—_-
THE STORY
TER I.—Prudence Schuyler
comes from New York to Prosperity
Farm, inherited from her uncle, to
ake a new life for herself and her
other, David, whose health has been
broken by tragedy.
CHAPTER I1.—The second day on
her farm Prue adventures into the
barn loft after eggs. She slips on the
18y and falls to the ground—would
ve been badly hurt had not strong
young arms been there to catch her.
‘The arms are those of Rodney Gerard,
ch young man, who lives at High
ges on the neighboring farm. There
is at once a mutual attraction between
the two. Rod decides to stay at his
home throughout the fall and winter,
ooking after the timber.” But Pru-’
ce decides to maintain a cool at-
titude toward him. She suspects men
‘mince her sister's husband ran away
“with her brother's wife.
CHAPTER IIl.—Len Calloway, a
~ rival of Rod Gerard, tries to buy the
timber off Prue's land,
LH his conceited attitude and con-
tracts with Rod to dispose of the trees.
n the evening Prue is expecting David
from New York she is visited by Mrs.
‘Walter Gerard and” her thirteen-year-
old daughter, Jean. They are hateful,
rious persons and leave Prue rankled.
_ CHAPTER IV.—A few days later
~ Prudence comes in contact with them
ain when she accompanies Rod to
is place. A clown comes, advertising
a circus in a nearby town. Prue prom-
ses to accompany Rod and Jean to the
circus,
~ CHAPTER Vv
* Jon Gerard Pogurdel the desk in
the gun room at High Ledges with
pursed lips and angry eyes.
“Gee, but you make me mad!”
She addressed the piece of furni-
ture as if it were maliciously respon-
gible for her frustration. She wrig-
~ gled a hairpin in the lock of the top
drawer. Then with teeth set, she
grasped the handles, jerked with all
her strength. The drawer came out
with a suddenness which sent her
sprawling and scattered three letters
from the desk onto the floor.
Ruefully she rubbed the back of her
head. She knelt beside the drawer
and eagerly examined its contents.
There were several photographs of a
pretty girl. One showed her in boui-
fant tulle on the back of a horse.
ean’s eyes dilated.
“Circus rider!” she crooned. “Goody,
I'l] see one like her tomorrow.” She
turned the photograph over. On the
back was scrawled:
“Miraculous escape. From calico
and Calloway to liberty and lo—
Fondly, Milly.”
A “She's a cutey all right. [—” Jean
gulped as a shadow fell across the
~ photograph.
“Where's your uncle?”
The photograph fell from her hand
and lay with piquant, smiling face up-
ward as Jean stared at the scowling
man who loomed over her. :
“]_J—don’t know. Shall I try to
find him, Mr. Calloway?” >
Len Calloway removed his glance
from ‘the pictures and letters on the
floor long enough to glare at her.
“Tell him I want to talk with him.
Scram!”
Frightened at the grayness of his
face, Jean fled. She scurried through
the different rooms. Called. No an-
‘swer. She had better go back and tell
Mr. Calloway.
As she entered the gun room, one of
the long French windows banged.
~ “He's gone. [I guess that's that.”
She dropped to her knees beside the
rawer. Better put it back before
anyone saw it. She scrambled up the
contents. Where was the plcture of
the cutey circus rider? Gone. Had
Mr. Calloway taken it? Why should
‘he want it? Would her uncle be mad
‘with her for having touched the desk?
“I'd better get a move on.”
; She hurriedly replaced the drawer,
> picked up the letters. Only two!
‘There kad been three when they fell.
‘Had Mr. Calloway snitched one? What
ould he do with it? “Gee, have I
started something?” she thought.
In the library after dinner, Rodney
Gerard glanced at Jean speculatively
as she bent demurely over a book. Her
absorption was out of character. She
was too quiet. She had been prying
with rather frightening results; he
recognized the symptoms.
~ He glanced about the room as he
refilled his pipe. Good room. Big,
yet not too full of things, mellow,
dignified. Not too bad a place in
which t5 spend part of a winter. He
glanced at his sister-in-law knitting
? ~ rapidly in the light of one of the softly
~ shaded lamps. Not so restful. He was
in for battle. He'd better go to it.
Mrs. Walter Gerard looked up. She
‘laid down her knitting.
. “I have planned to close the house
on Thursday, if that suits you, Rod-
~ ney. The days are getting so short.”
~ “You needn’t bother to do that,
~ Annie. I shall remain here for part
of the winter. I have decided to thin
about a thousand acres of woodland
and it will require my personal over-
i sight. You and Jean toddle along to
New York as you planned.”
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CLEAR:
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but she dis-|
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~have a tough time.
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{ SERVICE
~
“The idea! Of course 1 shan’t de-
sert you, Rodney. I can stay, at least
until after Christmas; then my cousin,
the ambassador, hag asked me to visit
him.”
Gerard buckled on his armor of de-
termination. He hated to hurt her, but
he couldn't, he wouldn't have her un-
der his feet, and that’s where she
would be.
“I appreciate your kindness, Annie,
but Jim Armstrong, one of my rooms-
mates at college, who is a forester, will
_ arrive soon to look over the timber and
advise me as to what should come out.
I hate like the dickens to say it, you
have been so. kind to keep house for
me this summer, but I would prefer
not to have you here.” z
- Jean flung herself at Gerard.
“Hey there, Kurious Kid, go slow.
Want to push me into the fire?” The
girl’s grip tightened.
“Uncle Rod; please let me stay with
you, please! I'm not going to school
this winter anyway. I hate New York,
and Mother and Father are always
fighting, and I love to be with you,
and I'll be a perfect lady, honest I will,
Please let me stay. I'm—I'm always
sort of peaceful with you.”
Gerard’s . eyes were tender as he
looked down at the pleading face.
Peaceful. Poor, lonely kid. She did
Not much fun liv-
ing with her parents. Walter rarely
came to High Ledges now. Was it too
dull for him, or were there other rea-
“sons? Should he let Jean stay? He
was fond of the funny little thing. Prue
Schuyler was taking an interest in
her; she was making her happier, more
human than the impish child she had
been. :
“What say, Annie? Will you let
Jean stay with me until after Christ-
mas? No,” he anticipated, as his sis-
ter-in-law started to speak, “it will
upset my plans to have you here; be-
sides, you should be in New York with
Walter.”
“Walter doesn’t want me, either.”
For the first time since he had
known her, Rodney heard Annie Gerard
acknowledge defeat. Mighty hard on
her. Walter was a bad egg, of course,
but she had a cruel tongue and was so
affected. That didn’t excuse Walt; a
man should be true to his wife no mat-
ter how she developed—but—the gods
be praised, the problem of being true
to Annie wasn't his.
“Look here, K. K,, if I let you stay,
will you solemnly promise not to pry
into my affairs or—or the affairs of
the—the neighbors?”
Joy glowed beneath the tears. “I
promise I'll be the finest girl ever, Un-
cle Rod.”
“I'll give you a try.
Annie?”
“If you want her, Rodney. The doc-
tor said she should live out of doors
this winter, so perhaps she’ll be better
off here in the country.”
“Then hustle to New York, send
down warm clothes for her and the bill
to me. Take the servants with you.
I'll pay them for lost time. Jean and I
will be off early, perhaps before you
start.”
“Off! Where?”
~ “There’s a circus in the next town
and we—we are going in a party.”
“A party! I see. I think I know
who the party will be. I wasn’t born
yesterday, Rodney.”
How he detested her wink, Rodney
thought, as he watched her leave the
room. Jean slipped her arm through
her uncle's.
“She's mad!”
strident whisper.
“Cut that out, K. K. Never criticise
your mother. You make good or you'll
be packed off to New York on the first
train. Get me?”
“I will, Uncle Rod. Cross-my-throat-
an’-hope-to-die. What time will we
start for the circus? I'll be ready. I
won't go to sleep for a minute to-
night.”
“Ill bet you won't. I'm not so old
that I've forgotten -the nights before
your father and I went to the circus.
Go to bed. Get going.”
He watched her as she ran to the
door.
“You sure have taken on responsi-
bility,” he reminded himself.
The next morning Rodney, with Jean
snuggled in the roadster beside him,
stopped before the red brick house.
Prudence was waiting at the gate; her
vivid lips were curved in a radiant
smile.
“Good morning, Jean. I'm thrilled!
‘My heart is so light it’s bouncing along
on balloon tires. Will there be room
for me on the front seat, Mr. Gerard?”
“Cut out that ‘Mr.’—Gorgeous. It
doesn’t click with a circus. Rod—to
you. Of course there's room in front.
Hop in.”
May she stay,
she observed in a
Jean bounced in her seat. “Hurry
ap, Miss Prue. Let’s go, Uncle Rod.”
The main street of the town was
already lined with crowds when they
reached it; it boiled with children,
echoed with the cries of fakirs, blazed
,
-rying crowd.
with mammoth black and red posters.
Gerard parked the roadster on a side
street. Jean's feet barely vouched the
ground as between Prudence and her
uncle she was swept along in the hur-
She stopped short in
front of a poster showing an eques-
trienne in rose-color tulle skirts and a
brief bodice, with the caption:
MADEMOISELLE MILLER
“Why, there’s my cutey—"
Gerard looked at her sharply as she
bit off the next word.
“What do you mean, K. K.? You—"
“Buy the kid a balloon! Buy the
kid a balloon! Say, listen! What's a
circus to a kid without a balloon?”
The hatless man with an unkempt
mane of black hair and a flock of col-
ored balloons straining at their leashes,
blocked the way. Jean’s eyes were like
dancing stars. :
“May I have one, Uncle Rod?”
“Sure. Choose the color. Have one,
Prue?” 3
“Of course. 1 want that fat green
one which looks as if it were about to
burst from its own importance.”
What fun she was! How friendly
she had been on the drive over. Had
she buried the hatchet she seemed al-
ways to have up her sleeve for him?
She was so alive mentally and physical
ly. Life never could get one by the
| throat if one had a girl like her with
whom to travel through the years, |
Rodney thought.
“It's coming! The parade’s com-
ing!” Prudence gripped Gerard's arm,
“Hear that bugle, Jean?”
~ Rodney pushed Jean in front of him.
Crushed his arm against his side to
keep Prue’s hand there. Far down the
street was a restless sea of waving
plumes, shining helmets, brilliant flags.
Music billowed forward. Snares.
Drums. Cornets. Clarinets. He said
to Prudence:
“The thrill of the Big Top. It’s got
me,
crowd.”
The girl’s brilliant eyes met his.
“It’s got me, too. I'm shaking with
excitement. Here they eome! I won-
der if we’ll see Chicot.”
Music nearer now. A band in bril-
liant red coats, tall shakos on their
heads, passed playing, “Stars and
Stripes Forever.” Countless feet tap-
ping the rhythm. Countless throats
humming the tune.
Everywhere the glitter of rhine-
stones among sequins. Everyone gay.
Hold
“El.e-phants Are Coming!
Your Horses!”
Everyone smiling, The parade was
hitting on all cylinders.
“El-e-phants are coming! Hold your
horses!”
An enormous elephant led the herd,
the scarlet coated man on his head
seemed like a midget, the keepers
strutting at his side mere pigmies.
Gerard felt Jean's fingers tighten
in his, heard her quick breath of relief
a8 the unwieldy beast passed. Pru-
.dence caught her free hand and smiled.
Had she sensed the child's fear?
A monkey-faced clown commenced
to beat up a gigantic police-clown.
Jean wailed:
“Chicot isn’t there. He said he'd
wink at me.” Her eyes were deep
wells of disappointment. Gerard
squeezed the thin fingers sympa-
thetically.
“Take it easy, K. K. He'll come.
There he is now! See him? See
him?’ He caught her under the arms
and lifted her for an instant. ‘‘He’s
on that funny little bicycle. See him?”
She nodded excited assent. He set
her on her feet. “See how the big fat-
faced clown on the motorcycle behind
him keeps butting into his hind wheel?
Chicot has a balloon. A red balloon
like yours, K. K. He'll see you in a
minute.”
Prudence laughed up at him. ‘Chi-
cot must have a magic charm for at-
tracting hearts. Jean is positively
tearful over him, and I warmed to him
at once.”
“If he has touched your shellacked
heart, I'll offer him a fortune for his—"
“You are missing the comedy,” Prue
reminded crisply.
Ag Chicot came abreast of Jean, his
balloon popped. With heart-rending
sobs he shook the bit of rubber toward
the girl.
“Well of all people! If here isn’t
the new lumber firm of Schuyler and
Gerard eating popcorn and watching
the el’phants!”
Calloway's taunting volce at his
ghoulder sent the blood in Rodney
Gerard’s body rushing to his ears In
blinding, black anger. His furious
eyes met the mocking eyes on a level
with his.
“Shut up, Calloway! You—"
“Take mine, Chicot! Take mine!”
Jean's excited voice cut into her un-
cle’s, She darted forward. Rodney
grabbed Tor her.
I'm as excited as any kid in the |
iissed. The motor-
cycle clown, looking back in a parting
wisecrack, shot forward at full speed.
The crowd shrieked. Chicot caught
the girl. Flung her back with all his
force. The panic-stricken cyclist
crashed into him.
Aeons after, it seemed to Rodney
Gerard, the physician, bending over
Jean’s limp figure on the black hair-
cloth sofa in a nearby house, straight-
ened.
“She’s coming out of it all right.
Prolonged faint from shock. Better
get her home as soon as she can sit
up.”
Prudence whispered:
“Don’t look so agonized, Rodney.
See, her eyelids are quivering.”
“I’m all shot to pieces over this. I—
I didn’t know how much I cared for the
Kurious—"” Gerard choked on the
words.
Across the room on the floor where
they had dropped him lay the clown.
Rodney Gerard bent over the twisted
body, laid his hand on the dirt-
streaked shoulder.
“You, saved her, Chicot. Can you
hear? 'You—"
“Let me in!
Let me in!”
A girl, in the cotton velvets and
plumed hat of a circus rider on parade,
burst into the room. Patches of rouge
stood out like fever spots on her color-
less face. Her black eyes were dis-
tended with fright. With a shriek
she flung herself to her knees beside
Chicot, put her arms under the old
clown’s shoulders, and lifted him until
his head rested against her breast.
A spasm of pain contorted the
grotesque face. The lids under their
painted brows opened. He tried to
put his hand over hers. It wavered
futilely and dropped. His whisper
seemed to fill the still room.
“Be a good—girl, Milly. You’ll be a
—great—rider—if you keep at it. I've
Tift ij
Where’s Grandpop?
Milly.”
“Be a Good—Girl,
kept you—with me—you're safer—
now. I—must—get up. Time—for—
my act—"
The last faint word fluttered in a
sigh. Chalky lids drooped over dull
eyes. The crumpled figure settled
lower in the girl’s arms.
“Grandpop! Grandpop! Don’t leave
me! I can’t bear it to have you hurt!
First I hurt you and now—"
The physician gently loosened the
girl’s arms and eased the body of the
old clown to the. floor. Rodney Gerard
laid his hand on her shoulder.
“Nothing can hurt him again, Milly.
You—"
“So, I've run Milly Gooch to earth
at last! Mademoiselle Millee! And
with you, Gerard! She would be!”
With a smothered imprecation, Rod-
ney wheeled to face Len Calloway who
leaned against the side of the door.
With difficulty he kept his voice low.
“Don’t you see what has happened?
If you can’t keep your dirty mouth
shut, get out.”
The sound Calloway made was more
a snarl than a laugh, though an ex-
pression of sardonic mirth doubtless
had been his intention.
“I'm going.” .
He turned to Prudence who, white
and still, knelt beside the couch on
which Jean was stirring restlessly.
“Any ten-year-old child would get
wise to what's been going on ‘between
those two, Miss Schuyler.”
Rodney Gerard shut his teeth hard
into his lip. Prue could deduce any-
thing from Calloway’s voice and im-
plication. What would she think?
Milly Gooch caught his hand and
with a choking sob laid her cheek
against it.
“What shall I do, Roddy? Grand-
pop’s gone and I have only you now.”
Half of her appeal to him was gen-
uine grief, half was staged to irritate
Len Calloway who was glaring at her
from the threshold, Gerard decided.
With a suggestive laugh Calloway
departed. The physician touched Ger-
ard’s shoulder. :
“You’d better get that youngster
home—quick.”
“1 will.”
Rodney bent over the girl crouched
beside the crumpled body of the
He freed the hand she still
clutched. “I'll see you tonight, Milly.
Pull yourself together.” He laid his
hand on the bowed head before he
turned away. =
“Come, Jean. I'll carry you, dear.”
The town behind them, Gerard sent
the roadster forward along the smooth
road between its gay borders of fall
shrubs. Once he looked at Prudence.
She had her face against Jean's hair;
the child’s long lashes lay like fringes
clown.
on her pale cheeks. He said gruffly.
“What a mix-up! A fown burns up.
A circus is thrown off schedule. A
clown sent scouting. He took a chance
on your garden—he’d try anything
once—and then—a man who hates me
lays his hand on my shoulder—and
this for Jean—and tragedy for Chicot.
Chicot’s daughter, her husband, and
child lived in the red brick house
when Milly Gooch was a little girl. He
visited them. That was what he meant
yesterday when he said that he had
lived in this region.”
“I suspected you had seen him be-
fore.”
“And because of what Len Calloway
implied, you have me tried and sen-
tenced, I'll bet.”
She did not answer, only pressed her
cheek closer against Jean’s hair. He
kept both hands tight on the wheel.
Why had he let her invade his life?
Why had he allowed her to make him
madly happy or so infernally miser-
able by a look? Rapture and agony.
He knew what the words meant now.
“I'll drop you at your gate” he pro-
posed curtly.
“No. I will go on to High Ledges.
I won't leave Jean until I see her
with her mother,”
Jean opened her eyes and lifted her
head from Prudence’s shoulder.
“I'm not going home until Mother
has gone. There's nothing the matter
with me except that I feel kind of
dizzy; it helps steady things to keep
my eyes closed. You won't mind if I
stay with Miss Prue for a while, will
you, Uncle Rod?”
“You should be with your mother,
dear.”
“I’m not going to be with my ‘mother,
so that’s that.”
“Getting back to normal fast, aren't
you, K. "EK.
“Course I am, Uncle Rod. Let
me stay with Miss Prue today, that's a
peach. [Ill wait on Mr, David. I love
him.”
She began to cry.
“Let her stop with me,” Prudence
pleaded.
“No. She's going back to High
Ledges and I hope I land her there
before her mother gets away. I had
persuaded her to leave Jean with me;
it is only fair that she should know
what happened, what a flop I am as
a guardian.”
Except for an occasional query as to
Jean’s comfort, Gerard said nothing
more during the long ride home.
They reached the red brick house.
Gerard looked down at Jean.
“Pull yourself together, K. K. If
you and I are to be on our own, we've
got to go forward like soldiers, not
whimper when we have to do things
we don't like. Get me?”
Jean straightened, wiped her eyes,
gave him a watery smile.
“Sure I get you, Uncle Rod. I feel
fine now, really I do.” She slipped a
hand under his arm. “Perhaps, per-
haps Mother has gone already,” she
whispered hopefully.
In his mind Gerard echoed the hope
as they approached the house of Stone
and oak which his grandfather had
built. He stopped the roadster at the
front steps.
Judkins appeared as if by magic.
Gerard spramrg from the car, lifted
Jean out.
“Where's Mrs, Walter, Judkins?”
“She went soon after you left, sir.
She decided to motor to the city.”
“Ask your sister to take a look at
Miss Jean, will you? I want to
phone.”
“Yes, sir. Mr. Armstrong arrived
soon after you left.”
“Armstrong! So soon! Where is
he?”
“He went for a walk. Mrs. Walter
was just going, and things were in
kind of a stir, so he—"” He coughed
discreetly behind his hand.
“So he stepped out. I get you. Go
up and lie down, Jean, and if you are
good and feel fine, you may dine with us.
You'll like Jim Armstrong, K. K,, he’s
a great old boy.”
“] won’t move from the couch all
day, if only I may have dinner with
you just as if I were grown up, Uncle
Rod. Do you suppose Mr. Jim will
like me? I wonder—I wonder if he
will fall in love with Miss Prue—too.”
Gerard felt his face warm with
color.
“That last wisecrack has shown
me that you are back to normal, K. K.,
quite back to normal. Now listen, one
more like that and you'll spend the
winter in the bosom of your family—
in New York city.”
After dinner Jean sat on a low stool
beside the fire. Elbow on her knee,
chin in one hand, her eyes were on
Jim Armstrong, spectacled, sinewy,
with an out-of-door bigness.
“It’s corking to have you here, Jim.
You haven't changed, unless you've
grown heavier,” Gerard commented.
“It’s grand to be here, Rod. I won't
say that you haven’t changed in the
last two years though. Where's that
lazy drawl which drew the female of
the species after you in squads?”
“T chucked that when I decided to
become a lumber king. I'm in business
now, as I wrote you. At least I'm mak-
ing a stab at it. At present I've struck
a snag. There's a guy here named
Len Calloway, also in the lumber busi-
ness, who threatens to boycott any
man who works for me.”
“What has stirred this Calloway
up?”
“I beat him to it in persuading Miss
Schuyler to engage me to cut the tim-
ber in a tract she owns.”
“Who is Miss Schuyler? She doesn’t
belong by any chance to that family—"
Gerard glanced at Jean whose ears
were fairly standing out In eagerness
to hear.
“She is a sister of David Schuyler.
Know him? He was a New York law-
yer.”
“I've heard of him. Poor—"
“Miss Schuyler inherited a tract of
woodland, along with a house and
other land. She came here to farm—
ner Brother's heaith nad nrouen; down,
Immediately the aforementioned Cal-
loway—"
Rod?” %
“It isn’t a chuckling matter, Jim,
Si Puffer, who worked for the new
owner’s uncle and is a sort of handy
man for her, told her not to let Len
cut for her. I decided that I would
cut for her and myself—that’s when I
sent for you. Calloway was furious
as—well, we've had trouble over ane
other matter.”
“Is Miss Schuyler—young?”’ Arms
strong quizzed, as he lighted his pipe.
“Yes, and so pretty,” Jean chirped
eagerly. “Mother Puffer says that her
eyes are like brown pansies and that
her voice would coax the birds off
the bushes.
are all gold spangles.”
MK. K,, you've been so quiet I had
forgotten you were here, It’s time you
went upstairs. Toddle along now like
a good girl”
“All righty, Uncle Rod.” She kissed
him, and with a little curtsy said good
night to Armstrong. The two men
rose and waited until she had left the
room. Then the forester dropped a
question.
‘Has this man Calloway by any
chance a sentimental interest in your
neighbor?”
‘‘He’d better not have.”
“Why the growl?” :
Rodney Gerard rose impetuously and
stood back to the fire. “Here are my
cards face up on the table. I'm mad
about Prudence Schuyler. I will marry
it. Get that straight?” :
“I'll say I get it straight. I can
read a ‘No Trespassing’ sign when I
see one, belleve me. Does the lady
with the spangled eyes realize that she
is posted, Rod?” :
“It’s no joke to me, Jim. I guess
_the old song’s right, ‘Love has a mean-
ing all its own’—to different people.
Mine is ‘the one-woman brand. The
first time I met Prue—I can't explain
it to you, you will think I've gone
goofy—1I felt as if—as if the universe
had been made over and I was re-
born—with an ambition to grab the
world by the tail and a determination
to make the girl love me.”
“Raring to go off the deep end, aren’t
you? Um. Pretty serious jam you’re in,
Roddy.”
“It darn well is.”
Armstrong laid his hand on Gerird’s
shoulder. His eyes were warm with.
atfection., .
“Buck up! I don’t know how any
girl could resist you.
get what you want.
muttons.
lumber?”
“Not a contract. I have been so,
what Si Puffer calls het up, with this
fight = with Calloway that I hadn’t
thought where I would dispose of it.”
“You'd better get busy on that end.
I'll give you a list of going concerns;
then you'd better hustle after business,
Do we start our investigation of the
timber traets tomorrow?”
“Yes.” Gerard glanced at the clock.
“You'll excuse me, Jim, if I break
away? Something important I've got
to take care of tonight. Si Puffer is
engaging men to go along with us to-
morrow to cut.” .
Puffer appeared in the doorway.
“Here he is now! Come in, Si. This
is my old friend Jim Armstrong who
has come to tell us what trees to take
out.”
“Pleased to make your acquaintance,
Jim. Gorry-me, Rod, I'm plumb dis-
couraged. Don’t know’s we're goin’ to
need a forester.”
“Why not? What has happened?”
“Now don’t fly off the handle like
that just because I hint we're in for
trouble. Whatta mean is, I've been all
over the village tryin’ to hire men to
cut for us tomorrow. They all had
some fool excuse. I cornered one of
‘em an’ jest squeezed it out of him
that Len Calloway had let it be known
that none of them would get more
work from him—ever—if they hired
out to you. He's got 'em scared. He
pointed out that you might start out
big, Rod, but you wouldn't stick; that
this was just a fad of yours, an’ where
would they be when you quit?”
“I! Quit!” Gerard’s blue eyes were
black, “Go back and tell those men
that there isn’t room in this town for
Len Calloway and me and that I am
staying.”
(Continued Next Week.)
You generally
To return to our
Contracts made to sell your
“Hate him pretty much, don’t you,
When she laughs her eyes
her if I have to move the world to do.
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