Cheyenne Wells record., December 14, 1922, Image 2

About Cheyenne Wells record. (Cheyenne Wells, Cheyenne County, Colo.) 1???-1969

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The STRENGTH
of the PINES
"FORGIVE YOU?**
fcTNOPSIS.-At the death of his
foster father Brute Duncan, in an
•uteni city, receives a mysterious
maaaage. sent by a Mrs. Ross, sum
moning him peremptorily to south
ora Oregon—to meet ••Linda.*'
Brace has vivid but baffling recol
lections of his childhood in an or
pbsosfe, before his adoption by
Newton Duncan, with the girl Lin
da. At his destination. Trail's End.
sews that a message has been sent
Ca Bruce gets to Simon Turner.
Leaving the train, Bruce is aston
ished at his apparent famllarlty
with the surroundings, though to
hie knowledge he has never been
there. On the way Simon warns
him to give up his quest and return
Base Bruce refuses. Mrs. Ross,
aged and infirm, welcomes him
with emotion. She hastens him on
his way—the end of “Pine-Needle
Trail." Bruce finds his childhood
playmate, Linda. The girl tells him
of wrongs committed by an enemy
clan, 'the Turners, on her family,
the Rosses. Lands occupied by the
cJan were stolen from the Rosses,
and the family, with the exception
ef Aunt Elmira (Mrs. Ross) and
herself, wiped out by assassination.
Bruce's father, Matthew Polger,
was one of the victims. His mother
had fled with Bruce and Linda.
The girl, when small, had been kid
naped from the orphanage and
brought to the mountalna Linda's
father had deeded his lands to
Matthew Polger, but the agree
ment, which would confute the
eaamy claims on the property, bad
been lost. Bruce's mountain blood
responds to the call of the blood
feud. A giant tree, the Sentinel
nan. In front of Llnda'e cabin,
sarihe to Bruce's excited Imagina
tion to be endeavoring to convey a
message Bruce sets out In sear h
of a trapper named Hudson, a wit
ness to the agreement between
Llnda'e father and Matthew Pol
ger. A gigantic grizzly, known as
the Killer, la the terror of the vi
cinity. Dave Turner, sent by
Bmon. bribes Hudson to swear
felerly concerning the agreement.
The Killer strikes down Hudson.
Brace, on his way to Hudson,
wounds the Killer, driving him
from his victim. Hudson, learning
Brace's Identity, tries to tell him
the hiding place of the agreement,
but death summons him. Dave de
cays Linda and Aunt Elmira from
their home. Tiie man insults Linda
a—* Is struck down .by the aged
woman. F.lmlra's son has been
murdered by Dave, and at tier com
mand. arter securely binding the
deapermdo. Linda leaves them alone.
Returning. Bruce finds a note, ap
parently from Linda, telling him
she haa been kidnaped by the
TVisti a. Bruce falla Into Simon’s
trap, and Is msde a prisoner. Charg
lag Bruce with attempting to re
spaa the blood-feud, the clan
leaves him. bound. In a pasture on
•he spot where the Killer had slain
aed half eaten a calf the night be
flare. Bruce, helpless, awaits ar
rival of the lUller and death. Si
mon makes Linds an offer of mar
rlgpa. The girl refuses, telling him
aha levee Bruce. Enraged, the man
bratalty strikes her and leaves,
lias girl is confident he will go to
Bruce and follows him. With the
Kller actually sniffing at Bruce's
bedy. Linda, on horseback, arrives,
wounds the animal, and carries her
lover away.
CHAPTER XXIV—Continued.
—10—
He ted rather liked his appearance as
te MW himself in the water of the
tir*-g The last of the velvet had
tees nsbhed from his horns, and the
Iwlw tines (six on each horn) were
as hard and almost ns sharp as so
maaj bayonet points.
Am the morning dawned, the change
hi the face of nature became ever more
arenlfest. The leaves of the shrubbery
bate* t° change in color. The wind
•ut «f the north had a keener, more
biting quality, and the birds were hav
ing some sort of exciting debate in
the tree tops.
TV birds are always a scurried,
acre sow, rather rattle-brained outfit,
and at era wholly incapable of making
a decision about anything without
hours af argument and discussion.
Their days are simply filled with one
excitement after another, and they tell
more acandal in an hour than the old
ladiea In a resort manage In the en
tire summer. This slow transforma
tion In the color of the leaves, not to
mention the chill of the frost through
their ocanty feathers, had created s
aenaation from one end of hlrdland
to another. And there was only one
(Met about It. That was to wait un
til the darkness closed down again,
then start away toward the path of
tbe son In search of their winter re
sorts in the south.
Tbe Little People in the forest of
fbena beneath were not such gay birds,
and they did not have such high-flown
Mmo as these feathered folk in tbe
branches. They didn't talk such fool-
MbnoM and small talk from dawn to
Am*. They didn't wear gay clothes
that weren't a particle of good to them
In raid weather. You can Imagine
there an being good, substantial, mid
g), i toaa people, much more sober
tending strictly to business
•art nark In g hard, and among other
dbgi tVj saw no need of flitting down
ta as affirm resorts for the cold sea*
mm _ These people—being mostly
squirrels and gophers and chip
mmdkm and rabbits bad not been fit-
Hl kj nature for wide travel and
|!l rr *- an arrangements for a pleas
0t winter at home. Yon could si
mm 9 rente re tbe fat free of a
Copyright by Llttlo, Brown, and Co.
plump old gopher when he came out
and found the frost U[»on the ground;
for he knew that for months past he
had been putting away stores for Just
this Jenson. In the snows that would
follow he would simply retire into the
farthest recesses of his burrow and
let the winds whistle vainly above
him.
The larger creatures, however, were
less complacent. The wolves —If ani
mals have any powers of foresight
whatever —knew that only hard days,
not luscious nuts and roots, were In
store for them. There would be tnuny
days of hunger once the snow came
over the land. The black bear saw
the signs and begun a desperate effort
to lay tip as many extra pounds of
fat as possible before the snows broke.
He would have need of the extra flesh.
The time was coining when all sources
of food would be cut off by the snows,
und he would have to seek the security
of hibernation. He hud alreudy chos
en an underground abode for himself
and there he could doze away in the
cold-trance through the winter months,
subsisting on the supplies of fat that
he hud stored next to his furry hide.
The greatest of all the bears, the
Killer, knew that some such fute
awuited him also. But he looked for
ward to it with wretched spirit. He
wus master of the forest, and perhaps
he did not like to yield even to the
spirit of winter. His savagery grew
upon him every day, and his dislike
for men had turned to a veritable
hatred. But he had found them out.
When he crossed their trails again,
he would not wait to stalk. They were
apt to slip away from him In this case
and sting him unmercifully with bul
lets. The thing to do was charge
quickly and strike with nllJils power.
The three minor wounds ne had re
ceived —two from pistol bullets and
one from Bruce’s rifle —had not lessened
his strength at nil. They did, how
ever, serve to keep his blood-heat at
the explosive stage most of the day
und night.
The flowers and the grasses were dy
ing; the moths that puid calls on the
Ilotvers had Inid their eggs and had
perished, and winter lurked—ready to
pounce forth—Just beyond the distant
mountains. There is nothing so
thoroughly unreliable us the mountain
autumn. It may linger In entrancing
golds and browns month after month,
until It Is nlmost time for spring to
come again; nud again It may make
one short bow and usher In the winter.
To Bruce and Linda, In the old Fol
ger home In Truil’s End, these fall
days offered the Inst hope of success
lu their war aguinst the Turners.
The adventure in the pasture with
the Killer had handlcapi>ed them to
an unlooked-for degree. Bruce’s
muscles had been severely strained
by the bonds; several days hod
elapsed before he regained their full
use. Linda was a mountain girl,
hardy as a deer, yet her nerves had
suffered a greater shock by the ex
perience than either of them had
guessed. The wild ride, the fear and
the stress, and most of all the base
Mow that Simon had dealt her had
been too much even for her strong
constitution; and she had been obliged
to go to bed for a few days of rest.
Old Elmira worked about the house
the same ns ever, but strange, new
lights were in her eyes. For reasons
th»«t went down to the roots of things,
neither Bruce nor Linda questioned
her as to her scene with Dave Turner
in the coverts; and what thoughts
dwelt In her aged mind neither of
them could guess.
The truth was that In these short
weeks of trial and danger whatever
drendful events had come to pass in
that meeting were worth neither
thought nor words. Both Bruce and
Linda were down to essentials. It Is
a descent that most human beings—
some time In their lives—find they are
able to make; and there was no room
for sentimentality, or hysteria In. this
grim household. The Ideas, the soft
nesses. the laws of the valleys were
far away from them; they were face
to face with realities. Their code had
become the basic code of life: to kill
for self-protection without mercy or
remorse.
They did not know when the Turners
would attack. It was the dark of the
moon, and the men would be able to
approach the house without present
ing themselves as targets for Bruce’s
rifle. The danger was not a thing on
which to conjecture and forget; it
was an ever-present reality. Never
they stepped out of the door, never
they crossed a lighted window, never
a pane rattled In the wind but that
the wings of Death might have been
hovering over them. The days were
passing, the date when the chance for
victory would utterly vanish was al
most at hand, and they were haunted
by the ghastly fact that their .whole
defense lay In a single thirty-thirty
rifle and five cartridges. Bruce’s own
gun had been taken from him In Si
mon’s house; Linda had emptied her
pistol at-the Killer.
“We’ve got to get more shells.**
Bruce told Linda. “The Turners won’t
he such fools as to wait until we have
the moon again, to attack. I can’t
understand why they haven't already
CHEYENNE WELLS RECORD
By EDISON MARSHALL
Author of “The Voice of the Pack”
come. Ot course, they don’t know
the condition of our ammunition sup
ply, hut It doesn’t seem to me that
that aloue would have held them off.
They are sure to come soon, and you
know what we could do with five cart
ridges. don’t you?"
"I know." She looked up Into his
earnest face. "We could die—that s
all.’’
••Yes—like rubldts. Without hurting
them at all. I wouldn't mind dying
so much, If I did plenty of damage
llrst. It’s death for me, anyway. I
suppose—and no one but a fool can
see It otherwise. There are simply
too many against us. But I do want
to make some pnyinent llrst."
Her hand fumbled and groped for
Ids. Her eyes pleaded to him —more
than any words. "And you mean
you’ve given up hope?" she asked.
He smiled down at her—a grave,
strange little smile that moved her
In secret ways. “Not given up hope,
Linda.’’ he wild gently. They were
“And You Mean You've Given Up
Hope?" She Asked.
standing at the door and the sunlight
—coming low from the south—was on
his face. 'Tve never had any hope
to give up—Just realisation of what
lay ahead of us. I'm looking It all
In the face now. Just as I did at first."
“And what you see —makes you
afraid r
Yet she need not have asked that
question. His face gave an unmistak
able answer: that this man had con
quered fear In the terrible night with
the Killer. “Not afraid. Linda," he
explained, “only seeing things as they
really are. There are too many against
us. If we had that great estate be
hind us. with all its wealth, we might
have a chance; If we had an arsenal
of rifles with thousands of cartridges,
we might make a stand against them.
But we are three—two women and one
man—and one rifle between us all. Five
little shells to be expended in five sec
onds. They are seven or eight, each
man armed, each man a rifle shot.
They are certain to attack within a
day or two—before we have the moon
again. In less than two weeks we
can no longer contest their title to the
estate. A little month or two more
and we will be snowed in—with no
chance to get out at all.”
"Perhaps before that.” she told him.
"Yes. Perhaps before that."
They found a ''onfirmation of this
prophecy in the signs of fall without —
the coloring leaves, the dying flowers,
the new. cold breath of the wind. Only
the pines remained unchanged; they
were the same grave sentinels they
always were.
“And you can forgive me?" Linda
asked, humbly.
“Forgive you?" The man turned to
her in surprise. “What have you done
that needs to be forgiven?"
“Oh. don't you see? To bring you
here—out of your cities—to throw your
life away. To enlist you In a fight
that you can't hope to win. I've killed
you, that’s all I’ve done. Perhaps
tonight—perhaps a few days later.”
He nodded gravely.
“And I’ve already killed your smile."
she went on. looking down. “You don’t
smile any more the way you used to.
You’re not the boy you were when you
came. Oh. to think of it—that It’s nil
been my work. To kill your youth,
to lead you into this slaughter pen
where nothing—nothing lives but
death—and hatred—and unhappiness.”
The tears leaped to her eyes. He
caught her hands and pressed them be
tween his until pain came into her
fingers. “Listen. Linda." he command
ed. She looked straight up at him.
“Are you sorry I came?”
“More than I can tell you—for your
sake.”
“But when people look for the truth
In ihis world. I.inda. they don't take
any one’s sake into consideration. They
balance all tlrmrs and give- them their
true worth. Would yea rather that
you anil I had never met—that I hud
never received Elmira's message—that
you should live your life up here with
out ever hearing of me?"
She dropped her eyes. "It Isn’t fair
—l«* ask me that —"
•Tell me the truth. Hasn’t It been
worth while? Even If we lose and
die before this night is done, hasn’t
it all been worth while? Are you sor
ry you have seen me change? Isn’t
tiie* change for the better—a man
grown Instend of a boy? One who
looks straight nud sees clear?’’
He studied her face; and after a
while he found ills answer. It was
not In the form of words at first. As
a man might watch a miracle he
watched a new light come Into her
dark eyes. All the gloom and sorrow
of the wilderness without could not
affect Its quality. It was a light of
joy. of exultation, of new-found
strength.
“You hadn’t ought to ask me that,
Pruce,” she said with a rather strained
distinctness. "It has been like being
born again. There aren’t any words
to tell you what it lias meant to me.
And don’t think I haven’t seen the
change In you, too —the birth of a new
strength that every day Is greater,
higher—until it Is—almost more than
I can understand. The old smiles are
gone, but something else has taken
their place—something much more
dear to me—but what It Is I can hard
ly tell you. Maybe It's something that
the pines have."
But he hadn’t wholly forgotten how
to smile. Ills face lighted as remem
brance came to him. ‘They are a dif
ferent kind of smiles—that’s all," he
explained. "Perhaps there will be
many of them In the days to come.
Linda, I have no regrets. I’ve played
the gnine. Whether it was Destiny
that brought me here, or only chance,
or perhaps —If we take Just life nnd
death Into consideration —Just misfor
tune, whatever It Is I feel no resent
ment toward it. It has been the worth
while adventure. It seems to me that
I can understand the whole world bet
ter than I used to. Maybe I can begin
to see a big purpose and theme run
ning through It all—but it’s not yet
clear enough to put Into words. Cer
tain things In this world are essen
tials. certain other ones are froth. And
I see which things belong to one class
and which to another so much more
clearly than I did before. One of the
things that matters is throwing one’s
whole life Into whatever task he has
set out to do—whether he fails or suc
ceeds doesn’t seem greatly to matter.
The main thing. It appears to me, is
that he has tried. To stand strong
and kind of calm, and not be afraid —
if I con always do It, Linda, It Is all I
ask for myself. Not to flinch now.
Not to give uo as long as I have the
strength for another step. And to
have you with me—all the way.’’
’Then you nnd I —take fresh heart?’’
"We’ve never lost heart, Linda."
"Not to give up, but only be glad
we’ve tried?”
“Yes. And keep on trying."
"With no regrets?"
"None—and maybe to borrow a little
strength from the pines!"
This was their new pact. To stand
firm and strong and unflinching, and
never to yield as long as an ounce of
strength remained. As if to seal it,
her arms crept about his neck and
her soft lips pressed his.
CHAPTER XXV
Toward the end of the afternoon
Linda saddled nnd rode down the trail
toward Martin’s store. She had con
siderable business to attend to. Among
other things, she was going to buy
thirty-thirty cartridges—all that Mar
tin had In 9tock. She had some hope
of securing an extra gun or two with
shells to match. The additional space
in her pack was to be filled with pro
visions.
For she was faced with the unpleas
ant fact that her larder was nearly
empty. The Jerked venison was al
most gone; only a little flour and a
few canned things remained. She had
space for only small supplies on the
horse’s back, and there would be no
luxuries among them. Their fare had
been plain up to this time; hut from
now on It wns to consist of only such
things as were absolutely necessary to
sustain life.
She rode unarmed. Without Inform
ing him of the fact, the rifle had been
left for Bruce. She did not expect
for herself a rifle shot from ambush
—for the simple reason that Simon had
bidden otherwise—and Bruce might be
attacked at any moment.
She was dreaming dreams, that duy.
The talk with Bruce had given her
fresh heart, nnd as she rode down the
sunlit trail the future opeued up en
trancing vistas to her. Perhnps they
yet could conquer, and that would
mean re-establishment on the far-flung
lands of her father. Matthew Folger
had possessed a fertile farm also, and
its green pastures might still be util
ized. It suddenly occurred to her that
It would be of Interest *o turn off
the main trail, take a little dim path
up the ridge that she had discovered
years before, and look over these lands
The hour was early ; besides. Brace
would find her report of the greatest
Interest. . ,
She Jogged slowly along In ths west
ern fashion—which means something
quite different from army fashion or
sportsman fashion. Western riders do
not post. lUdlng Is not exercise to
them; it Is rest. They hang limp in
the saddle, and all Jar Is taken Up,
If by a spring, somewhere In the region,
of the floating ribs that only a physi
cian can correctly designate. They
never sit Arm, these western riders,
and ns a rule their riding Is not a par
ticularly graceful thing to watch. But
they do not care greatly about grace
as long ns they may encompass their
fifty miles a day and still be fresh
enough for a country dance at night.
There are many other differences In
western and eastern riding, one of
them being the way in which the
horse Is mounted. Another difference
Is the riding habit. Linda had no trim
riding trousers, with tall, glossy boots,
red coat and stock. It was rather
doubtful whether she knew such things
existed. She did, however, wear a
trim riding skirt of khaki and a middle
blouse washed spotlessly clean by her
own hands; and no one would have
missed the other things. It is an In
disputable fact that she made a rather
alluring picture—eyes bright and hair
dark and strong arms bare to the el
t,ow _ us B he came riding down the
pine-needle trail.
She came to the opening of the dim
mer trail and turned down It. Sh»*
entered a still glen, and the color In
her cheeks and the soft brown of her
arms bleLded well with the new tints
of the autumn leaves. Then she turned
up a long ridge.
The trail led through an old burn —
a bleak, eerie place where the fire had
swept down the forest, leaving only
strange, black palings here and there
—and she stopped in the middle of It
to look down. The mountain world
was laid out below her as clearly ns
in a relief map. Her eyes lighted as
its beuuty and its fearsomeness went
home to her, and her keen eyes slowly
swept over the surrounding hill tops.
Then for a long moment she sat very
still In the saddle.
A thousand feet distant, on the same
ridge on which she rode, she caught
sight of another horse. It held her
gaze, and in an Instant she discerned
the rather startling fact that It was
saddled, bridled, and apparently tied
to a tree. Momentarily she thought
that Its rider was probably one of the
Turners who was at present at work
on the old Folger farm; yet she knew
at once the tilled lands were still too
for distant for that. She studied close
ly the maze of light and shadow of the
underbrush and in a moment more dis
tinguished the figure of the horseman.
It was one of the Turners—but he
was not working in the fields. He was
standing near the animal’s head, back
to her, and his rifle lay In his arms.
And then Linda understood.
He was simply guarding the trail
down to Martin’s store. Except for the
fact that she had turned off the main
trail by no possibility could she have
seen him and escaped whatever fate
he hud for her.
She held hard on her faculties and
tried to puzzle It out. She understood
now why the Turners had not ns yet
made an attack upon them at their
home. It wasn't the Turner way to
wage open warfare. They were the
wolves that struck from ambush, the
rattlesnakes that lunged with poisoned
fangs from beneath the rocks. There
was some security for her in the Folger
home, but none whatever here. There
she had a strong man to fight for her.
a loaded rifle, and under ordinary con
ditions the Turners could not hope to
batter down the oaken door and over
whelm them without at least some loss
of life. For all they knew, Bruce hnd
a large stock of rifles and ammunition
Bhe Wai Dreaming Dreams.
—«nd the Turners did not look for
ward with pleasure to casualties In
their ranks. The much simpler woy
was to watch the trail.
They had known that sooner or
later one of them would attempt to
ride down after either supplies or aid.
l.inda was a mountain girl and she
know the mountain methods of proce
dure ; and she knew quite well whot
she would have had to expect If she
had not discovered the ambush In time.
Sne didn't think that the sentry would
actually fire on her; he would merely
shoot the horse from beneath her. It
would be a simple teat by the least
of the Turners—for these gaunt men
were marksmen. If nothing else. It
wouldn't be In accord with Simon’s
Plan or desire to leave her body lying
■till on tlio trnil.
flight would be
would transpire Oiereut« J?
dura to think. She hud
Simon's threat I„ h
to go down l„t„ tl,“
knew that It Mill o
Of course, if Brace ni,To
■Ion, the sentry's
snmewhut different h, **
hint down us retnorselessl.!!?
shutter u lynx from u tt 'I*
The truth was that by.
guessed Just right, "if, ,r*
wny,” Simon hud said. .if!
trying to get out In n ven t!?
If the mun—shoot straight J!
If Linda, plug the
here behind the suddle"
I.lndu turned softly'
back. She did not ev'eu
onds thought to the foil,..'
break through. She wately u
tlnel over her shoulder and .
turn about. p ar .Hstunt Us!
was, she could tell by tUeZ.
he made that he had thicojZ?
She was almost four hundy
away by nil she
horse Into a gallop. The Z
to her to halt, a sound that a!
and strange through the bm
then a bullet sent up u cloud J
u few feet to one sile, Rut
was too fur even for the Turwn
she only urged her horse to.
pnce.
She flow down the narrow
turned Into the main trail lo i
loped wildly toward home.’ Bw
sentry did not follow her. He*
his precious lif<* too much for
He hud no intention of offeria#
self ns n target to Bruce’s rim,
neared the house. lie headed k
report to Simon.
•Young Bill—for such had bta
Identity of the sentry—found hit
In the large field not far distant
where Bruce had been confinrt
man was supervising the ham*
fall growth of alfalfa. The twi
walked slowly away from then
towardTfie fringe of wood*.
“It looks as if we’ll havetei
rough measures, after all,”
began.
Simon turned with flnihl*
“Do you mean you let him pt
you—and missed him? Youi*l
you’ve done that—’’
“Won’t you wait till I’ve told
how It happened? It wasn’t Bm
was Linda. For some reason 1
dope out, she went up In the bif
back of me and saw me—whn|
too far olT to shoot her horse,
she rode hack like a witch. Q
not take that trail again.”
“It means one of two thlngn,"8
said after a pause. “One of tka
to starve ’em out. It won’t tiktl
Their supplies won’t last forertt
other Is to call t he clan and in
tonight."
“And that means loss of lift*
“Not necessarily. I don’tImtv
many guns they've got. Ifinyrf
were worth your snlt, you’d M
those things. I wish Davevul
And Simon spoke the truth for
In his life; he did miss Dave. I
was not that there had been uj
lost between them. Hut the troll
—although Simon never would
admitted it—the weaker man'*(l
had been of the greatest aid I
chief. Simon needed it sorely M
“And we can’t wait till t»i
night—because we’ve got tb#
then," Young Bill added. "Jo*!
moon, but it will prevent a*
attnek. I suppose you still binl
of Dave coming hack?”
“I don't see why not. m s
to soy now he’s off on some good|
of business —doing somethin?*
the rest of you have thought of.
come riding hack one of the*
with something actually accoopH
I see no reason for thinking t*t
dead. Bruce hasn’t had any d
at him that 1 know of. But If I®
lie was—thore’d he no more*
We’d tear down that nest toolfl
Simon spoke in his usnil"
with the same emphasis, the ■**
dertones of pa sum. The tret*
that he had slowly heroine in"'
Young Bill was not giving him »•
attention, but rather was S™
unfamiliar speculation " u "
toward the forests beyond.
Simon's Impulse was to
gaze; yet he would 1101 I 1 '”.
“Well?" he demanded. ‘I“ m
lag to amuse myself.'’
The younger man sccinM'•
His eyes were half-closed;, srt
was a strange look of inten
his facial lines when h *
to Simon, "You haven't tis»
stock?" he asked abrupt 1 ?- f
Simon's eyes widened. •
“Look there— over to'
Young Bill pointed. Sltno
his eyes from the suaKt £»
studied .be blue-green
the fringe of pines.
grotesque, black bird
slow wings above ti e P° g,
then they dropped do»“-
behind the trees. .
“Buzzards!" Simon eldSP»
-Yes." Young BUI ■"»«£?
"You see, it isn t in' „ (
from Kolgcr's house-la ,
woods. There s son'I
Simon. And I thin*
to see what it Is-" sum I
"You think— ™ | tb id
tnted and looked «*” |(J tt*
Ing eyes toward th «
“1 think —thnt may”
to And Dave," YoungBHIw^
"And
touch Linda.”
A Thought for JJ,
-You must ‘'"''“Zrti*
which cannot bo