Glacier County chief. [volume], September 03, 1937, Magazine Section, Image 6

About Glacier County chief. [volume] (Browning, Mont.) 1931-1940

Image provided by: Montana Historical Society; Helena, MT

                
RESURRECTION RIVER
gTNOPSIS
Wm« Lovatt, ttertr-Uucc. Junior partner
to th* powerful Wellington. Parkaa * Lov
ett. Incorporated Mineo o< Chicago, which
*SMM so qaratinnahle transactions, plans
to make a sacrat coup to the Canadian Arc-
Ito* where a tow years before a rich but in
arsaasfbls mining field has been discovered
ea Wasuirectian river, which flows into
Dynamite Bay. Patricia, high spirited and
bssartful daughter of crusty old Jasper Wei
nagtoa. who is engaged to Warren, decides
to accompany him. They go by plane.
Pat meets "Poleon," a French-Canadian
prospector, who tells her there are only
Ato prospectors in the field and that be
cause of the difficulties, they are hanging on
by a thread. Pat is disturbed when Warren
will not disclose what his secret mission to.
She meats flam Honeywell, a friend of Po-
Icon's. Moved by the plight of BUI Fornier.
a prospector, who. though fatally UI. strug
gles to hold his claim. Pat decides to help
him. Informed by Lupe Chiwaughimi. half
breed retainer of the company, about Pat’s
befriending the prospectors. Warren tries to
dissuade her. He tells her that Craig Tarl
ton. with whom she had once been in love,
to now deputy mining inspector for the Res
urrection river area. A brilliant geologist,
he had resigned in disgust from her
father’s company because of its devious
methods. Later she meets Craig, but he to
cold, inferring that she is merely feigning
interest in the prospectors. Her compas
sion for the hapless prospectors growing.
Pat decides to build a huge community
house or Den. When the job nears com
pletion. Warren tells her to abandon it She
refuses after a stormy scene. Craig leaves
on a throe-month inspection trip to the north.
Pat learns that her father has withdrawn
her allowance. When Warren refuses to
advance her a loan to aid the prospec
tors, she moves her tent across the river
near the Den. She learns now of Warren's
plan. He hopes to starve the prospectors
out and make them seU their claims for
a song. Pat tells the prospectors of Warren’s
plan. Still attentive to Pat. Warren wages
a subtle campaign to get the claims. Just
before Christmas. Craig returns suddenly
and Pat to overjoyed at hit changed atti
tude. He brings her a present of furs and
apologizes for his former suspicions. Con
cluding that she cannot ever marry War
ren. Pat returns her engagement ring. He
reveals that Craig Tarlton to already mar
ried. Warren Lovett warns Craig to stay
away from Pat, saying 'he knows about
his previous marriage. Craig tells him he
will inform Pat about the misadventure
U the occasion arises. Later. Pat to
thrilled when Craig tells her be will join
her in the fight against Warren.
CHAPTER Vm—Continued
On that presumption he called
Poleon, Kessler, Sam and three
other experienced prospectors into
his cabin one afternoon, told them
about Kessler’s lost strike, and gave
them instructions:
“You fellows take two dog teams
and whip northeast to the Wolf
Lairs on the jump. Pick up that
gneiss band at the point I've got
marked here, follow it through its
whole length, take samples every
lour chains, keep air-tight records
of everything, and hurry back with
your data. Don't let it take you
more than a month at the outside.
“While you're doing that, I'm go
ing to make a thorough and ac
curate study of the material I've
got here, so that if we don't locate
the lode along this principal band,
we’U know where to look next.”
As soon as the party had left the
Bay, be himself settled down to a
siege of intense research with his
survey notes, ore fragments, micro
scope and assay outfit.
Though he hardly ate or slept
those days, he did manage to
squeeze out a little time each eve
ning to spend with Patricia. It
was fine to drop down to her cabin
lor a visit, after long hours of tedi
ous research; and fine to have her
come up to his place for a book
and then linger for a chat. Her
•Here presence seemed to warm up
Us cabin and take away its bache
lor austerity.
He happened to notice, once in
her cabin, that she was no longer
wearing her engagement ring. When
ha asked her about this and Pa
tricia told him of her Christmas
eve talk with Warren, he experi
enced a queer leap of heart—and
Wen a sharp uneasiness. Was God’s
kha reaching out for him, rising
oat of the dead past and claiming
NaowaT Was this Arctic trip of hers
toe accident it appeared, or was
destiny overtaking him and Patri
cia Wellington?
'Tve got to tell her about Rosa-
Ue,” he decided. “She’e got to
ksow—Bbout that.”
One evening, when he left Pa
trida’s cabin earlier than usual and
went ap the dark hollow, he looked
ahead and eaw a light in his own
cabin. It was not a candleglow
bad Iha yellow shaft at a flash.
ghpeiag up to his window, he
peered through at the intruder. The
pane was frosted so badly that he
could net recognize the man but
merely could see a dim figure lean
ing over the work table, apparently
eeaenfaing tha Wolf-Lair charts and
Craig eased over to the door and
waited, flattened against the logs.
In a few minutes the door opened,
end the intruder stepped into the
Craig reached out and Mixed him
by We shoulder. "I say, friend, don’t
hurry ewer."
the man whirled, tore loose from
CMWn anew, end bolted down the
heMs«> <lralg fanged after him. At
to^ghmMferJ^cmght the
By WXim Byran Mowery
0 William Byron Monty.
WNU Service.
"Lupel” he gasped. "Lupe Chi
waughimi!"
The metis leader was limp and
unconscious. A trickle of blood from
his nose was dribbling down across
his iron-gray temple and staining
the snow.
Thinking that the fellow might be
badly hurt, Craig carried him to
the cabin, laid him on the bunk and
lit a candle.
As he started to examine the half
breed, Lupe's eyes flickered open.
After a few dazed moments the
metis sat up.
Craig brought him a wineglass of
brandy. "Here, swallow this. Sorry
you busted your head against that
boulder, Lupe. How d’you feel—
anything bad wrong?”
"I’m aw-right,” Lupe grunted. He
got to his feet, somewhat groggily.
“Why were you sneak-thieving
here in my cabin?” Craig demand
ed.
Lupe refused to answer.
"Lovett sent you over here—did
n’t he?—to pilfer around in my pa
pers and find out what I’m doing.”
Lupe merely stared at him, tight
lipped.
The glint in the fellow’s eyes puz
zled Craig. It was a sinister glint,
a look of man-to-man hatred.
He stepped across to the table to
see whether any of his papers had
been stolen or destroyed. To his
surprise his Wolf-Lair charts had
not been touched at all. The only
thing he missed was a little clip
of notes from Patricia—hasty little
scribbles which she had sent him
at times when they were both busy,
and which he had carefully treas
ured, because they were from her.
He turned to the half-breed.
"Hand over those notes, you.”
Lupe sullenly took them out of his
pocket and threw them on the cot.
"What the devil did you want
with those?” Craig questioned.
Lupe refused to say a word. Talk
ing to him was like talking to a
rock.
“I ought to have Corporal North
up stick you in the police butter
tub,” Craig said. “I’d do it, but
it strikes me that if anybody ought
to be jailed, it’s Lovett. You were
only doing his dirty work for him.
So I’m going to let you go. Clear
out—and stay clear t Get back
across the river and tell Lovett
that if he can’t fight clean and keep
inside the law, he’ll find himself fac
ing some of those 'consequences'
that he warned me about!”
CHAPTER DC
After a day of hard work, Craig
had called past Patricia’s cabin
around nine o’clock and taken her
on a long night walk—to a rocky
islet three miles out upon Dynamite
bay.
In the last fortnight their days
had become so crammed, their time
so limited, that they had begun tak
ing walks at night as a way of lump
ing together their association, their
outdoors and their “war talks.”
Now and then Craig peered
through the ghostly half-light to
ward Resurrection mouth, trying to
glimpse the shadowy Lupe Chi
waughimi. Twice, while Patricia
and he were coming across the bay,
he had heard the squeak of a rac
quet beam on the dry snow behind
them; and he knew that somewhere
among those hummocks yonder the
metis leader was hidden, watch
ing Patricia and him.
It was seldom, during these night
walks, that he and she talked of
any personal matter. Little by lit
tle the easy friendship of the New
Year's period had receded till now
it was definitely gone; and in ita
stead a tension had grown up be
tween them, a sharp quivering ten
sion that threatened to snap at a
word or a glance.
Not mortally sure just how Craig
felt toward her, Patricia had kept
flouncing from one extreme of be
lief to the other. At times she in
dulged in the sweetly anguishing no
tion that Craig considered her only
a friend and ally. At other times
she believed, ecstatically, that his
friendship had become quick with
passion.
In the night silence the long
drawn howl of a wolf came floating
down from some granite ridge far
up Resurrection. Miles distant, but
clear and vibrant on the frozen air,
the cry was packed with all the
loneliness and savagery of those
Arctic wastes. As It died away it
was taken up and echoed by a score
of other wolves.
Craig broke the long silence,
abruptly. "Treeshia, Warren told
you that I was married at Vancou
ver, didn't he?”
Patricia straightened 19 with a
jerk. "Y-yes," she managed. And
then she suddenly realised that
Craig had brought her on thia long
walk, out to thia islet under Ite
stars, fee the exproes purpose of
telling her about hie marriage.
"Warms aeomp to etjaeh a tot of
The marriage has not been formally
dissolved. I thought she’d get a
divorce, but she apparently hasn’t.”
Patricia winced with jealousy at
his words, “We lived together for
about a year,” even though his
tones said unmistakably that this
Rosalie Layton meant nothing what
soever to him now."
"I've told you the facts about my
marriage; now I'm going to tell you
the truth,”'he said. For a moment
he looked thoughtfully out across
the frozen bay. "When I went over
to the West Coast six years ago,
Treeshia, I was in a cynical and
disillusioned mood. I had just taken
several stiff jolts—the break-up be
tween you and me, for one thing—
and I wasn’t old enough or steady
enough to absorb them. I guess I
went pretty thoroughly to pieces in
a moral sense. When we don't have
any goal or objective, we do go to
pieces.
“For want of any better aim, I
set out to pile up money for my
self, there at Vancouver. I made
plenty, in short order—that zinc
separation process. From having
money it was an easy step to begin
throwing it, and I did that, too. I
hooked up with a fast-moneyed
crowd and moved faster than they
did. Then I met Rosalie. She was
g
Patricia Straightened Dp With a
Jerk.
a beautiful creature, with an intoxi
cating appeal to the senses; and she
fitted perfectly into my frame of
mind. It didn’t matter that she was
engaged to a rather close friend of
mine—l cut in, took her away from
him, married her.
"Well, that epicurean phase
couldn’t last and didn’t last. It was
a hothouse life, and I was bom to
the granite and cold waters of On
tario. The relationship between
Rosalie and myself was merely an
infatuation, with nothing fine or en
during about it; and it burned out.
"The end came when I discovered
that Rosalie had renewed her
friendship with this former fiance
and was meeting him frequently.
She and I had a talk. Because she
demanded it and because I was
sick of my whole apostasy, I turned
over to her everything I had. I
realize now that I could have be
stowed that money more worthily,
but at the time I didn't care about
anything except to cut clean and get
free of it all.
“When I left Vancouver I had
one dollar in my pocket, and I
threw that into the river. I worked
my way north to Fort Smith, se
cured this job at Dynamite Bay,
and I’ve been here ever since . . .”
His story left Patricia immensely
relieved, for she had been imagin
ing all sorts of things about those
two dark years. She could under
stand the revulsion which had led
Craig to throw everything over
board and seek seclusion in the
lonely North; and she understood,
also, why the cold harsh purity ot
the Arctic had appealed to him so
powerfully.
Secretly she was even a little
glad to hear the story, for her own
pleasure-seeking years did not
weigh so heavily on her conscience
when she knew now that Craig had
been likeerise guilty.
She asked presently, “Where is
Rosalie, Craig?”
"Living in Europe, the last I
heard.”
"Warren intimated to me that
she’s back in Vancouver. Has she
ever written you or expressed any
desire to live with you again?”
Craig laughed ironically. “D’you
think she’d have any interest in a
man who's making eighteen hun
dred a year?”
“Was it part ot your agreement
that she would got a divorce?”
..'.‘X—- I
didn't, unless tram Mafa inertia.
Just as soon as this flifat oases up
enough so thatl can spore the timer
and money,! Mend topet the dL
erne. HtAdoTtoSwgposMivt
*-L—-
Warren, tha lawyer, was looking at
this situation from a legal view
point, whereas Craig was seeing it
in a common-sense and human way.
If there was any legal technicality
by which Cralg’a marriage could be
used as a weapon against him, War
ren would seize the chance.
With a shock of misgiving she re
called that Warren was flying out
to the city country in a day or two.
He had told her so, just that morn
ing. She wondered what business
was taking him south. Was there
any connection between his trip and
this Rosalie situation?
It was after midnight when she
and Craig got back to camp. At
the door of her cabin they stopped,
awkward and uncertain, with that
painful throbbing silence between
them. In the last half hour nei
ther had spoken once.
“Won’t you come in, Craig?” she
invited. “We haven’t spared time
for a cup of tea in the last week.”
“I’d like to, if you don’t think
it’s too late, dear.”
Patricia trembled at that word
"dear.” It was the first token of af
fection that had escaped Craig’s
lips. Maybe he’d been holding back
because of his marriage, not know
ing definitely how she would react
to it.
"I’m not tired at all,” she lied.
“And I'd like—l want to give you
those three books I borrowed.”
Craig stood their snowshoes by
the door and stepped inside with
her.
Except for the Aurora glow beat
ing against the north window, the
cabin was entirely dark. Patricia
groped across to her dresser and
fumbled for matches, to light a can
dle. She was ashamed of herself
for urging Craig to come in. Why
didn’t he say something, do some
thing? There was no longer any
reason for his holding back. Surely
she had made it plain to him, out
yonder on the rocky islet, that she
considered his marriage dead and
meaningless.
She heard him lean his rifle
against a chair and start over to
ward her.
“Treeshia!”
His strange tone made her whirl
around. No wavering uncertainty in
that tone! It was like a summoning
call.
"Yes—here," she stammered, her
heart thumping wildly. Craig had
interpreted her reaction right. When
he stepped into her cabin all his
hesitancy had fallen away from
him.
He came up to her. In the dark
his hand touched her shoulder. Pa
tricia wanted to flee, to escape, but
she could not move. Before she
could stop him Craig took her into
his arms, with an overpowering in
sistence that swept her off her feet.
“Treeshia—girl—till tonight, till I
told you about Rosalie, and you said
it didn’t matter ... And I held
off because I didn't want to force
my love on you or influence you in
any way. It didn’t seem right—
right to you—when you’re so badly
tom up already—”
“Craig! Don’t!” She fought
against him, tried to free herself.
All her aching dreams of the past
half year were springing into actu
ality as she felt Craig’s arms
around her;'God’s lake and all ita
haunting sweetness were being res
urrected, after six years. "Craig!
You —we — mustn’t! Craig!”—she
turned her face away—“don’t!”
He brushed back her parka-hood,
kissed her hair. “Treeshia, sweet”
—as he sought her lips—“please
don't turn away like that Say you
do care—a little, girl."
Her hand crept up to the black
ripples of his hair. "Oh, Ido care—
dearest . . .”
Sleepless that night, Warren Lov
ett had read till nearly two o’clock,
in a blanketed chair near tha stove.
As he finally laid his book aside and
stood up, stiff and eye-weary, a
knock came at his door.
“Who is it?” he asked, surprised
to And anybody else awake at that
hour.
“Lupe Chiwaughimi. I wan’ to
see you.”
“Put it off. • I'm going to bod.”
Instead of obeying, the metis
came in, came over to the stove,
confronted him.
“What’s the trouble?” Warren do-
DlßlMlfld.
Lupe gestured across Resurrec
tion. "Dose two go walking ag’in
tonight. Long walk.”
“Woll, what's new about that?”
Warren snapped irritably. Patricia
had been the cause of his sleepless
ness, and he had been trying to stop
thinking about her. “Tarlton has
taken her walking every night for
two weeks, hasn't ho?”
“But dis night, it different. W’en
dey get back, he go into her cabane
wit’ her and stay dore whole hour.”
Warren stiffened. "Yes—?"
“I go 'round behind cabane, crawl
op on snow-dreett," tha metis went
on, in cold clipped words. “I look
down over top of window curtain,
watch w’at dey do. For a w’llo at
first do cabane dark. Don, w’en
dey light candle on dresser, Tori
ton got her fa bees arms. Bimeby
dey fix toa. After long torn he
leave tor hose cabane."
The vivid weeds at Rie UM bite it
aroused a storm of jealousy fa War
ren. Patricia, fa Craig Tarlton's
awns ike hateful ptotars ot it fleat
fi • m - xoMto
be bed stead to ibe Asps that Purl
oin weald osmo to her ssneso and
toe hew nitorfr tasiwMstitte Tort-
They’re Cinches to Sew
I \ /1 Ji epl J
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"A \W
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□63 1^52
VES, the sewing bug will get
* you, if you don't watch out,
young lady! And when it does
there will be a hum in your life
(and we don’t mean head noises).
Right now is the time to begin;
right here is the place to get your
inspiration. So all together, girls:
it’s sew, sew, sew-your-own!
Inspiration Number 1.
The vivacious model at the left
is the number 1 piece for your
new autumn advance. It calls for
taffeta, embellished, as you might
expect, with grosgrain. You may
use vivid colors too, Milady, for
Fashion has gone color mad this
fall. Reds of every hue, bright
blues, lavender, warm browns, all
are being featured in smart ave
nue shops along the Rue de la
Paix.
Morning Frock.
For most of us, each day de
mands that a little work be done.
Sew-Your-Own appreciates this
and the need for frocks that are
practical, pretty, and easy to keep
that way, hence the new utility
frock in the center. Five pieces
are its sum and total; seven morn
ings a week its cycle. Any tub
well fabric will do nicely as the
material — try one version in
printed rayon.
Tailored Charm.
The waistcoat used to be a gen
tleman’s identification, but, alas,
like many another smart idea,
womankind has copped it. Here
you see an attractive example of
DREPARE apple sauce by your
1 favorite method and then try
this delicious summer recipe.
Fresea Apple Putotag.
1 eups uameteoed apple oauee
4 tablespoons sugar
H eup oeaase marmalade.
U cup eream, whipped
Combine apple sauce, sugar and
marmalade. If apple sauce has al
ready been sweetened, omit sugar.
Fold in whipped cream. Turn into
freezing tray ft automatic refrig
erator and freeze without stirring
until firm (about 3 hours), using
low cold control for freezing.
Yield: m pinta or • Mrvings.
FIT ,M ltl—iWg)
LIFE’S LIKE THAT By Fred Neha
this modern contraband. Not only
does it have suavity, but it is en
tirely feminine, as well. The ex
quisite waist line, sweet little col
lar, and puff sleeves, make this
a number you can’t afford to pass
up.
The Fattens.
Pattern 1383 is designed for
sizes 12 to M (30 to 40 bust). Size
14 requires 3’A yards of 39-inch
material, plus 18 yards of ribbon
for trimming, as pictured.
Pattern 1354 is designed for
sizes 34 to 48. Size 38 requires 4%
yards of 35-inch material.
Pattern 1252 is designed for
sizes 12 to 30 (30 to 38 bust). Size
14 requires 3% yards ot to-ineb
material.
Send your order to The Sewing
Circle Pattern Dept., Room 1020,
211 W. Wacker Dr., Chicago, 111.
Price of patterns, 15 cents (in
coins) each.
• Bell Syndicaw.—WNV Sarrlcc.
^lkriW**^^**^*
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