, the huge branch 
 that had been twirling two hundred feet in the air but a 
 moment before shivered from the impact of its descent. 
 
 "I told you you'd oughta cut them trees down," 
 Spencer remarked, closing the door carefully. "When 
 you goin' to start for Portland?" 
 
 "Not now. It's two miles to the road, right through 
 the timber," was the reply. "It would be death to 
 try it! " 
 
 "I guess you're right," was the calm response. "But 
 if you don't go, you'll lose your claim. If you ain't there, 
 you won't stand any show." 
 
 "I'll telegraph," White said rapidly. "I'll send Mc- 
 Carthy over to Toledo to wire them that I'll be up the 
 next day." 
 
 "Good idea," Spencer said heartily, but his spirits 
 fell when he thought that Hal might be detained, too, by 
 the storm. But Hal was twenty miles nearer Toledo, a 
 
266 THE LAND CLAIMERS 
 
 day's trip. He wished he had sent him off before with his 
 witnesses. But it was too late to wish. He sat down and 
 stared at White with complacent interest. 
 
 He had to get his own breakfast, as his host seemed 
 incapable of directed effort. When he had finished it, 
 he set the coffee-pot on the back of the stove and sat down 
 at the table. 
 
 "I guess we might as well get down to that little busi- 
 ness,'* he remarked loudly. 
 
 White suddenly seemed to recover himself. "What do 
 you want?" he said harshly. " I won't pay a cent for the 
 relinquishment of that young cub. I offered to do the 
 friendly thing and he refused." 
 
 " That was n't it. You have a short memory, Mr. 
 White. First" — Spencer counted the items off on the 
 fingers of one hand — "you soaked me eight hundred 
 dollars for that claim I've got. It ain't wuth a dollar. 
 Second, you done up old lady Parthemore and her gell 
 for this claim. Third, you ain't run up against a man, 
 and your eddication is poor yet." 
 
 "You've talked a plenty," White stormed. "Now you 
 get out of this place — qnick ! If you don't, I '11 throw 
 you out!" " 
 
 "You ain't heard me out," Spencer went on imperturb- 
 ably. "Now you've gotta do this: gimme me back my 
 eight hundred plunks and make out your relinquishment 
 
THE LAND CLAIMERS 267 
 
 to Hal Marini. You do that and I'll let the eddication 
 go." Spencer smiled a sudden luminous smile. 
 
 White strode out of his chair and to within a foot of his 
 visitor. "I'll give you just two minutes to pack up and 
 git!" He breathed heavily, savagely; with an air of 
 truculence and desire for blood. 
 
 Spencer looked up at him, his teeth showing slightly 
 between his lips. "I'll give you longer 'n that," he re- 
 sponded softly. "I'll give you three minutes to do what 
 I say." 
 
 With trembling hands, White drew out his watch and 
 affected to watch the passage of the two minutes he had 
 allowed Spencer. But that man seemed quite at ease, 
 though an impartial spectator might have seen what 
 White did not, — that every muscle w^as tense. White 
 snapped the cover of the watch and struck out his arm to 
 carry his threat into execution. Oddly enough, his hand 
 never closed on the smaller man's shoulder. Instead, he 
 received a stinging blow under the eye, which was instantly 
 followed by a harder one in the stomach. Then, with a 
 growl like a hungry dog,. Spencer threw himself at him, 
 calling to his aid all the knowledge and skill achieved in a 
 boisterous and successful life among men who ow^ned no 
 law but the one of physical might. White fought back 
 viciously, all the ugliness of his nature gaining free rein. 
 They struggled to kill. 
 
268 THE LAND CLAIMERS 
 
 But Spencer seemed made of iron; his fists fell like 
 hammers. White's longer reach and greater muscle were 
 of no avail after the first three minutes, and then Spencer 
 turned his tactics not to beat and crush, but to drive the 
 man desperate, to break his spirit, to make him from a 
 man into a cringing cur. It was a thing he had done be- 
 fore, in dark hallways over low saloons, behind lumber 
 piles on wharves, in a tossing boat, in dark forecastles. 
 As he felt White's muscles grow weak beneath his blows, 
 he suddenly felt the exhilaration of "the man-breaker, 
 whose art is the art of the bronco buster of the plains, of 
 the animal tamer, of the harsh and unbending masters of 
 the sea. He drove his meagre fists into the writhing man's 
 face with steady and persistent jabs that brought him to 
 his knees. He flung his whole arm in savage strength 
 against the sounding and heaving chest. Now and again 
 he spoke, in low, tense tones, repeating over and over: 
 "Take it for the widder! Take it for the poor gell you 
 lied to!" 
 
 Time and time again White struggled to his feet, reach- 
 ing out his furious arms to clinch this fiend, and each time 
 he was driven to his knees to clutch at the rough floor, 
 filling his fingers with splinters. And Spencer's voice kept 
 on, beating in upon his terrified ear this chorus of hatred, 
 of contempt, of profound and vengeful purpose. 
 
 Without the cabin the gale roared, its steady and trem- 
 
THE LAND CLAIMERS 269 
 
 ulous note shot through with the sharp artillery of crash- 
 ing trees, of rending roots and cracking branches. The 
 rain beat on the roof in roaring cataracts, knocked at the 
 window with a hundred hard knuckles, drove down the 
 stove-pipe in hissing streams. Within, Spencer beat down 
 his enemy with furious blows, exerting his strength to 
 reach the life struggling in him, to conquer him, to drive 
 out the evil and malign spirit that had actuated him. 
 White fought back feebly, his eyes glaring, the terror of 
 death written on his face. 
 
 Suddenly the floor of the cabin heaved and sank. With 
 a vast clatter of pans and dishes, the thin wall gave in, 
 cracking and splintering. And the long-drawn, screeching 
 bellow of a huge tree yielding to the gale filled the room 
 with a fresh and awful sound. White, biting savagely at 
 the hand at his throat, struggled to his feet, yelled, and 
 tumbled on his face. Bending over him, Spencer saw a 
 huge, ponderous tree-trunk sink with infinite slowness and 
 might through the roof and into the wrecked cabin. He 
 stared at it and watched its slow descent with bright, 
 keen eyes. When it came to rest, spanning the crumbled 
 floor like a monstrous fallen column, he dragged White 
 farther away from its overhanging bulk and stared at 
 him. He wondered if he were dead. 
 
 Fifteen minutes later White sat shaking in a chair, 
 
270 THE LAND CLAIMERS 
 
 licking his lips with a dry tongue. His furtive eyes and 
 trembling frame showed Spencer that his work was done. 
 Only remained this ignoble and worthless shell, quivering 
 when he raised his fiery eyes upon it, clutching at the chair 
 with raw fingers, now and then glancing in pure terror at 
 the tree that had buried stove and bed and table beneath 
 its mass. The tempest that roared through the broken 
 and leaning walls went over them, bearing sounds of de- 
 struction and death. Spencer reaUzed that it was time to 
 quit the ruined cabin if he were to save the fruits of his 
 victory. He spoke sharply, his tones shrilling above the 
 noise of the storm. "Come! Get out of this!'' 
 
 But White had lost all sense of any peril except that 
 which faced him. He gaped, crying for his life with short, 
 staccato cries, like a dog. Spencer grasped him and hurled 
 him out of the chair, through the broken wall and into the 
 clearing, littered with fallen branches crossed here and 
 there by a long tree. Then he proceeded to drive him into 
 the trail, and outward where the open held hope of life 
 and safety. 
 
 The faint daylight that penetrated the lower forest 
 barely showed them their way. Before they had gone a 
 hundred yards, a fresh windfall blocked the trail, and 
 Spencer was forced to drag his companion over it by main 
 strength. Then began two hours of wracking toil. It 
 was fast growing dark when they emerged at last on the 
 
THE LAND CLAIMERS 271 
 
 open road above the cliffs. Here Spencer allowed White 
 to rest a moment while he pondered their next move. 
 "The tide^s out now in Depot Bay/* he thought. "We'll 
 get across that, and then I'll make him go on to Otter 
 Rock." He turned savagely to say "Come on I" 
 
 They stumbled down into the overhung road that led 
 into the bay, though White seemed almost incapable of 
 motion. Once down and at the edge of the huge circular 
 rocky well, Spencer gasped. It echoed with the thunder 
 of the surf outside in wild peals that seemed to shake the 
 lofty cliffs. At the mouth of the narrow entrance, tossing 
 foam roared twenty feet high, swept away before the wind 
 and left a tumbling mass of water to break in over the 
 gravel till it filled the whole place with moiling water, 
 even to where they stood in the road. "My God!" 
 White mumbled. 
 
 Spencer watched the water gather, flow swiftly back 
 and pile up in a wild mass in the entrance. He grasped his 
 companion's arm and dragged him down upon the wet 
 stones. "Now run for your life to the other side!" he 
 yelled. "Run before the water comes back!" White, 
 pitched headlong down, caught himself, stumbled and 
 then dashed on towards the opposite wall, with Spencer 
 panting behind him. As they scrambled up the slippery 
 rocks on the other side, the water boiled in after them, 
 clutched at their legs and was dashed back by the cliffs 
 
272 THE LAND CLAIMERS 
 
 in a frantic uproar. Spencer dragged White to his feet 
 and drove him on, up the road. 
 
 They emerged on the gale-swept height of the hill into 
 tne full fury of the storm. The wind had drawn round to 
 the southwest, and the spray of the breaking surges below 
 stung their cheeks and made them bend their heads. But 
 this time White needed no urging. Bareheaded, coatless, 
 his bloody arms nake4 to the shoulders, where the sleeves 
 of his shirt had been torn, he plunged on, driven now by 
 a fear that knew no other terror beside itself. Spencer 
 coughed behind him, swerving his course whenever White 
 staggered to one side or the other, in order that he might 
 take advantage of the slender shelter of his tall body. It 
 grew dark, and the wind seemed to blow with greater 
 violence upon them. At times White would stop, lean- 
 ing against the blast with all his weight, reaching out 
 desperate arms to clutch himself forward. And then 
 Spencer would fight back the agony that threatened to 
 burst from his chest and suffocate him, bend his head 
 lower and struggle on. 
 
 At last they were in a darkness so complete that further 
 progress was possible only by degrees. But it was evident 
 that White had some shelter in mind, for he kept the 
 road as by a miracle and fought on and on frantically. 
 Spencer wondered where this shelter could be. But 
 when White turned up the hill, and the wind caught them 
 
THE LAND CLAIMERS 273 
 
 at their backs, he followed gladly till they stumbled into 
 a low fence. They crawled through it and a moment later 
 flung themselves against a door which yielded and let 
 them plunge into a dark room. 
 
 Gathering his fainting strength, Spencer groped round 
 for matches. He found them and by the light of one dis- 
 covered a lantern. He lit it and hung it on a nail. Then 
 he saw that they were in a cabin of some size. Bedding 
 in the bunk, dishes on the table and wood piled beside 
 the stove showed that it was inhabited, though the owner 
 was not at home. He shufiled to the stove and started a 
 fire. Then he made coffee and set it on the griddle. White 
 huddled in a chair, shivering. 
 
 As the fire crackled up and the room grew warmer, 
 Spencer muttered to himself: "I gotta do it quick. The 
 doc was right . . . gotta get that relinquishment . . . the 
 eight hundred. ..." He staggered about like a drunken 
 man. Now and then he dimly saw the huddled figure of 
 his enemy. 
 
 When the coffee was ready, he poured out a cup of it 
 and drank it, scalding hot as it was. The awful pain in 
 his chest became easier. His eyes cleared. He stood up- 
 right. Then he walked over to the little table and with 
 lantern in hand found pen and ink and paper. Laying 
 these out, he went over and shook White by the shoulder. 
 "Get busy," he said hoarsely. "Make out that relin- 
 
274 THE LAND CLAIMERS 
 
 quishment, now." He pulled a damp paper from an inside 
 pocket. "I got the proper printed form right here and 
 the description and everything written in. Get busy." 
 
 White stared up fearfully. 
 
 ''I'll give ye one minute," Spencer said savagely. 
 "Just one minute to Uve if you don't." He shook his 
 fist before him. 
 
 The locator got to his feet and went to the table. 
 Spencer shoved the lantern over till its dull gleam fell 
 directly on the paper. When White glanced up, some- 
 what restored by the sight of a familiar legal form, he 
 met hot, dangerous eyes, and knew by that strange in- 
 stinct of animal nature that this was death if he failed to 
 do what he was commanded. He dipped the pen. 
 
 As he wrote in his name and the date, Spencer stood 
 over him, breathing heavily. Deep in his heart a great 
 pain was growing. It seemed to spread and increase like 
 a creeping fountain of molten metal. It reached into his 
 very entrails and its heat scorched his throat. Bright 
 visions shone before his eyes, and White's cowering figure 
 seemed to recede into the recesses of the world, distinct 
 though dark and miniature. He gripped himself anew and 
 by pure force of his will drew that figure back to him till 
 he could read the characters being written with that soft, 
 shaking hand. White threw down the pen. "Does that 
 suit you?" he snarled. 
 
As he wrote in his name and the date, Spencer stood over him, 
 breathing heavily " t^age 274 
 
THE LAND CLAIMERS 275 
 
 "The eight hundred!'* 
 
 There was a silence in the cabin. White got up furi- 
 ously. But Spencer's fist shot out, and he sank down 
 again, weeping. "I haven't got it; it's in the cabin," 
 he sobbed. 
 
 "Take off your belt!" 
 
 It dropped on the floor, and Spencer picked it up with 
 a swift sweep of his arm, buckled it about himself, 
 picked up the relinquishment and thrust it in his pocket. 
 Then he walked to the stove, seized the coffee-pot and 
 poured out another cup, which he drank at a gulp. An 
 instant later he was at the door. As it swung open and 
 the wind howled in. White shouted. But the door closed 
 again, leaving him prisoner with fear and terror of storm 
 and darkness. 
 
 Spencer crawled over the fence and stumbled through 
 the murk towards the road. His feet found it, and he 
 turned and struggled south. " I must n't croak before 
 Hal gets this," he thought over and over again. Later he 
 whispered huskily, "I ain't no quitter!" and leaned 
 forward into the teeth of the wind. Above him a faint 
 glow showed the moon through thinning clouds. The 
 storm was over. 
 
CHAPTER XIX 
 
 WHEN Spencer had gone, Sally went back into the 
 cabin and told Hal that it was going to storm 
 hard. " If I were you and had to be in Portland Wednes- 
 day, I'd start right out," she said. "If you don't, you 
 may have to miss your train in Toledo and lose your 
 claim." She appealed to Flossetta. "We can stay here 
 all right, can't we? And Hal '11 lose his place if he is n't 
 there on the dot. I know Lim White's ways. He won't 
 wait a minute." 
 
 Flossetta agreed, and Hal was convinced, against his 
 will, that he must go that day. So immediately after 
 luncheon he departed, pack on back, for the Agency. 
 When he was gone, Sally carried in several armsful of 
 wood, drew water and prepared for the storm. Her 
 activity lasted till darkness came. Then she got supper 
 and washed the dishes, while Flossetta paced the floor, 
 stared out the window or investigated shyly the mysteries 
 of her son's wardrobe. 
 
 "I'd like to have Sim and Hal here," she remarked, 
 when they were seated by the lamp. "It seems lone- 
 some." , 
 
THE LAND CLAIMERS 277 
 
 Sally nodded. 
 
 " I suppose Hal 's new claim will be lonely, too. I wish 
 it was closer to this one. Poor boy! I wonder if Sim 
 has got to Newport yet? " 
 
 "I don^t know," Sally answered dully. "But they're 
 both all right." 
 
 "Of course," Flossetta assented, with a smile. "Sim 
 is all right anywhere. Why, when I knew him, he 'd rather 
 fight than eat. I had an awful time to keep him from 
 going and fighting with my husband when — when he 
 left me." 
 
 It was the first reference Flossetta had made to her 
 husband, and Sally looked up sympathetically. "That 
 must have been hard." 
 
 Flossetta looked suddenly old. "Yes," she said wearily. 
 " But I was n't in his class, after all. And his people 
 thought I was a poor wife." 
 
 No more was said till bedtime, when Sally kissed the 
 older woman and remarked: "My sakes! If you cry 
 any more, I'll tell Spencer and Hal. It ain't good for 
 you!" 
 
 Flossetta's eyes glowed. " Do you know I hate women 
 like that Miss Fletcher?" 
 
 "She's rather high and mighty," Sally responded 
 quietly. 
 
 " If Hal should fall in love with her and marry her, I *d 
 
278 THE LAND CLAIMERS 
 
 die," the older woman went on quickly. "She'd despise 
 me!" 
 
 Later she awoke and called over to Sally, "Do you 
 think Hal likes Miss Fletcher?" 
 
 There was no answer. 
 
 The next day showed that Flossetta's apparent recov- 
 ery of her health was due solely to happiness. Deprived, 
 even for a day, of her son's company, she languished. 
 Her cheeks looked thin and pale, dark circles came under 
 her eyes and she stepped feebly. Once Sally saw her go 
 outside and cough miserably, her skirt blowing in the 
 gale which now made the timber resound. 
 
 But the full force of the storm seemed to pass over the 
 inner forest, and Sally watched its increase with more 
 equanimity than usual. There was the steady roar over- 
 head, the echo of a falling tree at long intervals, but in the 
 recess where Spencer's cabin was built, there was compara- 
 tive peace. So they stayed indoors all that day. When 
 night came and the wind hauled into another quarter, 
 the timber around them suddenly woke up. Midnight 
 found them clasped in each other's arms, crying. And as 
 they lay there trembling and sobbing, Flossetta opened 
 her heart to the girl in little snatches of confession, of 
 prayer, of hope and motherly ambition. And Sally 
 knew that here was a worse agony than physical terror 
 — the agony of a woman with a broken heart. 
 
THE LAND CLAIMERS 279 
 
 In the morning neither of them referred to the night 
 that was past, but busied themselves about the Uttle 
 cabin or in the clearing in the watery sunshine. It was 
 while Flossetta was out of doors that Sally, mixing biscuit, 
 heard her call out. She ran to see what the matter was. 
 "Look here! look here!" Flossetta whispered. "Who is 
 that?" 
 
 A strange figure was stumbling up from the creek 
 bottom, a figure covered with mud, disheveled, hat- 
 less, waving meagre arms, silently presenting the 
 spectacle of a decrepit and dying scarecrow. The 
 women stared at it, fearfully. But Flossetta's eyes 
 suddenly saw. She started to run forward, crying, 
 "Sim! Sim!" 
 
 He staggered up the trail, with great exertions, with 
 incredible and miraculous contortions, clutching one lean 
 arm to his breast, waving the other in amazing circles, 
 as though giving emphasis to some mortal and astounding 
 joke. He did not see Flossetta, who stood with hands 
 outheld to touch him, to help him. Instead he drove him- 
 self on, muttering to himself, till he tumbled at Sally*s 
 feet. She dropped to her knees and sobbed over him. 
 "What is it? What is it?" 
 
 "The doc . . . doc was quite c'rect . . . Here!" his 
 voice suddenly burst out in a great note of triumph. His 
 hand thrust out to her a paper, dived to his waist and 
 
280 THE LAND CLAIMERS 
 
 tore Lim White's belt off. As it ripped, there was the 
 chink of gold, and bright coins rolled away. 
 
 They bore him into the cabin and put him to bed with 
 tender cries and sobs. He lay unconscious and silent 
 under their ministrations, breathing fast. They rubbed 
 his limbs, bathed him, forced hot coffee between his purple 
 lips, besought him to speak. But he lay before them 
 speechless, with sightless eyes, only his painful and rasp- 
 ing breath to show that he lived. 
 
 Suddenly he awoke and sat up. "Take that relinquish- 
 ment to Hal — right off . . . Flossetta, cheer up ... I 
 ain't no quitter!" He fell back to resume his painful 
 breathing, his glassy stare at the rafters. 
 
 They found the paper, and Sally instantly understood 
 its purport. But how to get it to Hal? Even if she got it 
 to the Agency that night, it would not arrive in Portland 
 till Wednesday evening — too late to assure Hal's victory. 
 There was but one hope: it must be taken to Newport 
 that night. She turned to Flossetta and explained it to 
 her. "I've got to go," she said. "I'll get a doctor, too." 
 Flossetta nodded, with a glance at the sick man. 
 
 "It's for Hal's sake," Sally went on. "Spencer did his 
 part. Now we must n't let it all be for nothing." 
 
 A moment later she was booted, pack-sack on her back. 
 "I'm off," she said briefly. "I'll bring the doctor with 
 me." She slipped to the door, looked bashfully over her 
 
THE LAND CLAIMERS 281 
 
 shoulder and then stepped to Spencer's side and stooped 
 over. As she kissed him he stirred, smiling in his world 
 of dreams. His lips moved, and they heard the whisper 
 "Flossetta!" 
 
 When Sally had gone, Flossetta set herself to get a 
 meal and to fix some broth for her patient. She kept up 
 the fire and brought in water, with a certain weary pleasure 
 in it. Now and then she seated herself by Spencer's side 
 and smoothed his forehead or fed him soup from a tea- 
 spoon. At another time she stared at the little pile of 
 gold on the table and wondered how he had obtained it, 
 how he had got that paper that Sally said was so precious 
 to her son. She remembered Spencer's old ways — ways 
 that he had never spoken to her about, but which her 
 husband had mentioned with scorn. He had called him 
 a "bruiser," a "pug," a "pirate." She resolved to inspect 
 Spencer's clothes. Half an hour later she was guiltily 
 burning his shirt in the stove, trying to obliterate a tell- 
 tale stain of blood on the sleeve. Then she put her face 
 in her hands and sobbed. How he had loved her! how 
 faithful he had been ! And now — she stared at him — 
 he had killed some one that her boy might have the best. 
 Life was a dreadful thing. 
 
 At dark he seemed to rouse slightly, and she bent over 
 him. He drew down his brows in an effort to see her. 
 "It's Flossetta," she told him. 
 
282 THE LAND CLAIMERS 
 
 "Ah!" he sighed. " Did you get the paper? " 
 
 "Sally's gone to Newport with it/' she assured him. 
 "She'll send it right up to him so he'll get it in time. 
 Sim!" 
 
 His dulled ear caught the anxiety in her tone. He 
 roused himself again. " What? " he called out, very loudly. 
 
 "Did you — did you kill anybody?" 
 
 His groping hand found hers. "No," he said, faintly. 
 "But I done it! I ain't no quitter, Flossetta!" 
 
 She bent over and kissed him, timidly. And bearing 
 that kiss on his lips he drifted away into the world of 
 dreams again. 
 
 It was early in the morning when Sally preceded the 
 doctor down the trail to Spencer's cabin. That old and 
 hard-working man sat his pony with an ease that showed 
 long custom. As the animal splashed through the creek 
 bottom and up into the clearing, the doctor slipped off 
 and dropped the reins over the pony's head. Then he 
 hurried up to the cabin. 
 
 Half an hour later he came out and looked at Sally. 
 His grave and kindly glance rested on her with sympathy, 
 with a sort of mild and beneficent affection. "He's 
 dying," he said. "The matter is with his heart." 
 
 She gazed at him, troubled. "How long?" 
 
 He shook his head. "I don't know. Soon." He 
 
THE LAND CLAIMERS 283 
 
 whistled to his horse. " I need n't come back. Give him 
 the medicine, if he needs it." And without another word 
 he started back the twenty miles to Newport, his straight 
 and military figure giving the impression of diligence, 
 authority, austere sense of duty. 
 
 Spencer was conscious when she entered, and his dark 
 eyes were following Flossetta about. Now and then he 
 smoothed the blanket down over his chest, as though to 
 soothe something asleep beneath it. "I see you're back," 
 he said huskily to Sally. 
 
 "My sakes!" she replied lightly. "I see you are, too. 
 Lim White must have got his!" 
 
 A faint, almost imperceptible smile crossed his face. 
 " Easy, like takin' candy from a kid . . . scared . . . the 
 money is Flossetta's." 
 
 As they prepared dinner, his eyes grew wistful. "I 
 ain't never seen you lookin' better, Miss Flossetta," he 
 whispered. "You look like a girl, I declare!" 
 
 She went over to him. " I have n't thanked you, Sim, 
 yet. I don't know what I'd done without you, Sim. 
 You've always stayed by me and helped me and now — " 
 
 "Now you've got Hal," he answered, closing his eyes. 
 " I always loved you, Flossetta. But I was n't good enough 
 for you. You was right. But I was n't goin' to quit. I 
 never was a quitter, Flossetta." 
 
 She leaned over him, sobbing bitterly. 
 
284 THELANDCLAIMERS 
 
 "No, I^d stayed right here with it, if Hal had n*t come. 
 But you got Hal now. 'Nd ye don*t need me. 'Nd" — 
 he opened his dark eyes slowly, fixing them on her with 
 affection — " 'nd I guess I'll quit.'* 
 
 And his long look of love and admiration and happiness 
 in service to her faded into the longer, eternal gaze that 
 sees the infinite. 
 
CHAPTER XX 
 
 THEY buried him on the slope of his Uttle clearing, 
 and the clergyman read the service beneath the 
 dark firs while Hal stood beside his mother and Sally wept, 
 on her knees beside the cold grave. And when the scout 
 and McCarthy had heaped up the earth over him and the 
 minister had departed on his horse and the little group 
 of homesteaders had scattered up the trail, Sally still 
 remained, in sorrow and alone. It was dark when she 
 came in. Hal was packing up and glanced at her to say: 
 "I'm going over to my claim to build me the cabin. 
 Will you stay with mother till then?" 
 
 Sally nodded dully. In the bunk Flossetta was lying, 
 huddled under a blanket, shivering and miserable. She 
 reached out her hand, and Sally went over and clasped 
 it. So they sat, silently, while Hal packed his few belong- 
 ings and tried to be cheerful. By the lamphght he went 
 through Spencer's papers, sorting them over. Suddenly 
 he stopped and leaned back in his seat to read one of them 
 more carefully. When he had done so, he broke the si- 
 lence. " Sim did n't leave much, but what he had he 
 left to you, Sally, all except the money in the belt." 
 
^86 THE LANDCLAIMERS 
 
 "Is that his will?" she demanded. 
 
 He nodded. "I suppose you might call it that. It's 
 a relinquishment to you of this claim. I don't know 
 whether it's any good or not. Here it is." 
 
 She took it and stared at it. In cramped and difficult 
 script it stated that Sim Spencer relinquished to the 
 Government of the United States all right, claim and 
 purpose to the title of the east one-half and the N. E. J^ 
 of N. E. M and N. E. M of the N. W. % of section 7 
 of township 9 north and 13 west of the Williamette 
 Meridian. Pinned to this paper was a short note. She 
 read it slowly: 
 
 Dear Sally, — You always said this claim was n't worth 
 a cent. But its all I got to give, and take it. Maybe you 
 can locate somebody on it and get a couple of hundred out 
 of it. Its worth that though they say hemlok is n't any good, 
 there is six million hemlok on it and that will make somebody 
 want it. Be a good girl and never marry Lim White, he 
 aint man enough. 
 
 S. Spencer. 
 
 She let the paper fall and went over and cried on Flos- 
 setta's breast. 
 
 "I used to joke him about this claim and because 
 he couldn't cook!" she said heartbrokenly. "And now 
 I 'm going to keep it and never, never sell it just because 
 I did that." 
 
 "I think it's worth keeping," Hal said slowly. "I 
 
THE LAND CLAIMERS 287 
 
 heard a man in Portland say that hemlock would be as 
 valuable as fir in five years. K that's so, you've got a 
 few thousands here yet, Sally." 
 
 Outside the moon rose and threw down into the dark 
 clearing a slender ray of cold light. The ground seemed 
 to stir beneath the great trees, to be waking into life at 
 the call of spring. The song of the creek was clear and 
 musical. Now and again a frog croaked from his pool, 
 and overhead, glistening against the moon, the pale gleam 
 of a flock of wild geese shone transiently as they flew 
 steadily to the north. 
 
 Hal sat in the open door of the cabin and thought of 
 the future, while the women still saw in their sleep the 
 dark mound that hid loyalty, generosity and gallant 
 spirit — now of the past. 
 
 Two months later Hal Marini found the cabin on what 
 was now Sally McCarthy's claim empty. In the garden 
 before the door a few yellow daffodils held up their gentle 
 heads. Sweet peas crept up a few fines of string under 
 the window. Down on the slope, Sim Spencer's grave was 
 bright with mignonette and violets. Gazing at these, Hal 
 pondered, wondering where Sally could be. The mild 
 airs of summer, passing over the grim forest, sent down 
 a faint breath of warmth and life. He had just tramped 
 over from Depot Bay, and he peered round, hardly be- 
 
THE LAND CLAIMERS 
 
 lieving that she was not here, when he had come so far 
 to see her. 
 
 A half-hour brought no Sally, and he gloomily picked 
 up his pack-sack and started on to her father's cabin, 
 thinking she might be there. But a thought struck him, 
 and instead he hastened along the trail till he came to a 
 vague track that skirted the roots of a large spruce on the 
 very shoulder of the ridge. Dropping easily down this, 
 he pushed his way through the underbrush for half a mile 
 till he came out into a small clearing. In the shadow of 
 the bushes he paused and examined the little cabin. 
 From the pipe no smoke issued, but he discerned that the 
 door was open. He stepped out and went up the path to 
 the porch. 
 
 As he set foot on it, Sally came to the door. She looked 
 at him curiously. "How did you know I was here?" 
 
 He took off his cap and slung his pack from his shoul- 
 ders. "I don't care how I knew," he said abruptly. "But 
 I knew you were here." 
 
 "I wish you hadn't come," she said coldly. "I like 
 to have one place all my own." 
 
 "Have n't you got the Old Man Peterson place now?'* 
 
 "But you can find me there," she replied. 
 
 He seemed much put out and sat down heavily on the 
 bench by the door. "You don't seem to like me at all," 
 he complained. "What have I done?" 
 
THE LAND CLAIMERS 289 
 
 She shook her head. "Nothing." 
 
 " Why don't you like me? " he insisted. 
 
 She turned her profile to him, gazing out into the dark 
 and secret timber. "I do like you," she murmured. 
 "Only I want to be happy!" 
 
 His face flushed. Her sudden appeal seemed to stop 
 the warm and impetuous words on his lips. He man- 
 aged to mutter, "Don't you think I could make you 
 happy?" 
 
 Her breath came more quickly but she said nothing. 
 He came close to her and she saw the fullness of his 
 throat, the arterial flush on his temples. "I love you, 
 Sally," he said. "I love you and — and — won't you 
 marry me?" 
 
 She shook her head. " You think — you think — I 'm 
 only a settler, Hal." 
 
 "What does that mean?" he demanded. 
 
 " It means that when you marry you must marry some 
 bright, well-dressed girl from Outside, somebody who will 
 make you proud and please your mother. Your mother 
 is very proud of you." 
 
 He stared at her blankly. Then the full tide of crimson 
 flowed over his face. He was like a man suddenly see- 
 ing his astdhishing reflection in a pool: he had thought 
 himself a man, had carried himself aloof, surveyed the 
 world superiorly, like a master of destiny. And, after 
 all, he was merely a creature. His mother had edu- 
 
290 THE LAND CLAIMERS 
 
 cated him. Sim Spencer had given him his start. He 
 had done nothing for himself. He stood before the allur- 
 ing and warm loveliness of this woman without a plea, 
 without a single claim on her regard, except through 
 others. He searched his soul for something to say that 
 would give him at least foothold against her coldness. 
 
 The moments passed like a series of minute and per- 
 fect periods of existence, as though they were compact 
 and concentrated epochs. He saw his boyhood, his col- 
 lege days, his trip from Canada to the Siletz, his ex- 
 periences with Spencer, his own grotesque actions, his 
 constant association with Sally, his petulant and child- 
 ish adherence to prejudices that, when all was said and 
 done, had not entered into his real life. And when 
 these minutes were elapsed, like pages turned in a book, 
 he came to the last chapter, that small point in eternity 
 which marked the present. He read its contents and 
 summed it up in a sentence, a single expression of what 
 life meant to him now and was to mean forever. "Sally! 
 Sally! I love you!" 
 
 She answered that cry in silence, looking at him with 
 a strange and inscrutable gaze, mingled of fear and 
 hope and memory. She seemed to see past him into 
 the future; her eyes were the eyes of the girl bred in 
 the timber, used to the sunlessness and the chill of the 
 dark forest. " I know — I am sure that — that some- 
 time — you will — " 
 
THE LAND CLAIMERS 291 
 
 Her pause brought him closer, with strong hands held 
 out to hers. And the profound and sorrowful wisdom 
 in her eyes faded into astounding gentleness and then 
 her look held his for an instant. 
 
 " I love you ! " he repeated. " It 's all I can say, Sally." 
 
 She gave him a flashing and intoxicating glance, a 
 gentle gesture of the hand and slipped silently back into 
 the house from his outstretched arms. 
 
 She came out again immediately. Without a word 
 she locked the door and withdrew the key. He reached 
 for it but she shook her head, tossing the key into the 
 brush. For the moment he did not comprehend her. 
 She met his eyes. "I won*t need it any more. It was 
 my play home." 
 
 Then he understood. 
 
 As her arms went round his neck he heard her whis- 
 per, "Oh, Hal! Don't ever, ever make me have^to be 
 happy all by myself again!" 
 
 They left the little cabin, with its miniature garden and 
 its scanty clearing, without looking back. The forest 
 swallowed it up forever from the sight of them, and with 
 it Sally's girlhood and loneliness and dim hopes and un- 
 happy hours; for she had proved up on her claim to life 
 and contentment and love. 
 
 THE END 
 
r /<o 
 
IB 40184 
 
 M143886 
 ?6/ 
 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA UBRARY