Harold Titus
W.M.il
^ sftavi ct.
SYNOPSIS
> Ben Elliott—from "Yonder”—
snakes his entry into the lumbering
town of Tincup. He has brought
•along an old man, Don Stuart, who
had been eager to reach Tincup. El
liott defeats Bull Duval, "king of
tbe river,” and town bully, in a log
blrling contest Nicholas Brandon,
•the town's leading citizen, resents
‘Stuart's presence, trying to force
him to leave town and Elliott, re
senting the act. knocks him down.
Elliott Is arrested.
CHAPTER II—Continued
—3-—
“Guilty as charged, eh?” Able
fumbled with the papers. “What
brought you such a long ways Info
Tincup, anyhow?”
“Because I’d heard Tincup was a
tough nut to crack.”
A stir In the crowd, then a sharp
(look from Brandon to Elliott.
“Oh. . . . Fond of nuts, are you?’’
Able asked and the look in his eyes
■was much less severe. “So you’d
heard about Tincup and started for
tt from a long ways off and . % .
Now this matter of nuts: You like
all kinds?”
“Not all nuts; no.” The steel
gray eyes were a bit narrowed,
mow, as Elliott tried to plumb the
old man's mood.
“Well, for instance: like pea
nuts?”
“No. Can’t stand 'em.”
“Not at all? Almonds, then?”
A twinkle was surely coming to
life In the court’s eyes but, seeing
'It, the defendant only frowned.
“Can’t vote very strong for al
SDonds.”
“Hnm-m. . . . How about black
■walnuts?”
“Now,” declared Elliott with a
«od, “now, you’re getting into real
elassy nuts!”
Men in the crowd looked at one
Another, not knowing what to make
At this.
"Well, if you like black walnuts,
would you say they were your fa
vorite?”
The other considered this ques
tion with great, if not wholly genu
ine, serlousnesr.
“No, not exactly. I’d put black
walnuts high up In the list, all
Tight, your honor, but since you’re
Interested about my preferences in
Tints, I’d say that the best nut that
•ever hung outdoors or offered Itself
for the cracking was a good old
hickory nut”
“Real tough ones, eh?”
"Real tough ones, yes.”
Able wiped his fare with a palm
And wet his lips. The two looked
long at one another and that spark
passed which will Jump from man
to man, carried sometimes by a
deed, often by n word, frequently
hy only a glance; that message
which says ns plainly as though In
Acribed in black characters against
white background: ”1 like you; I
am your friend!” It went from the
old man to the young and back
Again from young to old. Nicholas
"Brandon understood and the light
nings Ip his dark eyes played more
briskly, more ominously.
“And so you’d figure Tlncup as a
sort of hickory nut?’’
“I had. Tlncup has a reputation
all through the Lake states. I’d
heard so many times that a good
man with Ideas of his own, with In
dependence and, maybe, with ambi
tion had better keep away from
here that I found myself hankering
to get a look at the place.”
“What’s your line of work?”
“I follow the timber. . . . Any
thing.”
“Well, just what. Tor instance?
What are some of the Jobs you’ve
held?"
Elliott smiled a hit.
“Good many. I was a chore boy
once; another time I was a road
monkey. I’ve teamed and sawed,
worked as millwright and on rivers.
Once or twice I’ve run a camp or
two.”
“But your avocation, 1 take it, is
looking for bard nuts?”
Brandon spoke now:
“Your honor 1” His voice was
well modulated and yet In its qual
ity was something which suggested
Iron covered with velvet. “As com
plaining witness In this case, may I
suggest that we are beginning to
waste time? This young man has
pleaded guilty. Of course, I do not
want to be put In the light of one
who attempts to dictate to a court
of law, hut I have pressing matters'
to attend to and If we can get
on. . . .”
Outwardly this was only a sug
gestion. a plea; really, though. It
was one way of demanding, of giv
ing an order.
“Yes, you’re a busy man, Nick,"
Able said and nodded. “I’d sort of
figured being busy here today, my
self. Sort ef wondered If somebody
wouldn’t bring In Bull Duval on a
charge of assault and battery. He
trimmed my man Harrington so
badly that lie’s gone and my opera
tion’s without a boss today. I sort
of thought, being Interested as you
are In law and order, that Duval
might tie brought lu.”
"That Is something I know noth
ing about," Brandon said severely.
"Likely not. You can't be expect
ed to keep as close track of the men
who work for you as I do of mine.
That Is, it isn't reasonable to think
a man of your caliber would."
He spoke drily and Klllott. watch
ing the two, could see that bis
words stung Brandon I be Justice
straightened In his chair, however.
“But maybe we are delaying
things. Now. Mr. Klllott. don’t you
think It a little out of the way to
come Into a town, a total stranger,
and upset all that town’s prece
dents? If you, instead of one of
Mr Brandon's hired men, had
cleaned up on my man Harrington,
for Instance, it might not have been
such a grave offense. But here you
come and pick out the one man In
Tincup who hasn’t been struck or
even threatened in longer than 1
can recall—a man who Is regarded
here about like most folks would
regard a baron of the Middle ages—
and toss him out into the mud!
Why, Klllott. that's not ever hap
pened before!
“Probably it didn’t hurt Nick
much, but there are his feelings to
consider. Aren't you ashamed of
giving people a chance to Jeer at
Mr. Brandon?"
"It wasn’t a very smart thing to
do,” Klliott admitted. "It’s not like
ly now, that I'll even get a chance
to see how hard a nut this town
really Is.’’
“And no worse than you deserve:
Able said sharply. “You know bet
ter than to carry on that way. El
liott. I’ve got to give you a tine
commensurate with your offense. I'll
fine you a dollar and seventy-five
cents for costs or send you to Jail
for a day.”
In the rear a sacrilegious titter
or two. From the sheriff, a grunt;
from Nicholas Brandon a breath of
offended dignity and a look that
scorched. But on Ben Elliott’s face
only appeared a foolish smile.
“That’s reasonable enough,” he
said, “but the Joker Is this: I
haven't even got the dollar!”
“Well, our jail’s real comfortatde.
I’m told. A day , there’ll let yon
think over the advisability of go
ing around the country muddying
up the pants of respectable cltl
zens!"
Elliott, though, faced even so
short a jail sentence with anything
but relish.
“I can get the money easy
enough,' he said. “That is if you,
your honor, or somebody else'Il send
a wire for me.”
“That might be arranged. Where
to?”
“Here—” He reached for a sheet
of paper and pencil lying on the
table. Swiftly he wrote the words:
“Badger Forest Products company.
Beech Ridge, Wisconsin." lie hand
ed It to Able. “Will you wire for
twenty-five dollars and sign my
name? Send the message collect."
“Tint’s a hig outfit," the judge
said. “You figure they’ll do as you
ask?”
“Well, they never have turned me
down for anything I've asked. Of
course, there’s always the first time
If you'll do that . .
“Until that gets booty, Sheriff, I
suppose It’s me for the brig. . . .
Is that right. Judge?"
Able was studying the address
and when he looked up and grunted
an affirmative reply his gaze wns
far away. Far, far away.
For a considerable interval after
his court room had emptied. Able
Armitage sat motionless In his chair.
His eye still held that far-away
look, staring into space, and now
and again he picked up the scrap of
paper hearing the address young
Klliott had written and scanned it
closely.
“By cracky!” he said, an hour
after being left alone. “By cracky
by jing! It might he, yon know.
. . . It may be, possibly, perhaps
might he!"
Thereupon be rose, went to 9
wall telephone and put in a call for
Nathan Bridger, general manager
of the Badger Forest Products coin
pany, of Beach Ridge, Wisconsin.
After this he stood for a time In
the front window, peering out Into
the street. A man came along the
sidewalk, a man of about Abie's
years, bearing a limp and rusty bag
which stamped him as a physician.
He approached the entry.
“Big dny. Able,”—as the Justice
opened the door.
“Yeah. Big."
“Old Don's back.”
“So I heard.”
“Bad shape, too.”
“I heard that Real bad, Emory?"
Emory Sweet nodded gravely.
‘‘Heart’s like a sponge. He can’t
last long. . . Nick was all for
sending him back to Hemlock, but I
tc.ld him It would be murder to
move him now.”
"Oh, Nick showed up. did he?
Doesn’t like the notion of Don's be
ing in this vicinity.”
"It’s about as popular with him as
smallpox. When I’d prevailed on
him to let Don alone I told him the
truth; that he can't Inst more than
a few weeks and Nick looked like
a man who . . , well, like one
who'd heard good news.”
Able nodded. “Safer for Brandon
to have him in his grave. But when
old Don goes, seems like the last
chance of ever clearing the thing
up’s gone too.”
“Looks that way. Unless he’ll talk
before he dies.”
"Even so. It wouldn’t amount to
much. He’s an old bum: he was
a known drunkard at the time. It
happened so long ago, and with
the courts controlled by who they
are . . .”
"All but yours.”
“And mine without any Jurisdic
tion In sure-enough trouble."
The doctor started out. but halted
In the doorway.
“Hear Harrington’s gone.”
“Yes. The Bull ran him out of
town.”
‘‘Brandon?"
“Pont be simple. Emory. Who
else?”
"He certnlnl.v can't forget the
Hoot Owl, can he? What are you
going to do now. Able?"
The other shook his head gravely.
"1 wish I could give you an an
swer or uiyself an answer.
All forenoon I’ve had a feeling In
that |inliii."—extending tils creased
right hand, "as if the end of a rope
were slipping through It."
"Tough." muttered the doctor as
he went out.
An hour later Able Armitagp left
Ids otlice. He moved with great
alacrity for one of his years and
stopped only once and that was to
draw Bird-Eye Blaine from the
throng of onlookers that llnyd the
sidewalk
“(Sot your car In town. Bird Eye?”
he asked. "Have? Bun her around
by the Jail, will you? Might need
you; again. 1 might not. Best to
be prepared, though.”
Bird-Eye nodded assent and the
old justice went on.
Ben Elliott, solitary prisoner in
the county Jail, lay on the leas* ob
jectionable of the hunks he found
there, smoking and staring at the
dingy ceiling.
He raised his head sharply when
a key grated In the big steel door
leading to the cell block and
stopped putting on his pipe when
“Hum-m. He Say* You’re No Good."
the opening harrier revealed Able
Armitage.
“Hello, Judge I" Elliott cried and
grinned.
Able wasted no time.
"I’ve just been talking with
Brldger."
“Brldger! He here?”
"Oh, no. I called him on long
distance.” Able smiled as the oth
er gave u puzzled frown. "Brldger
and I are old friends. We fought
Spain together . . and malaria
when we tiad S[>aln whipped. I
think a lot of Bridger. I’ve a great
respect for him and his opinions."
“So've I. Everybody has."
"Hum-no. He says you're no
good."
Elliott started. “What a-tV Why
. . That’s funny. Do you mean
he wouldn’t stake me to the money
I asked for?”
"Oli . . That I I don’t know, l
didn’t ask; I forgot It. I wasn't
Interested in your tine. We can
take care of that. I was Interested
in finding out about you . . what
kind of a nut-cracker you are."
The young gray eyes were study
ing the old blue ones closely, now,
"I found out." Able continued.
"He says you’re no good.” In the
pause the Justice chuckled softly,
“lie says you're absolutely no good'
to yourself or anybody else. He
tells me that you know more about
logging and sawmills than any
man your age has a right to know
and he's seen a lot of men. He
says you can make the worst crew
that ever Infested a shanty eat out
of your hand. He says you don’t
know what it Is to be tired or
afraid. . . . And then he says again
that you’re no use on earth, so far
as he can tell I”
Elliott was grinning a bit foolish
ly now and rubbed his chin.
Abie went on:
"He told me that before the war
—your war, not ours—they’d fig
ured you as one of the prize young
men In their organization but that
since you’ve come home there’*
nothing you’ll do. You can do any
thing, he says, but you won’t I
asked him why and he said he
guessed It was because everything
they had to offer you was too sim
ple, which I translated to mean
that they haven’t a good, tough
hickory nut to offer you.”
The other’s rather embarrassed
smile faded.
“I’m sorry! I think a lot of Mr.
Brldger. He certainly has been
white with me. I've tried. Judge.
Honest, I’ve tried to give ’em all I
had but . . . But he’s right The
war upset me, like a lot of others.
I haven’t got my feet on the ground
yet After the big show everything
else seems too d—d easy !’’
"Likely. You haven’t tried my
Job yet,” Able said gravely.
"Being a Justice In Ttncup?”
“No. Not that. My real Job—my
real, tough nut—Is being adminis
trator for an estate. The McManus
estate, which is nothing more than
as pretty a piece of hardwood as
ever stood outdoors. The Hoot Owl
stuff we call It. Trying to operate
it to a profit and hang on ns admin
istrator so some other man won’t
step in and give that stuff away is
m.v particular hard nut.
1 like the way that you looked at
Nick Hran-'on in court this after
noon. No young man has looked
at him that way since | can remem
ber. That’s why I telephoned Itridg
er: because I liked the way you
looked at Brandon and because I’m
about worn out trying to crack a
hard nut. That's why I'm here
"Maybe, from what Brirlger told
me, and from what I’ve seen of you,
you might maybe, perhaps, like to
take a crack ut this nut. The fact
is. I’m through. Klllott. I’ve given
the job all I have. I’ru at my wit’s
end and the estate's at Its rope's
end. We’re licked, as we stand now,
nnd the truth Is that maybe, per
haps. possibly I might do a right
fair Job of begging you to come and
help me!"
Klllott did not speak, but watched
Able as he fumbled in his pocket
for a sketch map. Able paused for
a moment, and then continued:
"Come over by the window. Now.
here’s the lay-out."—spreading the
map on the sill. "Here’s the rail
road, main line. This Is Hoot Owl
siding with our mill. It’s a long,
narrow strip, you see; seventy-six
forties uncut. Four miles of slash
to north of the mill. Our railroad
goes lip through the chopping, so.
We’ve an old coffee-pot of twenty
ton rod engine and freight cars, all
more or less ready for Junk. Here's
the cainp now and we’re cutting on
the second forty north. Oot thirty
odd hands there that pass for men.
"Harrington was handling It for
me. Man named Haller's millwright
and a fellow named Huppert’s boss
at camp. Harrington's gone—driven
out—and we're in the soup!”
He paused ami looked at Klllott,
whose keen eyes were studying the
details of the map.
“It's a haywire outfit. The lo
comotive broke down yesterday and
unless the hoys get her working
the mill will be out of logs In a
week. The mill Itself Is a grand old
ruin but saws, after a fashion. The
lumber in the yards Is mortgaged
up to the last cull piece, there’s not
enough In the hank to meet Inter
est and pay-roll and there’s no boss
on the Job."
Elliott looked at the old man.
"You said It was as pretty a piece
of hardwood ns ever stood outdoors.
If so, why’s It In this Jam?”
Able Armltage lifted a hand In
gesture and whispered sharply one
word:
“Brandon!”
Ben put down the map, replaced
the pipe stem between his teeth and
shoved his hands deep into pockets.
“Brandon, eh?" Me nodded "Checks
out on the stories I’d heard. . . .
So Brundon's put you on the tobog
gan! Why?”
Able shrugged. "Six years ago I
was made administrator of this es
tate and to keep the carrying charges
from eating It up. I stnrted to op
erate. There wasn’t a chance to sell
the stumpage to anybody but Bran
don. Nobody’s going to put their
money into a devil-ridden country
like this! There are too many
stories going round of what’s hap
pened to others who have tried to
work alongside Nick. We had to
cut and mill or sell the stumpage to
Brandon at his own price. Maybe,
if It had been mine. I'd have sold; but
the owner of this timber Is an or
phan girl and . . a man doesn't
like to quit under these circum
stances.
"But every man I’ve put on to
run the thing has bpen beaten, and
I've had some good ones there. They
can’t get decent crews In the first
place. Bailor, the millwright, Thom
as, the camp cook, and a crazy Irish
man named Itlrd-Eye Blaine, who’s
camp boss, are tlie only three men
you cnn count on. Brandon spies
the good men who come along and
1 If they don't work for him he sees
to It that his Bull Duval drives ’em
out of the country. And this mat
ter of labor Is only one Item that
he makes hard t<> supply.
“Until now he hasn’t been able to
touch me I've managed to hold out
against him politically. But he's
watching and the probate court Is
watching, and unless I show some
progress hy the first of the year I’m
going to be hooted out as adminis
trator. With another administra
tor In control he’ll buy this timber
for a song, a girl will he robbed and
the shame of this community will
be complete !'*
(TO BB CONTINUED.)
Youthful Love of Poetrv
j
Cultivated Taste for the Beauty of the Written ^ ord
the Inalienable Right of Every Child: Poet
and Youngster Akin in Spirit.
Poetry, like spinach, has been
called a cultivated taste. More than
one harassed mother has given up
the struggle to make Junior or Jane
acquire a liking for either. While the
defense of spinach rests with some
body else, in The Parents’ Magazine
Helen Vau Pelt Wilson takes up the
case for poetry.
“You can’t expect a child who has
never seen a budding willow or an
’alder by the river,' Miss I»affy*.
down-dllly or a racing cloud, to be
very much interested In poems about
them. Yet by stimulating the senses,
by a constant appeal to sight, smell,
sound, touch and association 1 have
developed love of poetry In my little
daughter not yet the years of age.
Xow a poem springs up to accom
pany every act of her day."
To be sure, dally walks in the
country give the Imaginative back
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Significance in Period
of Child’s First Steps
There are no signs of superiority
in children who take tlielr first steps
before they rench fifteen months, ac
cording to a study made at the Uni
versity of Pennsylvania.
But those children long retarded in
walking, especially after reaching the
lifteen-month period, which is con
sidered the average to begin walking,
are significantly inferior, ns a rule,
the results of the study suggest.
Conducted by Dr. Miles Murphy,
assistant professor of psychology, the
study is based on the records of 712
children brought to the psychological
clinic during a period of live years.
Of these, a total of 850 had been di
agnosed ns normal by psychological
examiners, nml tne remainder as fee
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The records show that of the nor
mal children, for whom the average
age of walking was 14.99 months, ap
proximately 20 per cent started to
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ground for the nature poetry In
which this wise mother coaches her
small child. Vet, in the city there are
parks with trees, (lowing rivers and
florists’ windows full of bright beau
ty. In the city, too, there are mu
seums where birds and animals are
even more easily seen than In the
country. Pictures, well colored, add
to nature's lore Also, there is po
etry In gigantic machines and the
motion of city life.
“Why does It matter so much
whether children love poetry?” asks
Mrs. Wilson, and promptly answers
her own question. "To me poetry Is
an eternal glory and shining light.
I shall feel a lamentable failure If I
can't pnss this Joy along to my child.
Poetry is a refuge In time of materi
al losses, agony of grief, thwarted
ambitions; there is great comfort In
rhythmic beauty poured over the
troubled soul.”
With convictions such as these, no
wonder Mrs. Wilson feels that poetry
is the inalienable right of every
child. From knowledge born of her
own experience she declares there is
spiritual kinship between poet and
youngster. “Both are Imaginative,
curious, full of wonder and idealism.
Both love words for their own sake."
When it comes to selecting poetry
for children much of the choice
should be left to the child.
“The acid test is the child's own
liking," claims Mrs. Wilson. "Be
sides this no laboratory proof, no
nge or classroom list, no ‘shoulds’
nor ‘oughts’ can stand. ‘I like this’
and ‘Don’t let’s read that’ are the
only true determinators." In con
clusion she adds a word against
keeping poetry Just within the child’s
scope.
"You will find Junior and Jane will
enjoy much they can’t entirely un
derstand, particularly if the rhythm
Is strong. It’s good for a child tu ]
stand on tiptoe now and then."
LORD OF HAPPINESS
He who regrets not yesterday, he
who fears not tomorrow, he is the
lord of hnppiness, he Is the king of
sorrow,
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