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Newspaper Page Text
THE SCRAP OF PAPER
By George M. Gough
Benson lay upon the rocks, staring
at a letter beside him. In front of
him the blue waes rippled in the
sunshine. The air was warm and
balmy. It would have been difficult
for any one not acquainted with the
country and the temperature of Jiily
to realize that this was Alaska.
"Dear Air. Benson," ran the letter.
"We beg to inform you that, in ac
cordance with the terms of your late
father's will, all the property except
the limited estate entailed, goes to
your younger brother. You are,
however, Baron Linfield, and, as
such, are now the owner of Linfield
Manor. Kindly wire us instructions
as to your plans.
"We wish to add that, inasmuch as
the upkeep of the estate far exceeds
the rent-roll, it would be to your in
terest to sell this to your younger
brother. There is, however, a codicil
to the will, made by your father in
his last illness. Should you decide
to leave the woman with whom you
are living, an .annual sum of five
thousand pounds is to be paid you to
enable you to keep up .your title re
spectably. "Faithfully yours,
"Dench & &Dench."
"The woman with whom he was liv
ing." Benson saw the words staring
at him out of the typewritten page.
His father had known. He had mar
ried a half-breed.
Natusha had been educated at a
mission school and, save for the jet
black hair and rather high cheek
bones, she might have passed for a
white woman. But in the eyes of .his
acquaintances she was a squaw and
he a squaw-man. He had married
her when he was desperately lonely
in the remote north and half-crazed
?h drink besides.
isha had redeemed him. She
vn the whisky bottles away.
made sa a home. She
had loved him, and he had loved her,
too, so far as it was in his power to
love any one so remote from his own
kind. Natusha had been a good wife
to him. But she was a squaw. Be
cause of that fact Benson had been
shunned, save by a few primitive
minded trappers who traversed the
country, and an occasional wander
At all the camps Benson was an
outcast. He could get whisky to
Wry: . 4 t Tp 7 "' ,-. M sff.
Natusha Watched Him With a Dumb
Aching at Her Heart
drown his memories, it is true; but
he had never touched a drop since
Natusha threw the bottles away. And
his name was a-byword among the
few of his own kind.
A violent revulsion of feeling came
over Benson. He seemed to smell
the Sussex air, to see the beautiful
country of his birth. He had friends,
many, in England. They would for
get his past. They would rally to'