0 o O-
The Honor
PROLOG UE.
Up in the "Big Snowa," near
the dome of the earth, lies the
scene of this story of real men
and real women, who have all of
the virtue. of iheir hnrdenino en.
vironmentand few of the failings
of their more civilised relatives.
This is a tale for reading when
one is tired of the artificialities
of civilisation or at any other
time when a good story is appro
dated. You will find in it ro-
manceand adventure and mystery
mixed in such skillful manner and
in such proportion that no ingre
dient interferes with another. Yet
all go, to make fine reading for
women who like to hear of brave
deeds and sacrifice for love's
sake and for men with even a
drop of the spirit of adventure
in their veins. And one thing
more the author has lived among
the people whose lives he de
scribes, and he knows how to tell
a story. :
CHAPTER XV.
Jan's Story.
M
SIEUU," began Jan in the
low voice which Thornton
was beginning to under
stand, "I am going to tell
you something which I have told to
but two other human beings. It is
the Btory of another man a man from
civilization, like you, who came up
Into this country of ours years and
fears ago and who met a woman, as
you have met this 'girl at Oxford
Ilouse, and who loved her as you love
this one and perhaps more. It Is sin
gular that the case should be so simi
lar, m'sleur, and it is because of this
that I believe our Blessed Lady gives
me courage to tell it to you, for this
man, like you, left a wife and two
children when he came into the north.
M'Blcur, I pray the great God to for
give him, for he left a third child
imborn."
Jun leaned upon his hand so that It
shaded his face.
"It is not so much of that as of
what followed that I am going to tell
yen, m'sieur," he went on. "It was a
beautiful love on tho woman's part,
and It would have been a beautiful
loo on the man's part if it had been
pure. For her he gave up everything,
even his God, as you would give up
everything and your God for this girl
at Oxford Ilouse. M'sieur, I will
speak mostly of the woman now. She
.was beautiful. She was one of the
three most beautiful things that God
ever placed in our world, and she
loved this man. She married him, be
lieved in him. was ready to die for
him. to follow him to tho ends of the
earth, as our women will do for the
men they love. God in heaven! Can
yon not guess what happened, m'sieur?
A diild was born!"
So fiercely did Jan cry out the
words that Thornton jerked back as
though a blow had been struck nt him
Irom out of the gloom.
"A child was born," repeated Jan.
and Thornton heard his nails digglug
in the table. "That was tho first
cur.se of God a child! Carrion, beasts
of carrion, that is what we call thein
beasts of carrion and carrion eaters,
breeders of devils and sin! My God!
That Is what happened. A child was
born with the curse of God upon him!"
Jan stopped, his nails digging deep
er, his breath escaping from him ns
though he had been running.
"Down In your world he would have
prowu up a man," he continued, speak,
ing more calmly. "I have heard that
tiece. Hut here It is different The
curse never dies. It follows, day after
day, year after year. And this child,
more unfortunate thau the wild things,
was born one of them. If tho winds
liad whispered the secret nothing
would have come near him. The In
dian women would sooner have touch
ed the plague. He would have been
an outcast, despised as he grew older,
pointed at and taunted, called names
wtiich are worse than those called to
the lowest nnd meanest dogs. That Is
what it means to be bom under thai
ctrse up here."
Ho waited for Thorntou tosieak, but
the other sat silent and moveless across
the table.
"The curse worked swiftly, m'sieur.
It came first in remorse to the man.
It gnawed at his soul, ate him alive
and drove him from place to place
with the woman and tho child. The
rurlty and love of the woman added to
Lis suffering, uud at last he came to
know that the hand of God had fallen
upon his head. Tho woman saw his
grief, but did not know the rensou for
it And so the curse first came to her.
They went northfar north, above the
Knrren Lands, nnd the curse followed
there. It gnawed nt his life until he
died. That was seven years after the
ddld was born."
Ttio oil lam) sputtered and began to
wnoVe, and with a quick movement
Jan turned the wick down until they
wore left In darkness.
"M'sieur, It was then that tho curse
l:i;!iu to fall .upon .thewotnan nnd the
I of thei-
Copurlabt 1911. bu the Bobbs
Merrill Co.
r
child. l)o ou,1iot""belleveT.hat ifbOtTt
the sins of the fathers falling upon
others? It Is so. It Is so. It came in
many small ways, and then the curse
It came suddenly like this." Jan's
voice came in n hissing whisper now.
Thornton could feel his hot breath as
he leaned over the table, and in the
darkness Jan's eyes shone liko two
coals of lire. "It came like this!" pant
ed Jan. "There was a new mlssloner
at the post a a Christian from the
south, and he was a great friend to the
woman and preached God, and she be
lieved him. The boy was very young
nnd saw things, but did not under
stand at first. He knew afterward
that the mlssioner loved his mother's
beauty and that he tried hard to win
it and failed, for the woman until
death would love only the one to whom
she had given herself first. Great God,
It happened then one night when
every soul was about the big fires at
the caribou roast and there was no one
near the lonely little cabin where the
boy and his mother lived. The boy
was nt the feast, but he ran home with
a bit of dripping meat as gift for his
mother, and be heard her cries nnd ran
in, to be stnvk down by the mlssloner.
It happened then, and even the boy
knew and followed the man, shrieking
that he had killed his mother." There
was a terrible cnlinness now in Jan's
voice. ".M'sieur, il was true. She
wasted away like a flower after that
night. She died and left the boy alone
with the curse. And that boy, m'sieur.
was Jau Thorenu. The woman was
his mother."
There was silence now, a dead, pulse
less quiet, broken after a moment by
a movement. It was Thornton, grop
ing across the table. Jan felt his hands
touch his arm. They groped farther in
the darkness, until Jau Thoreau's hands
were clasped tightly in Thornton's.
"And that Is all?" he questioned
hoarsely.
"No. it Is but the beginning." said
Jan softly. "The curse has followed
nie. m'sieur, until I am the unhapplest
man in the world. Today I have done
all that is to be done. When my fa
ther died he left papers Miiich mv
mother was to give to me when I had
attained manhood. When she died
they came to me. She knew nothing
of that which was In them, and I am
glad, for they told the story that I
have told to you. m'sieur, and from
Ills grave my father prayed to me t
make what restitution I could. When
he came into the north for good he
brought with him most of bis fortune,
which was large, m'sieur, and placed
It where no one would ever find It In
the stock of the great company. A
half of It. he said, should be mine.
The other half ho asked me to return
to his children and to his real wife If
slit were living. I have done more
than that, m'sieur. I have given up
all, for none of It is mine. A half will
go to tho two children whom he de
serted. The other half will go to the
child that was unborn. The mother
Is-dead."
After a time Thornton said:
"There Is more, Jan?"
"Yes. there Is more, m'sieur," said
Jan. "So much more that if I were
I to tell it to you it would not be hard
for you to understand why Jan Tho
renu Is the unhapplest man In the
world. I have told you thnt tills Is but
the beginning. I have not told you of
how the curse has followed me and
robbed ine of all that Is greatest in
life how It has haunted me day and
Hlght. m'sieur, like a black spirit, de
stroying my hopes, turning me at last
into an outcast, without people, with
out friends, without thai which you.
too. will give up In this girl at Oxford
House. M'sieur, am I right? You will
not go back to her. Yon will go south
and some day the great God will re
ward you."
lie heard Thornton rising In the
dark.
"Shall I strike a light, m'sieur?"
"No." said Thornton close to him. In
the gloom tlieir hands met. There was
a chance In the other's voice now.
something of n pride, of triumph, of
n !ory . ju"t achieved. ."Jaiu" he said
Big Snows
AMtoir if 65Tte
w TraF
sofllyr T'TriaTif you for bunging uio
face to fact' with a God like yours.
You have taught me more thau has
ever been preached into me. nnd this
great, glorious world of yours is send
ing me back a better uiau for having
come into It I am golug--south Soma
day 1 will return, and I will hp one of
this world and one of your ieople. I
will come, and I will bring no curse,
If I could send this word to her, ask
her forgiveuess, tell her what I have
almost beeu and that I still have hope
faith I could go easier down iuto
that other world."
"You can," said Jan. "I will take
this word for you, m'sieur, and I will
take more, for I will tell her what U
has been the kind fate for Jan Tho
renu to find In the heart of M'sieur
Thornton. She Is one of my people,
and she will forgive, and love you more
for what you have done. For this,
m'sieur, is what the Cree god has glv
en to his people as the honor of the
great snows. She will still love you,
and if there is to be hope it will burn
In her breast too. M'sieur"
Something like a sob broke through
Thornton's lips ns he moved back
through the darkness.
"And you I will find you again?"
"They will know where I go from
Oxford Ilouse. I will leave word
with her," said Jan.
'Good by," said Thornton huskily.
Jan listened nutll his footsteps had
died away, and for a long time after
that he sat with his bead buried In his
arms uiou the little table. And Ka
zan, whining softly, seemed to know
that in the darkened room had come
to pass the thing which broke at last
his muster's overburdened heart.
That night Jan Thoreau passed for
the last time back iuto the shelter of
his forests, and all that night he trav
eled, and with each mile that he left
behind him something larger and bold
er grew In bis breast until he cracked
his whip in thu old way and shouted to
the dogs in the old way. and the blood
in him sang to the wild spirit of the
wilderness. Once more he was home.
To him the forest had always been
home.
And from above him the stars look
ed down like a billion tiny (ires kin
dled by loving hands to light his way
the stars that had given him music,
peace, since he, could remember ami
thnt had taught him more of the silent
power of God than the lips of man
could ever tell. From this time forth
Jan Thorenn know that these things
would be his life, his god. He had
loved the forest now he worshiped
it. In Its vast silence he still possess
ed Melisse.
Nearly n month passed before he
reached Oxford House nnd found the
sweet faced gl:i whom Thornton lov
ed. He did as Thornton had asked and
went on into the north ami east. He
had no mission now except to roam In
his forests. He went down the Hayes,
getting his few supplies nt Indian
camps and stopped at last, with the
beginning of spring, far up on the Cut -
away. Here he built himself a camp
nnd lived for n time, setting (lend falls
for benr. Then he struck north ngaln
nnd still east, keeping always away
from Lao ltitln. When the first chill
winds of the bay brought warning of
winter down to him he was filled for
a time with n longing to strike north
J nnd west, to go once more back to his
Ihirren Lands. Hut, instead, he went
south, and so It came to pass that n
year after he had left Lae Rain he
built himself a cabin deep In the for
est of God's river, fifty miles from Ox
ford House, nnd trapped once more
for the company. lie had not forgot
ten his promise to Thornton, nnd nt
Oxford House left word where he could
be found if the man from civilization
should return.
In late midwinter Jan returned to
Oxford House with his furs. It wus
on the night of the day thnt ho came
into the post thnt he heard a French
man who had come down from the
north speak of Lac Ruin. None no
ticed the chnnge In Jan's face as he
hung back In the shadows of the com
pany's store. A little later he follow
ed the Frenchman outside nnd stopped
him where there were no others near
to overhenr.
"M'sieur, you spoke of Lac Bain,"
ho said in French. "You have lieen
there?"
"Yes," replied the other, "I was
there for a week waiting for the first
sledge snow."
"It Is my old home," said Jan, trying
to keep his voice natural. "I have
wondered If there nre changes. You
saw Cummins, the factor?"
"Yes, he was there."
"And and Jean de Gravols, the
chief man?"
"He was away."
"The factor had a daughter, Melisse"-
"She left Lac P.ain a long time ago,
m'sieur," said the trapper. "M'sieur
Cummins told me thnt he had not seen
her In n long lime. I believo It was
almost a year."
Jan went to the company's store,
lie took his pack to the sledge anil
dogs in the edge of the spruce, and
Kazan leaped to greet him nt the end
of his bablche. That night as Jan
traveled through the forest he did not
notice the stars or the friendly shadows
"A year." he repeated to himself
again and again, and once when Ka
mi! ruMed iiguinst his leg and looked
up into Ms face he said: "Ah. lfazan.
our Melisse went away with the Kng
'.ishnian. May the great !d give
them happiness:"
The forest claimed him more than
ever after this. Ho did not go back
to Oxford House in the spring, but
6ld his furs to a passing halfbreed
and wandered through nil of that
spring and summer In the country to
the west. It was January when he
returned to his cabin, when the snows
were deepest, and three days later he
set out to otiilit at the Hudson's bay
post on God's lake instead of at Ox
ford "louse. It was while they were
crossing a part of the lake that Kazan
leaped aside for an instant in his
iraces ana "M" wwciihub
the snow
Jan saw the movement, but gave n
attention to It until a little later when
Kazan stopped and fell upon his belly,
biting at tho hnruess and whining in
pain. The thought of Kazan's sudden
snap at the snow came to him then
like a knife thrust, nnd with a low cry
of horror and fear ho fell upon his
knees beside the dog. Kazan whim
pered, and his bushy tall swept the
snow ns Jun lifted his grent wolfish
head between his two hands. No other
sound came from Jan's lips now, and
slowly he drew the dog up to hlra until
he held him in his arms as he might
have held a child. Kazan stilled the
whimpering sounds in his throat His
one eye rested on his muster's fnce,
faithful, watching for some sign, for
some language there, even as tho burn
ing fires of a strange torture gnawed
at his life, and In that eye Jun saw the
deepening reddish film which ho had
seen a hundred times before In the eyes
of foxes and wolves killed by poison
bait.
A moan of anguish burst from Jan's
lips, uud he held his fuce close down
against Kazan's head aud sobbed now
like a child, while Kazan rubbed his
hot muzzle against his cheek nnd his
muscles hardened iu a last desire to
give battle to whatever was giving his
master grief. It was a long time be
fore Jau lifted his face from the shag
gy head, and when he did ho knew
that the last of all love, of all compan
ionship, of all that bound him to flesh
and blood In his lonely world, was
gone. Kazan was dead.
From the sledge be took a 'blanket
and wrapped Kazan iu it nud carried
him a hundred yards back from the
trail. With bowed head he came be
hind his four dogs Into (Sod's House.
Half an hour later he turned back into
the wilderness with his supplies. It
was dark when he returned to where
he had left Kazan. He placed him
upon the sledge, and the four huskies
whined as they dragged on their hur
den,froiu which the smell of death
en me to them. They stopped in the
deep forests beyond the lake, nnd Jan
built a fire.
This night, as on all nights iu his
lonely life, Jau drew Kazan close to
him, ainl he shivered ns the other dogs
slunk back from him suspiciously and
the lire and the spruce tops broke the
stillness of the forest. lie looked nt
the crackling tlames. at the fitful shad
ows which they set dancing and grimac
ing about him, nnd it seemed to him
now that they were no longer friends,
but were taunting him gloating In Ka
zan's death and telling him that he
was alone, nlnne. alone. He let the
fire die down, stirring it Into life only
1 when tho cold stiffened him, and when
at Inst he fell into an unquiet slumber
it was still to hear the spruce tops
whispering to him that Kazan was
dead and that in dying ho hnd broken
the last fragile link between Jan Tho
renu and Melisse.
('I'u Hu Continued.)
Farm fop Sale.
I.'iij-acrc farm, four miles from
town, between 50 and CO acres
under plow, 7 acres hay land, bal-
ance pasture. Running water,
Seven-room house and other im- : in wood are requested to bring it.
provements. j in before the roads get bad, ns
Inquire al the office of Rawlsjwe desire to place it in the dry.
& Robertson. . 10-10-tf-wkly j Come in wilh it, boys, right away.
-Fine Line of Christmas Goods -
at Prices that cannot be duplicated by any large city store!
Chafing Dishes at $2.50 to $12.50
Baking Dishes at $1.50 to 6.00
Casserols of all kinds and sizes from 85c to 4.00
A better and more complete line of Carvers will not be - -
found in any city at $1.50 to lZ.oU
Rosters at $1.00 to.. 5.00
A full line of Aluminum Ware; a complete line of Granit Ware, and every
thing in our line to be found in an up-to-date city store.
You are invited to call and inspect my stock.
DUD
U D
I
JipTW'W(FffW)II
I
Sixth Annual
Handkerchief
Sale
Thursday, Friday, Saturday,
Dec. 19, 0, and 21
Our past sales have been so
successful that we want to
give you another opportun
ity to see every handker
chief we have in stock. They
will be arranged for your
convenience, every one will
be where you can see it.
They will be on sale, the lot
Thursday, Friday, Saturday,
Dec. 19, 20, and 21
10 Per Cent Discount
on Furs this Week
I
Attention, Farmers I
My I ! Farmer Have you your
own farm or are you renting? I
have land in Minnesota, cut over
timber, from $10 to $15 per acre.
One-third cash, balance at ti per
cent. I have good, smooth land
in Slovens county, Minnesota,
from to 67 per acre. This
land is soli direct from the own
er of the la ml. No land company
in this deal. I also handle tho
best land in eastern Oklahoma.
Corn runs from sixty to seventy
bushels lo I b acre. Now if you
want land try mo and spi I deal
wilh no agent. If you come with
an agent you must pay him your
self. Write or call,
Henry Huiiimels.
I S-.'l North 20th St.,
Lincoln, Neb.
Wood Wanted.
Those of our subscribers who
desire to pay their subscriptions
I HAVE A
USi U
BAUER'S OLD STAND C
8
n
UVJ
THE SECRET TERROR.
The haunting fear of sickness
and helplessness is the secret ter
ror of the working man. Health
is his capital. Kidney diseases
sap a man's strength and vitality.
They lessen his earning capacity.
Foley Kidney Pills bring back
health and strength by healing the
disease. They are the best medi
cine made for kidney and bladder
troubles. The genuine are in tho
yellow package. Refuse any sub
si ilute. For sale by F. (I. Fricko
& Co.
Funeral Is Delayed.
From Wednesday Dally.
The funeral of tin; late Wash
ington Delihay, which was lo
have occurred Monday, was post
poned until yesterday morning nt
10 o'clock, owing lo I he failure of
the casket to arrive from Omaha.
The funeral was largely attended
and occurred, from Hie homo and
the interment was made in the
Horning cemetery.
The most useful gifts iu the
world at Fastwood's.
