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mmm !mm& WOODEN By VICTOR ROUSSEAU 3B±: Illustration* by Irwin Myers (Copyright, 1019. by George H. Donm Oa> mmm ************ CHAPTER XII. 4 M«rle Awakes. • I Hilary heard from Madeleine almost •v 4*lly. but they seldom met. Once or tfrtce they made an appointment, but both hated the thought of clandestin- Ity, and Hilary realized the need of ijpncentrating all his thoughts upon his work. Dupont had made three more voyages, and Baptlste, who kept out of sight, had given complete satisfaction. The lumber had brought unexpectedly good prices, and there was now ja probability that before navigation closed Hilary would be in a position to carry on till spring. When the winter cutting began, and there was more leisure, Hilary meant to fight out : the issue with Rosny. The old man was still partly paralysed, and he had Bade no reference of any kind to what had occurred, but his mind was quite dear, and, Madeleine thought,, his memory. Toward the middle of the month the newly discovered spruce supply had ,a0 been lumbered. Success seemed now almost assured. Dupont was getting ready to make his last voyage. The snow was not yet deep enough tat the teams to be sent Into the woods, and Hilary turned his thoughts once more to the island, more from eagerness to explore that part ot his domain than from any thought of cutting there that winter. Hilary was in his office one day when there came a tap at the door, and. to his astonishment, in walked Louis Duval. The little liquor-seller approached |»tm in an ingratiating manner. "Mondear Askew," he said, "I am very aorry for that night. I have been nway. Now I come back, and Monafenr Tessier tells me that you forgtre. Now I come to thank you." "That's aU right, Louis," said Hilary. "You are forgiven, as long as yea ke^p out of that trade of yours. It*a a bad business when it's run in the Ste. Marie way." Louis Duval sniffed contemptuous- Jj. Tin out," he announced. "And - Simeon's out. And he say he hope you don't bear ill-feeling. Them fellows never pay us a cent. An* I got , *y head busted open too," he added i leflertively. " * Hilary sprang to his feet and took the little man by the arms. "Do you •lean to tell me Broussean offered you money to open a saloon in St. Bonlftteef he asked. % ; "Sure he did. He said if I open he "i \flpt me up, an' he pay me two hundred dollars more if those fellows kill you." 7' "Good Lord I Is that all I'm worth?" ^ ,*/' flaked Hilary. I f • • 4 " O h i t a i n ' t t h a t , " a n s w e r e d L o u t s . \ . ftt guess you're worth more than that 5 much. But Pierre an* Leblanc, they te •; crazy to kill you, because you thrash Fierre an* you take away Leblanc's | business an' his family starve. Mayf i be he pay them too; maybe they pay *im to let them. I don' know. But jpierre an' Leblanc swear they get you yet. An' Simeon's out of the game, -^n' I want to tell you something, Monsieur Askew, If you won* bust my head Open again." •j- "Your head's quite safe, Louis, f IVhat is it?" "That damn Brousseau promise me . •wo hundred for the other job an* only pay me fifty." "What other Job!" w , "For to get them fallows to saw your boom, monsieur." feV.v' "So it was sawed, was.it?" demand- |%S,V«d Hilary furiously. . "Yes, monsieur. I get three fellows Hi from the south shore, an' I fell Into &. the water an' got rheumatiz, an' pay just received the message from the boy, stood motionless where he had been, waiting. Hilary became suddenly conscious of an atmosphere of hatred. When he reached Dupont the old man eyed him with the same searching and malignant stare that he had given him on the occasion of their first encounter. But now the eyes that blazed a foot from his own did not relax their gaze. There was a menace there, immediate and hostile, though the face was Immobile. It flashed through Hilary's mind that the old man was mad, that his long brooding had at last broken the fragile vessel of the mind. Disregarding the captain's look, Hilary explained briefly the matter on which he had come. Afl the while he spoke Dupont continued eyeing him. Hilary began to feel uneasy. "Well, Is that clear?" he inquired. "That much is clear," answered Dupont reluctantly. "Well, what's the matter, then?" demanded Hilary sharply. Suddenly he perceived that the old man's face was twisted with passion. His expression was so fanatical that Hilary thought he was going to attack him. But then the face resumed Its mask again. Without a word, Dupont swung onto the ship and left him. Baptlste's vessel was moored next to the wharf. As Dupont crossed it to reach his own, Hilary saw Baptlste on deck, bending over a tarpaulin. The two men did not speak, and Hilary, moved by a sudden impulse, walked the length of the wharf and accosted the little Frenchman. "Baptlste," he said, "some time ago I told you I didn't know whether you had any knowledge about the cutting of my boom or not. I want to say I'm sorry. I know that you had none, and I shouldn't have spoken as I did." And he put out his hand. Baptlste looked up. The little man's face was like a thundercloud. He clenched and unclenched his fists fiercely, muttering. Then he dashed Hilary's hand aside with his. "J don't shake hands with you!" he cried, and the team began to stream m G "You Keep Out of My Kill You I" Way m u • ten dollars for medicines, an' that damn Brousseau--" "Louis, will you sign your name to that?" "O sure, If you get them fellows an' Brousseau first," replied the little man, edging toward the door. Finding that he was not pursued, he halted. "Monsieur Askew, I gone back to my fishing job," he said. Hilary thought this was a characteristic occupation for Louis to take up, since it afforded him several months of idleness before the fishing season opened. "You have a boat?" he asked, remembering his plan to re-vlsit the island. "O sure," said Louis. "New sails an* rudder--all new except the boat. A ver* fine boat, monsieur." "Could you take Mr. Connell and myself over to the island and back tomorrow?" "I think so, monsieur. If the sea ain't running too high." -- "Be ready with your boil at one," •aid Hilary. It was practically his last chance for six months of visiting the island. He sent a messenger with a note to Lafe at the camp, asking him to be in St. Boniface at noon. Then he wrote his dally letter to Madeleine, He mentioned bis projected journey, but nothing else, except his love and bis hopes, which were weighty enough As he entered the store to mall it IB the letter-box there he thought the loafers seated about the place looked at him curiously. He had several times noticed a certain furtivenese in their regard, but had each time ascribed It to imagination and dismissed the matter. He did so again. He was walking back when he saw a boy outside the office. I "Captain Dupont srfyJ he is ready to •aiL monsieur," be said} "Tell h ira I'm coming down to speak t* him," said Hilary. * He went toward the wharf. Dupont was talking to Baptlste. As he approached, Hilary saw the two cease their conversation and look at him. Then Baptlste walked slowly away toward his vefc--i. Diipoat, who had down his cheeks. "You keep out of my way, or I kill you." And he rushed below, leaving Hilary utterly nonplussed at his behavior. • • • • • • When Brousseau, driving furiously homeward from the Chateau, reached the cottage of Jules Dupont, he saw the solitary figure of the girl Marie seated outside the door. He let his horse rest for a breathing spell before continuing up the hill, doffed his hat and saluted her. Bonjour, Mademoiselle Dupont," he called heartily. "Bonjour, Monsieur Brousseau/* answered mechanically. Brousseau had never been able to force a smile from her lips. For a long time he had dreaded this silent girl, then he had ceased to think about her; of late he had again begun to hate the presence of that lonely figure upon the porch, which was always there whenever he drove Into St. Boniface or back to his garish house by the seashore. The cure had not told Hilary all that related to the old captain's history, But the thread of madness that linked him to the past was spreading into a web that strangled the normal life of the man. Jules Dypont, never one of many words, had been more sullen and morose than ever of late. During the past week Marie had been terrified at the way her father looked at her. He had never meant very much to her and now, when he was about to pass out of her life, she felt no regret Her mind went traveling back to her earliest memory. She was on the seashore with her mother, watching for the return of the fishing fleet and her father's boat, and on the shingle lay the sailing boat of a young student from Quebec whom she had seen often at theic cottage during her father's absence. The young man was laughingly inviting her mother to go for a sail. At last the girl consented. The sail was a very long one. Little Marie, who had fallen asleep, was awakened by the sound of her mother's screaming and the young student's laughing protestations that it was too late In the day to return now. She did not understand all that was said, and her next memory was of a squalid lodging in Quebec, and her mother's tear-stained face, and a sense of unhapplness. Then she was back In the cottage, standing beside the bed on which her dying mother lay, and the sick woman, gripping her hand fast in her burning ones, was repeating a name over and over. "Say it again, child I" she was whispering. She reiterated this demand over and over again. "Say It!" she muttered. "Say it, and never forget And carry it with thee through life, saying It In moments of temptation, that thou mayest remember thy mother and understand. Now swear by the Virgin to say it morning and night, and never forget!" The frightened girl had sworn, catching the words from her mother's. lips. She had said the name morn and night until It had become engraved upon her memory forever. Bnt It was long before she understood its meaning. Then she remembered her father shaking her by the arms. "The name thy mother told thee--speak it, Marie!" "No," answered the little girl obstinately. He threatened her, but the child of five years pressed her lips together and would fiot utter a word. "Listen, Marie! If you tell me thou shalt have everything in the world. A new dress, and thou shalt sail with me upon my ship, and I will buy thee the big doll that opens and shuts her eyes. The name, Marie!" Marie remained perfectly silent. And for years she resisted her father's threats and promises and pleadings, not understanding that It was a mental Inhibition which she could not break. The sight of her dying mother had Inflicted a wound In the child's soul that never healed. And every week at first, every month later, the scene with her father was renewed. She never pretended to have forgotten, as she might well have done. As she grew older her father's outbursts became less frequent But the insane rage which agitated him grew rather than lessened as the years went by. Sixteen had passed; she was now twenty-one, and she looked back on a childhood that had been a torture. Her estrangement from her father was as complete as from the village life. At first the scandal had been against her, and later her aloofness had set the tongues of the St Boniface women to wagging. "Like mother, like daughter"--so runs the hard proverb In every country. Marie Dupont grew up friendless and utterly alone. The girl had never bad a friend, nor had she ever even had a sweetheart until six months before. Pierre, in the course of his peregrinations along the coast, at that time as assistant on a smuggling craft, had come to know the solitary figure that paced the beach. In those days the girl's heart, cut off from natural com munlcation with the young people of St Boniface, had turned, with the vague yearning of youth, to dreams of the world outside. The repressed spirit seeks Its adventures In devious ways; If not In action, then In Imagination. Marie Dupont longed for release from her Imprisonment, and dreamed of the prince who was some day to come and take her away. When Baptlste began to show an interest In her she hated him. She had never thought of him as a lover, and hardly as a man; he was a part of St. Boniface, of the hateful life that encompassed her, clutched at her and would not let her go free. She came to invest Baptiste with the qualities of all that she loathed. t Pierre scraped acquaintance wllh her. He had the intuition of the base man who must perforce win his victims by gu|le. He listened to her confidences, shyly given to one who, by his wandering life and through the tales that he told, seemed the exact opposite of all those whom she had known. He sent Nanette to see Marie, choosing the time when Dupont was away. Nanette was not bad; like most of her kind she was below normal mentality. When her lover, who had brought her to Ste.'Marie, abandoned her, she worked in a large and cheap lumbermen's summer boardinghouse. Pierre promised her that the man would return to her If she obeyed him. She met Marie upon the beach, and insinuated herself into her confidence. At last she took her to Simeon's dance hall. The lights, the dancing and the music were a revelation to her. On the first night she cried from happiness. Wholly ignorant of life, her innocence protected her and sealed her consciousness. And Simeon's place was better in the early summer of that year than afterward, and some of the lumbermen would bring their sweethearts there. The girl's Innocence found an ally In the lumbermen, who protected her, and she was. In fact, as safe there as In her home. Pierre was angry at first, but afterward he was glad, for he saw her dancing In Simeon's place and began to conceive an infatuation for her. He renewed his advances, telling her of Quebec, of the free life of the world beyond. When her Imagination was enkindled and her cheeks flushed and her eyes sparkled at the picture, he asked her to accompany Nanette with him on board his vessel, come to Quebec, and marry him. That was three days before, and It was of this that the girl was thinking as her father walked back toward the cottage after his meeting with Hilary. On the same day Dupont, running a small load along the shore, had learned the gossip about his daughter from a gabbling woman at Ste. Therese, twenty-five miles away-- so far the news bad traveled. She had gone to Ste. Marie in his absence, to denes with Hilary, who assuredly bad a wife in his own country; if he had not, he was not likely to seek one among the habitants. The story burned into the captain's brain. It was the solvent of his sanity, the snapping of the only bond that had linked him to the common life. For Marie's sake he had hidden his heart this score of years, and silenced those Impetuous voices calling to him to leave all and go out Into the world and seek the sign which Was to be found branded upon somo stranger's forehead. He stood at the cottage door, looking at his daughter, > who had risen and faced hiin.. Jean Baptiste remained outside. "I sail for Quebec tonight," said Dupont. "Jean waits two days to complete his cargo.'-' She nodded; her thoughts were far away. But it came across her mind, with momentary compassion, that she would never see her father again. "Perhaps I shall not see thee again," said Dupont somberly; and the words, echoing her own thoughts, frightened her. She shrank away, and Dupont put out his hands and grasped her by the wrists. "The name!" he said. She shook her head; she never spoke when he made this demand. "The name!. I have been very patient with thee. Now thy reason for withholding It is gone. The name!" "What do yon mean?" she stammered. "The name!" he raved; and for the first time since her childhood he raised his clenched fist as if to strike her. Q Baptiste, outside, heard him and saw the gesture. He came running up to the cottage door and caught Dupont by the arm. The captain hesitated ; then, collecting himself, as a new thought came to him, he allowed Baptlste to lead him back to the schooner. The new thought was this: If Marie would not give him the name, at least he would prevent a repetition of her mother's history. It held him, as a dream holds a madman, and he grew cunning and concealed it, and joked with his hands during the voyage until they wondered what was the matter with <hlm, and whether he was forgetting his obsession as he grew old. Baptiste, having seen Dupont aboard, went back. Marie was seated in the doorway again; the incident had ceased to trouble her. Nothing would trouble her again. Baptlste saw the quick start of anticipation as he approached. "Forgive me If I annoy thee, Marie,' he said humbly. "Thou knowest--" "Yes, Jean, I know that you have persecuted me more than all St. Bon! face," she answered. "Marie," he cried passionately, "If I could know that thou wast safe here, I should never trouble thee again/ She turned on him angrily. "Well, I can take care of myself," she answered. "If I choose to go to Ste. Marie, what Is it to you? Besides, there will be no more dancing until next summer." "But he is here," persisted Baptiste stubbornly. "Who?" she cried In agitation, fearing that he had discovered her secret. "He--Monsieur Askew. At first feared it was Black Pierre; but he swore to me that It was not so, on the second day after the work on the boom began." So Baptiste reckoned time, "And he swore it was Monsieur Askew loved thee." Marie burst Into reckless laughter. "I know that thou canst never care for me," Baptlste persisted. "But If he wrongs thee I kill him. Note well --I kill him!" Marie laughed bitterly and more loudly. It was amusing to spite and deceive St. Boniface, even through Baptlste. Yet, when he was gone back to his schooner, something that she did Nanette's voice was tremulous with happiness. She had never seen Leblanc since the day when he abandoned her in Ste. Marie. She had learned that he was working In St. Boniface; but when she went there to find him she was ordered from the limits with threats by Morris. However, Leblanc had sent her a message that some day soon, if she did not attempt to find him, he would return to her. She had lived In that unquenched hope and now that wonderful day bad dawned, for he was to meet her If she brought back Marie. He was to take her to the city, to marry her and give her a ring. Then she, too, would have shaken the dust of St. Boniface from her shoes forever. Marie Dupont locked the door,' and the two girls stole away side by side in the gray of the morning along the beach until they reached the place where Pierre and Leblanc were waiting. Pierre caught Marie In his arm* and pressed his Hps to hers. It was the first time anyone had kissed her. She trembled, half afraid, half regretful, as one who hovers upon the brink of the irrevocable. The girls sat in the tiny cabin, while Pierre and Leblanc ran up the sails. As the sloop began to pitch in the rough waters Marie grew more afraid. She was conscious that her happiness had left her. They had started too. late. In the middle of the channel the little boat with Its primitive centerboard was caught In the rough currents that beat about the rocks and shoals at the turn of the tide. They drifted steadily down the north shore. Pierre cursed as he strove to tack. Leblanc produced a bottle of brandy and began to drink. Pierre made Marie swallow some, and when Leblanc relieved him grew more boisterous in his love-making. Nanette was already half Intoxicated. Presently the two men fell to quarreling, until the realization that they were below the island and making for the open gulf sobered them. It was no such departure as Marie had anticipated. She crouched In the cabin in growing fear, terrified at the change in Pierre and in Nanette. Again and again Pierre came to her to force more brandy on her, and each time that she refused he grew angrier. Once she began to cry, and then, afraid of his gathering rage, pleaded with him: "Pierre, I am afraid. I thought It was a bigger boat I am afraid of your friend. Take me home. Some other time I will come--" He cursed her and shook her from him. Then, as she clung to him again, he struck her across *he face. His was her first blow, as his had been her first kiss. She sank down in the cabin and wept heartbrokenly, and now she was no longer afraid of the waves that lapped the boat's sides as it tossed and reared In the surging waters. An hour went by. The turning tide and veering wind enabled the men to get the craft under control again and head her up the river. Pierre came to Marie with the brandy bottle. He thrust it into her face. "Come, little one, let us kiss and make up," he shouted. He pulled her to her feet Her world was broken, life seemed helpless, and in her broken pride she stood humbly before him in the rocking boat, her hands clasped. "Pierre, I am sorry.* she wept "Thou knowest I lore thee, Pierre. Forgive me." Pierre laughed. It was good to see her thus "Drink," he said, gathering her to him with one hand. "Take a long pull and we'll all be happy together. Drink!" he commanded, as she hesitated in disgust ftjt, the smell of the liquor. As she obeyed him he tilted the bottle and the burning fluid ran down ber throat, choking her. Pierre laughed boisterously and pressed his Hps to h«r». * "Soon we shall reach Quebec, llttld otie," he said, "and thai thou shall have thy ring." "Tpnight?" she faltered, with still sinking heart He had forgiven her, then; still, everything was changed, and St. Boniface was far away across the waters. "Surely tonight," he answered, winking at Leblanc, and took the tiller again. Marie's bend swam, the boat seemed spinning round; she lay in the cabin, conscious vaguely of Leblanc and Nanette beside her, laughing and making love. Hours passed before she realized completely where she was. 'MM hfc Uk IMi'Mkferii "I was in iwiwait health until wtf kidneys weakened." says Mrs. N. A. Harris, 1000 Indiana St., Naodaafca, Kuula. "The kidney aeanetkm tamed like fire and passed so often 1 couldn't (M il moment's rest. My back ached and for day* at a time I was confined to bed. f a i r l y t o r t m e a with the shaip pains. I couldnt atocp without fan** ly screaming with misery. I lost strength and weight and was so weak I becinic a nervous wreck. Headaches and dizziness added to m Mn. Bank ,, , iy distress. My sight blurred; limbs, hands and face were swollen and puffy sacs came under my eyes. I lost hope of being well again, Finally a neighbor brought me a box of Doan't Kidney Pfll$, and later I got several boxes. My troubles began to lessen and soon 1 could sleep all night and wake up refreshed and happy and life was again worth living. I am now a strong, healthy woman and owe my health and happiness to Doan't. Bworn to I store me, J. A. DEARDORFF, Notary Public. C*t Daan'a at Am? Store, 60e • Boa DOAN'S "V.IIV FOSTER-MILBinN CO- BUFFALO, N. Y. - V Viseline "Come, Little One, Let Us Kiss Make Up," He 8houted. Sometimes she heard Pierre speaking to her, and once Nanette shook hVr, and seemed afraid. When she regained consciousness she found that the boat was in calm water. They were under the lee of an Island, and the sun was low in the west. The sloop grounded, and Pierre, picking her up in his arms, carried her ashore and set her down on the beach. She staggered to her feet The sloop was beached, and Leblanc and Nanette were at her side. "But this is not Quebec!" Marie stammered; and then, looking about In bewilderment, she recognised where she was. Pierre caught her by the arm. "W« are not going to Quebec," he exclaimed roughly. "Pierre^ why are we here? X must go home. Take me home!" The terror of her position dawned on her. She sobbed wildly and wrung her hands. Nanette cajoled her. "Come, don't be a little fool," she said. "We are going tar stay here--the four of us. It will be like a picnic. Come, then, Marie." She screamed wildly. Pierre advanced upon her savagely with upraised hand, but Nanette restrained him. "No, do not strike her," she pleaded. "Come, then," growled Pierre, grasping her by the arms and hurrying her forward. She screamed again, wildly, and fought furiously for her freedom. Pierre struck her again and again; then, lifting her Into his arms, he clapped one hand across ber mouth and began to carry her up the beach toward the forest. , (TO BB CONTINUED.) fefas.p>«.0ff. PETROLEUM JEUY Far burns, cuts, sprains andall skin irritations: Relieves ch3mess of scalp. HEFUSE SUBSBTUTir €Mi»fcliawHMP&ca fta«« Street New York * - Better than Pills For L i v e r I l l s . NR Tonight -- Tomorrow Alright 7i • I III) ('!«', , I III M l' f1 J. ^ " . PYTHON WANTED THAT DINNER He ftaleed His Clenched Flat as if to 8trlke Her. not understand quite unexpectedly rose Vn her throat and choked her. She wanted to call him back. She was amazed; St. Boniface was growing dear to her. It was becoming what it had never been, her home. She looked out of her window and saw, her father's schooner depart, with flapping sails, under the moon. She pictured linptiste asleep aboard his vessel. The little man had been kind to her. She wept. Presently there came the faintest tap at the door. She opened It noiselessly. A shadow was whiting there. "C'est toi, Nanette?" "He is waiting for thee upon the shore. And he has bronght back my lover to me, as he promised. We go to Quebec together aboard his ship." Hungry Reptile Made Thlnas Decidedly Interesting 'or Bluejaoketa on British Gunboat. The crew of a British gunboat in eastern waters once had a lively time looking after a python on board that had escaped from its cage. Besides the python there was on board a big Borneo orang-outang. The python, which was nineteen or twenty feet long, having dined heartily on a deer about three weeks before, began to feel its appetite returning, and in searching about its box for a place of egress, found one side in bad repair. It did not take long for that python to come through the weak part, and, quite unobtrusively, It began Its perambulations around the boat. Seeing the orang-outang chained up a few yards off the big snake Invited Itself to a dinner very much to Its taste. It would have been all over with the orang-outang had not the quartermaster at that moment made the discovery that the two pets were about to be merged Into one. He promptly cut the orang-outang loose. The latter was up the mast head before any mischief could be done and a lieutenant, the owner of the orangoutang, the quartermaster and a member of the crew flung themselves upon the hungry python--one at the head another at the tail and^h third in the middle. Then the excitement began, for the python wanted to get one of the aggressor's nicely In its coils, and the men were determined that it should be kept out In something as nearly approaching a straight Une as possible. For a minute It was the Laocoon group all over again, only In this case the three men and the snake were sprawling over the deck instead of standing Upright in a classic attitude. Reenforcements, however, arrived In hot haste and about twenty bluejacketc, each embracing a foot of python. reduced the reptile to comparative quiet The procession marched back to the python's box, colled the creature Inside and shut It up. But the orang-outang sat aloft at the masthead a long time before he came to the conclusion that he was not the menu lot the day. Not Impromptu. The prosecuting counsel In| la wsuit had waxed especially indignant with the defendant whom he characterized as "abandoned, baneful, cynical. diabolic, execrable, felonious, greedy, hateful. Irresponsible, Jaundiced knavish, lazy, meddlesome, noxious, outrageous and profligate." "My learned friend on the other side," said the counsel for the defendant "should have put his adjectives In a hat and shaken them up a little before using. You must have noticed, gentlemen of the Jury, t^at they were in regular alphabetical order. This shows that lie selected them from a dictionary, beginning with 'a.' He stopped at p,<hut In his manner of rlproduc- Ing them he has given up the •cue* as to how he got them." 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