Kyne Peter B - Kindred of the Dust

7/27/2019 Kyne Peter B - Kindred of the Dust

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Title: Kindred of the Dust

Author: Peter B. Kyne

Release Date: September 26, 200eBook #13532]

Language: English

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GUTENBERG EBOOK KINDRED OFTHE DUST***

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KINDRED OFTHE DUST


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BY


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PETER B. KYNE

AUTHOR OF

CAPPY RICKS, THE VALLEY OF THE

GIANTS, WEBSTERMAN'S MAN, ETC

ILLUSTRATED BY

DEAN CORNWELL1920


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TO IRENE

MY DEAR, TYRANNICAL

PRACTICAL LITTLE FOSTER-SISTER

WITHOUT WHOSE AID ANDCOMFORT, HOOTS, CHEERS AND

UNAUTHORIZED STRIKES, THE

QUANTITY AND QUALITY OF MY

ALLEGED LITERARY OUTPUT

WOULD BE APPRECIABLY

DIMINISHED, THIS BOOK I

AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED


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CONTENTS

CHAPTER I

CHAPTER II

CHAPTER IIICHAPTER IV

CHAPTER V

CHAPTER VI

CHAPTER VIICHAPTER VIII

CHAPTER IX

CHAPTER X

CHAPTER XI

CHAPTER XII

CHAPTER XIII

CHAPTER XIV


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CHAPTER XV

CHAPTER XVI

CHAPTER XVII

CHAPTER XVIIICHAPTER XIX

CHAPTER XX

CHAPTER XXI

CHAPTER XXII

CHAPTER XXIII

CHAPTER XXIV

CHAPTER XXVCHAPTER XXVI

CHAPTER XXVIII

CHAPTER XXIX

CHAPTER XXXCHAPTER XXXI

CHAPTER XXXII

CHAPTER XXXIII


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THE

ILLUSTRATIONS

Hector McKaye was bre

of an acquisitive race

She stole to the old squar

piano and sang for him

Donald bowed his head, "

can't give her up, father"

"I'm a man without a hom

and you've justgotto take m

in, Nan"


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Whenever The Laird put his dream

behind him, he always looked seaward. I

he course of time, his home-boun

skippers, sighting the white house on thheadland and knowing that The Laird wa

apt to be up there watching, formed th

habit of doing something that pleased thei

owner mightily. When the northwesrades held steady and true, and while th

ide was still at the flood, they woul

scorn the services of the tug that went ou

o meet them and come ramping into th

bight, all their white sails set and the glor

of the sun upon them; as they swept past

far below The Laird, they would dip hihouse-flaga burgee, scarlet-edged, wit

a fir tree embroidered in green on a fiel

of whitethe symbol to the world tha

here was a McKaye ship. And when th


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house-flag fluttered half-way to the dec

and climbed again to the masthead, th

soul of Hector McKaye would thrill.

"Guid lads! My bonny brave lads!" h

would murmur aloud, with just a touch o

his parents' accent, and press a butto

which discharged an ancient brass cannomounted at the edge of the cliff. Wheneve

he saw one of his ships in the offingan

he could identify his ships as far as h

could see themhe ordered the gardeneo load this cannon.

Presently the masters began to dip th

house-flag when outward bound, andiscovered that, whether The Laird sat a

his desk in the mill office or watched fro

he cliff, they drew an answering salute.


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This was their hail and farewell.

One morning, the barkentine Hathor

owing out for Delagoa Bay, dipped hehouse-flag, and the watch at their station

bent their gaze upon the house on the cliff

Long they waited but no answering salut

greeted the acknowledgment of theiaffectionate and willing service.

The mate's glance met the master's.

"The old laird must be unwell, sir," h

opined.

But the master shook his head.

"He was to have had dinner aboard wit

us last night, but early in the afternoon h

sent over word that he'd like to b

excused. He's sick at heart, poor man


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Daney tells me he's heard the town gossi

about young Donald."

"The lad's a gentleman, sir," the matdefended. "He'll not disgrace his people."

"He's youngand youth must be served

Man, I was young myself onceand Na

of the Sawdust Pile is not a woman

young man would look at once and go hi

way."

In the southwestern corner of the state o

Washington, nestled in the Bight of Tyee

and straddling the Skookum River, lies thittle sawmill town of Port Agnew. It is a

community somewhat difficult to locate

for the Bight of Tyee is not of sufficien

mportance as a harbor to have wo


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consideration by the cartographers of th

Coast and Geodetic Survey, and Por

Agnew is not quite forty years old

Consequently, it appears only on the veratest state maps and in the smalles

possible type.

When Hector McKaye first gazed upohe bight, the transcontinental lines had no

yet begun to consider the thrusting of thei

entacles into southwestern Washington

and, with the exception of those regionwhere good harbors had partially solve

he problem of transportation, timber i

Washington was very cheap

Consequently, since Hector McKaye waone of those hardy men who never hesitat

o take that which no man denies them, h

reached forth and acquired timber.


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A strip of land a quarter of a mile wid

and fronting the beach was barren o

commercial timber. As grazing-land

Hector McKaye was enabled to file on full section of this, and, with it

acquisition, he owned the key to the outlet

While "proving up" his claim, he operate

a general store for trading with the Indianand trappers, and at this he prospered

From time to time he purchased timber

claims from the trappers as fast as the

"proved up," paying for these stumpage

prices varying from twenty-five to fift

cents per thousand.

On his frequent trips to the outer worldMcKaye extolled the opportunities fo

acquiring good timber-claims down on th

Skookum; he advertised them in letter


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and in discreet interviews with the editor

of little newspapers in the sawmill town

on Puget Sound and Grays Harhor; he let i

be known that an honest fellow coulsecure credit for a winter's provision

from him, and pay for it with pelts in th

spring.

The influx of homesteaders increased

single men, for the most part, and poor

men who labored six months of the yea

elsewhere and lived the remaining simonths in rude log huts on their claim

down on the Skookum. And when th

requirements of the homestead laws ha

been complied with and a patent to theiquarter-section obtained from the Lan

Office in Washington, the homesteader

were ready to sell and move on to othe


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and greener pastures. So they sold to th

only possible purchaser, Hector McKaye

and departed, quite satisfied with a profi

which they flattered themselves had beehe result of their own prudence an

foresight.

Thus, in the course of ten years, HectoMcKaye' acquired ten thousand acres o

splendid Douglas fir and white cedar. Bu

he had not been successful in acquirin

claims along the south bank of thSkookum. For some mysterious reason, h

soon found claims on the north ban

cheaper and easier to secure, albeit th

imber showed no variance in quantity oquality. Discreet investigations brought to

ight the fact that he had a competitor

one Martin Darrow, who dwelt in St


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ncorporated the Tyee Lumber Company

and founded his town of Port Agnew

before Darrow began operations.

True to his promise, McKaye deeded

him a mill-and town-site, and he founde

a settlement on the eastern edge of Por

Agnew, but quite distinct from it, andcalled it Darrow, after himself. It was no

a community that Hector McKay

approved of, for it was squalid an

unsanitary, and its untidy, unpaintedshacks of rough lumber harbored souther

European labor, of which Hector McKay

would have none. In Darrow, also, ther

were three groggeries and a gamblinghouse, with the usual concomitant o

women whose profession is the oldest an

he saddest in the world.


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Following his discovery of the Bight o

Tyee, a quarter of a century passed. A ma

may prosper much in twenty-five years

and Hector McKaye, albeit Americaborn, was bred of an acquisitive race

When his Gethsemane came upon him, h

was rated the richest lumberman in th

state of Washington; his twenty-thousandboard-feet capacity per day sawmill ha

grown to five hundred thousand, his te

housand acres to a hundred thousand

Two thousand persons looked to him and

his enterprise for their bread and butter

he owned a fleet of half a dozen steam

schooners and sixteen big wind-jammershe owned a town which he had called Por

Agnew, and he had married and bee

blessed with children. And because hi

ambition no longer demanded it, he wa


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HECTOR MCKAYE WAS

BRED OF AN

ACQUISITIVE RACE.

In a word, he was a happy man, and i

affectionate pride and as a tribute to hi

might, his name and an occasional forgetme-not of speech which clung to hi

ongue, heritage of his Scotch forebears

his people called him "The Laird o

Tyee." Singularly enough, his characte

fitted this cognomen rather wel

Reserved, proud, independent, an

sensitive, thinking straight and talkinstraight, a man of brusque yet tende

sentiment which was wont to manifes

tself unexpectedly, it had been said o

him that in a company of a hundred of hi


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mental, physical, and financial peers, h

would have stood forth preeminently an

distinctively, like a lone tree on a hill.

Although The Laird loved his town o

Port Agnew, because he had created it, he

had not, nevertheless, resided in it fo

some years prior to the period at whichis chronicle begins. At the very apex o

he headland that shelters the Bight o

Tyee, in a cuplike depression severa

acres in extent, on the northern side andeally situated two hundred feet below

he crest, thus permitting the howlin

southeasters to blow over it, Hecto

McKaye, in the fulness of time, had builfor himself a not very large two-stor

house of white stone native to the locality

This house, in the center of beautiful an


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This room Hector McKaye enjoyed bes

of all things in life, with the exception o

his family; of his family, his son Donald

was nearest and dearest to him. This bohe loved with a fierce and hungry love

ntensified, doubtless, because to th

young Laird of Tyee, McKaye was stil

he greatest hero in the world. To his wifeThe Laird was no longer a hero, althoug

n the old days of the upward climb, whe

he had fiercely claimed her and supporte

her by the sweat of his brow, he had been

something akin to a god. As for Elizabeth

and Jane, his daughters, it must b

recorded that both these young women haong since ceased to regard their father a

anything except an unfailing source o

revenuean old dear who clung to Por

Agnew, homely speech, and homely ways


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gratified it once worked hard with hi

hands, spoke the language and acquire

he habits of his comrades in the battle fo

existence.

Of course, Elizabeth and Jane woul

have resented this analysis of their menta

attitude toward their father. Be that as imay, however, the fact remained that both

girls were perfunctory in their expression

of affection for their father, but wildl

extravagant in them where their mothewas concerned. Hector McKaye liked i

so. He was a man who never thought abou

himself, and he had discovered that if h

gave his wife and daughters everythinhey desired, he was not apt to be nagged.

Only on one occasion had Hecto

McKaye declared himself master in hi


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suburb of Seattle. Elizabeth and Jan

aided and abetted her in clamoring for

Seattle home, although both were quick t

note the advantages of a picturesqucountry home on the cliffs above the bight

They urged their father to build his house

but condemned his plans. They desired

house some three times larger than thblue-prints called for.

Hector McKaye said nothing. Th

women chattered and argued amonhemselves until, Elizabeth and Jan

having vanquished their mother, all thre

moved briskly to the attack upon Th

Laird. When they had talked themselveout and awaited a reply, he gave it with

he simple directness of his nature. It wa

evident that he had given his answe


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hought.

"I can never live in Seattle until I retire

and I cannot retire until Donald takes mplace in the business. That means tha

Donald must live here. Consequently,

shall spend half of my time with you an

he girls in Seattle, mother, and the othehalf with Donald here. When we built ou

first home, you had your wayand I'v

ived in this architectural horror eve

since. This time, I'm going to have my owwayand you've lived with me lon

enough to know that when I declare for

will of my own, I'll not be denied. Well

realize you and the girls have outgrowPort Agnew. There's naught here to

nterest you, and I would not have woma

o' mine unhappy. So plan your house in


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disposed of, and since it was not possibl

o burn this in the slab fire for the reaso

hat the wet sawdust blanketed the flame

and resulted in a profusion of smoke thablew back upon the mill to the annoyanc

of the employees, for many years Th

Laird had caused this accumulate

sawdust to be hauled to the edge of thbight on the north side of the town, an

here dumped in a low, marshy spot whic

formerly had bred millions of mosquitoes

Subsequently, in the process of gradin

he streets of Port Agnew and excavatin

cellars, waste dirt had been dumped wit

he sawdust, and, occasionally, when higwinter tides swept over the spot, sand

small stones, sea-shells, and kelp wer

added to the mixture. And as if this wer


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not sufficient, the citizens of Port Agnew

contributed from time to time old barrel

and bottles, yard-sweepings, tin cans, an

superannuated stoves and kitchen utensils

Slowly this dump crept out on the beach

and in order to prevent the continuou

attrition of the surf upon the outer edge ot from befouling the white-sand bathing

beach farther up the Bight of Tyee, The

Laird had driven a double row of fi

piling parallel with and beyond the line obreakers. This piling, driven as clos

ogether as possible and reenforced wit

wo-inch planking between, formed

bulkhead with the flanks curving in to thbeach, thus insuring practically a water

ight pen some two acres in extent; and

with the passage of years, this becam


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from filling, he had the pipes from th

dredger run out to the Sawdust Pile an

covered the unsightly spot with six feet o

rich river-silt up to the level of the piling.

"And now," said Hector McKaye to

Andrew Daney, his general manager

"when that settles, we'll run a light tracout here and use the Sawdust Pile for

drying-yard."

The silt settled and dried, and almosmmediately thereafter a squatter too

possession of the Sawdust Pile. Acros

he neck of the little promontory, and i

ine with extreme high-water mark on eacside, he erected a driftwood fence; he ha

a canvas, driftwood, and corrugated-iro

shanty well under way when Hecto

McKaye appeared on the scene and bad


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him a pleasant good-morning.

The squatter turned from his labor an

bent upon his visitor an appraising glanceHis scrutiny appearing to satisfy him as t

he identity of the latter, he straightened

suddenly and touched his forelock in

queer little salute that left one in doubwhether he was a former member of th

United States navy or the Britis

mercantile marine. He was a threadbar

ittle man, possibly sixty years old, with russet, kindly countenance and mild blu

eyes; apart from his salute, there wa

about him an intangible hint of the sea. H

was being assisted in his labors by ragamuffin girl of perhaps thirteen years.

"Thinking of settling in Port Agnew?

The Laird inquired.


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The ragamuffin girl, her head slightly t

one side, had been regarding Hecto

McKaye with alert curiosity mingled wit

furtive apprehension. As he glanced at henow, she remembered her manners and

dropped him a courtesyan electric, half

defiant jerk that reminded The Laird of

similar greeting customarily extended bsquinch-owls.

Nan was not particularly clean, and he

one-piece dress, of heavy blue navyuniform cloth was old and worn an

spotted. Over this dress she wore a boy'

coarse red-worsted sweater with white

pearl buttons. The skin of her thin necwas fine and creamy; the calves, of he

bare brown legs were shapely, her fee

small, her ankles dainty.


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"No; my daughter, sir. I was forty when

married, and Nan came ten years later

She's thirteen now, and her mother's been

dead ten years."

Hector McKaye had an idea that th

departed mother was probably just a

well, if not better, off, free of the battle foexistence which appeared to confront thi

futile old man and his elf of a daughter. H

glanced at the embryo shack unde

construction and, comparing it with hiown beautiful home on Tyee Head, he

urned toward the bight. A short distance

off the bulkhead, he observed a staunc

forty-foot motor-cruiser at anchor. Shwould have been the better for a coat o

paint; undeniably she was of a piece wit

Caleb Brent and Nan, for, like them, Th


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service, sirand I was in the mercantil

marine at sixteen. I've served my time as

shipwright. Amam I intruding here

sir?"

The Laird smiled, and followed th

smile with a brief chuckle.

"Wellyes and no. I haven't any title to

his land you've elected to occupy

although I created it. You see, I'm sort o

ord of creation around here. My peoplcall me 'The Laird of Tyee,' and nobody

but a stranger would have had the courag

o squat on the Sawdust Pile withou

consulting me. What's your idea about itBrent?"

"I'll go if you want me to, sir."


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"I mean what's your idea if you stay

What do you expect to do for a living?"

"You will observe, sir, that I havefenced off only that portion of the dump

beyond high-water mark. That takes i

about half of itabout an acre and a half

Well, I thought I'd keep some chickens andraise some garden truck. This silt wil

grow anything. And I have my launch, and

can do some towing, maybe, or tak

fishing parties out. I might supply the towwith fish. I understand you import you

fish from Seattleand with the sea righ

here at your door."

"I see. And you have your three-quarter

pay as a retired chief petty officer?"

"Yes, sir."


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"Anything in bank? I do not ask thes

personal questions, Brent, out of mere idl

curiosity. This is my town, you know, and

here is no poverty in it. I'm rather prouof that, so I"

"I understand, sir. That's why I came to

Port Agnew. I saw your son yesterdayand he said I could stay."

"Oh! Well, that's all right, then. I

Donald told you to stay, stay you shallDid he give you the Sawdust Pile?"

"Yes, sir; he did!"

"Well, I had other plans for it, Brent; busince you're here, I'll offer no objection."

Nan now piped up.


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"We haven't any money in bank, Mr

Laird, but we have some saved up."

"Indeed! That's encouraging. Where dyou keep it?"

"In the brown teapot in the galley. We'v

got a hundred and ten dollars."

"Well, my little lady, I think you migh

do well to take your hundred and te

dollars out of the brown teapot in th

galley and deposit it in the Port Agnew

bank. Suppose that motor-cruiser shoul

spring a leak and sink?"

Nan smiled and shook her golden hean negation. They had beaten round Cap

Flattery in that boat, and she ha

confidence in it.


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"Would you know my boy if you should

see him again, Nan?" The Laird demande

suddenly.

"Oh, yes, indeed, sir! He's such a nic

boy."

"I think, Nan, that if you asked him, h

might help your father build this house."

"I'll see him this afternoon when h

comes out of high school," Nan declared.

"You might call on Andrew Daney, my

general manager," The Laird continued

urning to Caleb Brent, "and make a dicke

with him for hauling our garbage-scow ouo sea and dumping it. I observe that you

motor-boat is fitted with towing-bitts. We

dump twice a week. And you may have


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monopoly on fresh fish if you desire it

We have no fishermen here, because I do

not care for Greeks and Sicilians in Por

Agnew. And they're about the onlyfishermen on this coast."

"Thank you, Mr. McKaye."

"Mind you don't abuse your monopoly. I

you do, I'll take it away from you."

"You are very kind, sir. And I can have

he Sawdust Pile, sir?"

"Yes; since Donald gave it to you

However, I wish you'd tear down tha

patchwork fence and replace it with decent job the instant you can afford it."

"Ah, just wait," old Brent promised. "

know how to make things neat and prett


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and keep them shipshape. You just keep

your eye on the Sawdust Pile, sir." Th

old wind-bitten face flushed with pride

he faded sea-blue eyes shone with joyouanticipation. "I've observed your pride i

your town, sir, and before I get through

'll have a prettier place than the best o

hem."

A few days later, The Laird looked

across the Bight of Tyee from his home on

Tyee Head, and through his marine glassestudied the Sawdust Pile. He chuckled a

he observed that the ramshackle shant

had disappeared almost as soon as it ha

been started and in its place a smalcottage was being erected. There was

pile of lumber in the yardbright lumber

fresh from the sawsand old Caleb Bren


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and the motherless Nan were bein

assisted by two carpenters on the Tyee

Lumber Company's pay-roll.

When Donald came home from schoo

hat night, The Laird asked him about th

nhabitants of the Sawdust Pile wit

relation to the lumber and the twcarpenters.

"Oh, I made a trade with Mr. Brent and

an. I'm to furnish the lumber anfurniture for the house, and those tw

carpenters weren't very busy, so Mr

Daney told me I could have them to help

out. In return, Mr. Brent is going to buildme a sloop and teach me how to sail it."

The Laird nodded.


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"When his little home is completed

Donald," he suggested presently, "yo

might take old Brent and his girl over t

our old house in town and let them havwhat furniture they require. See if yo

cannot manage to saw off some of you

mother's antiques on them," adde

whimsically. "By the way, what kind oshanty is old Brent going to build?"

"A square house with five rooms and

cupola fitted up like a pilot-house. There'o be a flagpole on the cupola, and Na

says they'll have colors every night an

morning. That means that you hoist the fla

n the morning and salute it, and when yohaul it down at night, you salute it again

They do that up at the Bremerton navy

yard."


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"That's rather a nice, sentimental idea,

Hector McKaye replied. "I rather like ol

Brent and his girl for that. We American

are too prone to take our flag and what istands for rather lightly."

"Nan wants me to have colors up here

oo," Donald continued. "Then she can seour flag, and we can see theirs across th

bight."

"All right," The Laird answereheartily, for he was always profoundl

nterested in anything that interested hi

boy. "I'll have the woods boss get out

nice young cedar with, say, a twelve-incbutt, and we'll make it into a flagpole."

"If we're going to do the job navy

fashion, we ought to fire a sunrise an


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sunset gun," Donald suggested with all th

enthusiasm of his sixteen years.

"Well, I think we can afford that, tooDonald."

Thus it came about that the little bras

cannon was installed on its concrete bas

on the cliff. And when the flagpole had

been erected, old Caleb Brent came u

one day, built a little mound of smooth

sea-washed cobblestones round the baseand whitewashed them. Evidently he wa

a prideful little man, and liked to se

hings done in a seamanlike manner. And

presently it became a habit with The Lairo watch night and morning, for the littl

pin-prick of color to flutter forth from th

house on the Sawdust Pile, and if his ow

colors did not break forth on the instan


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and the little cannon boom from the cliff

he was annoyed and demanded a

explanation.


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III

Hector McKaye and his close-mouthe

general manager, Andrew Daney, were thonly persons who knew the extent of Th

Laird's fortune. Even their knowledge wa

approximate, however, for The Laird

disliked to delude himself, and carried o

his books at their cost-price propertie

which had appreciated tremendously i

value since their purchase. The knowledg

of his wealth brought to McKaye a goodl

measure of happinessnot because h

was of Scottish ancestry and had inherite

a love for his baubees, but because he wa


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descended from a fierce, proud Scottis

clan and wealth spelled independence t

him and his.

The Laird would have filled his cup o

happiness to overflowing had he marrie

a less mediocre woman or had he raise

his daughters as he had his son. The girlsupbringing had been left entirely in thei

mother's hands. Not so with youn

Donald, howeverwherefore it was

byword in Port Agnew that Donald wahis father's son, a veritable chip of the ol

block.

By some uncanny alchemy, hard casappears to soften the heads and relax th

muscles of rich men's sonsat least, suc

had been old Hector's observation, and o

he instant that he first gazed upon the fac


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of his son, there had been born in him

mighty resolve that, come what might, h

would not have it said of him that he ha

made a fool of his boy. And throughout theglad years of his fatherhood, with the ster

piety of his race and his faith, he had knel

night and morning beside his bed an

prayed his God to help him not to make fool of Donaldto keep Donald fro

making a fool of himself.

When Donald entered Princeton, hifather decided upon an experiment. H

had raised his boy right, and trained hi

for the race of life, and now The Laird fel

hat, like a thoroughbred horse, his sofaced the barrier. Would he make the run

or would he, in the parlance of th

sporting world, "dog it?" Would his fou


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years at a great American university mak

of him a better man, or would h

degenerate into a snob and a drone?

With characteristic courage, The Laird

decided to give him ample opportunity t

become either, for, as old Hecto

remarked to Andrew Daney: "If the lad'he McKaye I think he is, nothing can har

him. On the other hand, if I'm mistaken,

want to know it in time, for my money an

my Port Agnew Lumber Company is rust, and if he can't handle it, I'll leave i

o the men who canwho've helped m

create itand Donald shall earn his brea

by the sweat of his brow. Tools," headded, "belong to the men that can us

hem."

When Donald started East for college


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old Hector accompanied him as far a

Seattle. On the way up, there was som

man-talk between them. In his youth, ol

Hector had not been an angel, which is tstate that he had been a lumberjack. H

knew men and the passions that beset the

particularly when they are young an

ustyand he was far from being a prudeHe expected his son to raise a certai

amount of wild oats; nay, he desired it, fo

full well he knew that when the fires o

youth are quenched, they are liable to flar

disgracefully in middle life or old age.

"Never pig it, my son," was his fina

admonition. "Raise hell if you must, but iyou love your old father, be a gentleman

about it. You've sprung from a clan o

men, not mollycoddles."


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"Hence the expression: 'When Hecto

was a pup,'" Donald replied laughingly

"Well, I'll do my best, fatheronly, if

stub my toe, you mustn't be too hard ome. Remember, please, that I'm only hal

Scotch."

At parting, The Laird handed his son check for twenty-five thousand dollars.

"This is the first year's allowance

Donald," he informed the boy gravely. "Ishould not require more than a hundre

housand dollars to educate a son of mine

and you must finish in four years. I woul

not care to think you dull or lazy."

"Do you wish an accounting, father?"

The Laird shook his head.


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"Keeping books was ever a sorry trade

my son. I'll read the accounting in your ey

when you come back to Port Agnew."

"Oh!" said young Donald.

At the end of four years, Donal

graduated, an honor-man in all his studies

and in the lobby of the gymnasium, wher

he athletic heroes of Princeton leave thei

record to posterity, Hector McKaye read

his son's name, for, of course, he wahere for commencement. Then they spen

a week together in New York, following

which old Hector announced that on

week of New York was about all he couldstand. The tall timber was calling for him

"Hoot, mon!" Donald protested gaily

He was a perfect mimic of Sir Harr


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Lauder at his broadest. "Y'eve nae had

bit holiday in all yer life. Wha' spier ye

Hector McKaye, to a trip aroond th

worl', wi' a wee visit tae the auld clan ihe Hielands?"

"Will you come with me, son?" Th

Laird inquired eagerly.

"Certainly not! You shall come with me

This is to be my party."

"Can you stand the pressure? I'm liabl

o prove an expensive travelin

companion."

"Well, there's something radicallywrong with both of us if we can't get by o

wo hundred thousand dollars, dad."

The Laird started, and then his Scotc


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sense of humorand, for all the fame

wit of the Irish, no humor on earth is s

unctuous as that of the Scotch

commenced to bubble up. He suspected oke on himself and was prepared to mee

t.

"Will you demand an accounting, mson?"

Donald shook his head.

"Keeping books was ever a sorry trade

father, I'll read the accounting in your ey

when you get back to Port Agnew."

"You braw big scoundrel! You've beenup to something. Tell it me, man, or I'll di

wi' the suspense of it."

"Well," Donald replied, "I lived on


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wenty-five hundred a year in college an

ed a happy life. I had a heap of fun, an

nothing went by me so fast that I didn't a

east get a tail-feather. My collegeducation, therefore, cost me ten thousan

dollars, and I managed to squeeze

roadster automobile into that, also. Wit

he remaining ninety thousand, I took flier in thirty-nine hundred acres of re

cedar up the Wiskah River. I paid for it on

he instalment plan yearly payment

secured by first mortgage at six per cent

and"

"Who cruised it for you?" The Lair

almost shouted. "I'll trust no cruiser bumy own David McGregor."

"I realized that, so I engaged Dave fo

he job. You will recall that he and I took


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a two months' camping-trip after my firs

year in Princeton. It cruised eight

housand feet to the acre, and I paid tw

dollars and a half per thousand for it. Ocourse, we didn't succeed in cruising hal

of it, but we rode through the remainder

and it all averaged up very nicely. And

saw a former cruise of it made by disinterested cruiser"

The Laird had been doing menta

arithmetic.

"It cost you seven hundred and eight

housand dollarsand you've paid ninet

housand, principal and interest, oaccount. Why, you didn't have th

customary ten per cent, of the purchase

price as an initial payment!"


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"The owner was anxious to sel

Besides, he knew I was your son, and

suppose he concluded that, after gettin

ninety thousand dollars out of me at thend of three years, you'd have to come t

my rescue when the balance fell duein

ump. If you didn't, of course he coul

foreclose."

"I'll save you, my son. It was a goo

deala splendid deal!"

"You do not have to, dad. I've sold it

at a profit of an even two hundre

housand dollars!"

"Lad, why did you do it? Why didn't yo

ake me into your confidence? That ceda

s worth three and a half. In a few years

twill be worth five."


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"I realized that, father, buta bird in th

hand is worth two in the bushand I'm

proud sort of devil. I didn't want to run t

you for help on my first deal, even thougknew you'd come to my rescue and as

no questions. You've always told me to

beware of asking favors, you know

Moreover, I had a very friendly feelinoward the man I sold my red cedar to;

hated to stick him too deeply."

"You were entitled to your profitDonald. 'Twas business. You should have

aken it. Ah, lad, if you only knew th

errible four years I've paid for yon red

cedar!"

"You mean the suspense of not knowing

how I was spending my allowance?"


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The Laird nodded.

"Curiosity killed a cat, my son, and I'

not as young as I used to be.""I had thought you'd have read th

accounting in my eye. Take another look

Hector McKaye." And Donald thrust hi

smiling countenance close to his father's.

"I see naught in your eye but deviltry an

okes."

"None are so blind as they that will no

see. If you see a joke, dad, it's on you."

Old Hector blinked, then suddenly hsprang at his son, grasped him by th

shoulders, and backed him against th

wall.


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"Did you sell me that red cedar?" h

demanded incredulously.

"Aye, mon; through an agent," Donaldburred Scottishly. "A' did nae ha' the hear

ae stick my faither sae deep for a bi

skulin'. A'm a prood man, Hecto

McKaye; a'll nae take a grrand eeducashuat sic a price. 'Tis nae Christian."

"Ah, my bonny bairn!" old Hecto

murmured happily, and drew his fine soo his heart. "What a grand joke to play o

your puir old father! Och, mon, was ther

ever a lad like mine?"

"I knew you'd buy that timber for a

nvestment if I offered it cheap enough,

Donald explained. "Besides, I owed you

poke. You wanted to be certain you hadn'


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reared a jackass instead of a man, so yo

gave me a hundred thousand dollars an

stood by to see what I'd do with itdidn

you, old Scotty?" Hector nodded a triflguiltily. "Andrew Daney wrote me yo

swore by all your Highland clan that th

man who sold you that red cedar was rip

for the fool-killer."

"Tush, tush!" The Laird protested

"You're getting personal now. I dislike to

appear inquisitive, but might I ask whayou've done with your two hundre

housand profit?"

"Well, you see, dad, I would have felt arifle guilty had I kept it, so I blew it all i

on good, conservative United State

bonds, registered them in your name, an

sent them to Daney to hide in your vault a


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Port Agnew."

"Ah, well, red cedar or bonds, 'twill al

come back to you some day, sonny. Thereal profit's in the fun"

"And the knowledge that I'm not a foo

eh, father?"

Father love supernal gleamed in Th

Laird's fine gray eyes.

"Were you a fool, my son, and all that have in the world would cure you i

hrown into the Bight of Tyee, I'd gladly

hrow it and take up my life where I bega

twith pike-pole and peavy, doublebitted ax, and cross-cut saw. However

since you're not a fool, I intend to continu

o enjoy my son. We'll go around the


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world together."

Thus did the experiment end. At least

Donald thought so. But when he left thhotel a few minutes later to book tw

passages to Europe, The Laird of Tyee

suddenly remembered that thanks wer

due his Presbyterian God. So he slid to hiold knees beside his bed and murmured:

"Lord, I thank thee! For the sake of thin

own martyred Son, set angels to guard hiand lead him in the path of manly hono

hat comes at last to thy kingdom. Amen."

Then he wired Andrew Daney a lon

elegram of instructions and a stiff raise i

salary.

"The boy has a head like a tar-bucket,


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he concluded. "Everything I ever put int

t has stuck. We are going to frolic round

he world together, and we will be hom

when we get back."


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IV

Donald was twenty-four and The Lair

fifty-eight when the pair returned froheir frolic round the worldDonald t

ake up this father's labors, The Laird t

ay them aside and retire to Th

Dreamerie and the books he ha

accumulated against this happy afterglow

of a busy and fruitful life.

Donald's mother and sisters were at ThDreamerie the night the father and so

arrived. Of late years, they had spent les

and less of their time there. The Laird ha


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never protested, for he could not blam

hem for wearying of a little backwood

sawmill town like Port Agnew.

With his ability to think calmly, clearly

and unselfishly, he had long since realized

hat eventually his girls must marry; now

Elizabeth was twenty-six and Jane twentyeight, and Mrs. McKaye was beginning t

be greatly concerned for their future

Since The Laird had built The Dreameri

n opposition to their wishes, they haspent less than six months in each year a

Port Agnew. And these visits had been

scattered throughout the year. They had

raveled much, and, when not travelinghey lived in the Seattle house and wer

rather busy socially. Despite his devotio

o his business, however, The Laird found


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ime to spend at least one week in eac

month with them in Seattle, in addition t

he frequent business trips which took hi

here.

That night of his home-coming was th

happiest The Laird had ever known, for i

marked the culmination of his lifetime oabor and dreams. Long after his wife an

he girls had retired, he and Donald sat i

he comfortable living-room, smoking an

discussing plans for the future, untipresently, these matters having bee

discussed fully, there fell a silenc

between them, to be broken presently b

The Laird.

"I'm wondering, Donald, if you haven

met some bonny lass you'd like to brin

home to Port Agnew. You realize, of


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course, that there's room on Tyee Head fo

another Dreamerie, although I built thi

one for youand her."

"There'll be no other house on Tyee

Head, father," Donald answered, "unles

you care to build one for mother and th

girls. The wife that I'll bring home to PorAgnew will not object to my father in m

house." He smiled and added, "You're no

at all hard to get along with, you know."

The Laird's eyes glistened.

"Have you found her yet, my son?"

Donald shook his head in negation.

"Then look for her," old Hector ordered

"I have no doubt that, when you find her

she'll be worthy of you. I'm at an age now


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when a man looks no longer into the futur

but dwells in the past, and it's hard for m

o think of you, big man that you are, a

anything save a wee laddie trotting at mside. Now, if I had a grandson"

When, presently, Donald bade hi

good-night, Hector McKaye turned off thights and sat in the dark, gazing dow

across the moonlit Bight of Tyee to the

sparks that flew upward from the stacks o

his sawmill in Port Agnew, for they wererunning a night shift. And, as he gazed, h

hrilled, with a fierce pride and a joy tha

was almost pain, in the knowledge that h

had reared a merchant prince for this, hiprincipality of Tyee.


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V

Hector McKaye had always leane

oward the notion that he could run PorAgnew better than a mayor and a tow

council, in addition to deriving some fu

out of it; consequently, Port Agnew had

never been incorporated. And this was a

ssue it was not deemed wise to press, fo

The Tyee Lumber Company owned every

house and lot in town, and Hecto

McKaye owned every share of stock in th

Tyee Lumber Company.

If he was a sort of feudal baron, he wa


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a gentle and kindly one; large building

plots, pretty little bungalows, cheap

rentals, and no taxation constituted

social condition that few desired tchange. As these few developed and Th

Laird discovered them, their positions i

his employ, were forfeited, their rent

raised, or their leases canceled, anpresently Port Agnew knew them no more

He paid fair wages, worked his men nin

hours, and employed none but naturalize

Americans, with a noticeable predilectio

for those of Scotch nativity or ancestry.

Strikes or lockouts were unknown i

Port Agnewlikewise saloons. Unlikmost sawmill towns of that period, Por

Agnew had no street in which childre

were forbidden to play or which mother


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aught their daughters to avoid. Once a

.W.W. organizer came to town, and upon

being ordered out and refusing to go, Th

Laird, then past fifty, had ducked him ihe Skookum until he changed his mind.

The Tyee Lumber Company owned and

operated the local telephone company, thbutcher shop, the general store, the hotel,

motion-picture theater, a town hall, th

bank, and the electric-light-and-powe

plant, and with the profits from thesenterprises, Port Agnew had paved

streets, sidewalks lined with handsom

electroliers, and a sewer system. It was a

admirable little sawmill town, and if thexpenses of maintaining it exceeded th

ncome, The Laird met the deficit an

assumed all the worry, for he wanted hi


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people to be happy and prosperou

beyond all others.

It pleased Hector McKaye to make aoccasion of his abdication and Donald'

accession to the presidency of the Tyee

Lumber Company. The Dreamerie was no

sufficiently large for his purposehowever, for he planned to entertain all o

his subjects at a dinner and make forma

announcement of the change. So he gave

barbecue in a grove of maples on the edgof the town. His people received i

silence the little speech he made them, fo

hey were loath to lose The Laird. The

knew him, while Donald they had noknown for five years, and there were man

who feared that the East might hav

changed him. Consequently, when hi


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father called him up to the little platfor

from which he spoke, they received th

young laird in silence also.

"Folksmy own home folks," Donal

began, "to-day I formally take up the tas

hat was ordained for me at birth. I a

going to be very happy doing for you anfor myself. I shall never be the man m

father is; but if you will take me to you

hearts and trust me as you have truste

him, I'll never go back on you, for I expeco live and to die in Port Agnew, and

while I live, I want to be happy with you.

would have you say of me, when I a

gone, that I was the worthy son of worthy sire." He paused and looked ou

over the eager, upturned faces of the men

women, and children whose destinies h


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held in the hollow of his hand. "My dea

friends, there aren't going to be an

changes," he finished, and stepped dow

off the platform.

From the heart of the crowd

umberjack cried, "Ya-hoo-o-o-o-o!" a

only a lusty lumberjack can cry it. "He's chip of the old block!" cried another, and

here were cheers and some tears and

general rush forward to greet the new

master, to shake his hand, and pledgallegiance to him.

When the reception was over, old

Hector took charge of the homely gameand athletic contests, and the day'

delights culminated in a log-burlin

contest in the Skookum, in which th

young laird participated. When


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eventually, he fell in the river and wa

counted out, old Hector donned his son'

calked boots and, with a whoop such as h

had not emitted in forty years, entered thists against the young fellows. In the ol

days in the Michigan woods, when burlin

was considered a magnificent art of th

umberjack, he had been a champion, anfor five minutes he spun his log until th

water foamed, crossing and recrossing th

river and winning the contest unanimously

From the bank, Mrs. McKaye and hi

daughters watched him with well-bre

amusement and secret disapproval. The

could never forget, as he could, that hwas The Laird of Tyee; they preferred

more dignity in the head of the house.

The McKaye family drove home alon


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he cliff road at sunset. Young Donald

paused on the terrace before entering th

house, and, stirred by some half-forgotte

memory, he glanced across the bight to thittle white house far below on th

Sawdust Pile. The flag was floating fro

he cupola, but even as he looked, it cam

fluttering down.

Donald turned toward the McKaye flag

t was still floating. "The old orde

changeth," he soliloquized, and hauled idown, at the same time shouting to hi

father within the house:

"Hey, dad; fire the sunset gun!"

The Laird pressed the button and th

cannon boomed.


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"We've neglected that little ceremony

since you've been away," he remarked, a

Donald entered the room. "'Other times

other customs,' I dare say."

He hurried up-stairs to dress for dinne

a formality which he disliked, but whic

appeared to please his wife andaughters), and Donald took his father'

binoculars and went out on the terrace. I

had occurred to him that he had not see

old Caleb Brent and Nan at the barbecueand he wondered why. Through th

glasses, he could make out the figure of

woman in the cupola window, and sh

was watching him through a long marinelescope.

"There's my old friend Nan, grown t

womanhood," Donald soliloquized, an


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waved his arm at her. Through the glasses

he saw her wave back at him.


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VI

The morning after the barbecue, Donal

McKaye reported at eight o'clock to hifather's faithful old general manager

Andrew Daney. Daney had grown gray i

his father's service, and it was no part o

Donald's plans to assign him to a bac

seat.

"Well, Mr. Daney," he inquired affably

"what are your plans for the new hireman?"

Old Daney looked up quizzically.


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"You do the planning here, Don," he

replied.

"You heard me say yesterday that therewould be no changes, Mr. Daney. O

course, I haven't grown up in Port Agnew

without learning something of my heritage

but, in view of the fact that I still havconsiderable to learn, suppose yo

ndicate just where I ought to start."

Daney was pleased at a deference hhad not anticipated.

"Start in the woods," he replied. "That'

where your daddy started. Felling timbe

and handling it is rather a fine art, Don. I'

wrestle logs for a month and follow the

down the Skookum to the log boom. The

'd put in six months in the mill and si


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more in the factory, following it with thre

months on the dock, tallying, and thre

months of a hand-shaking tour out amon

he trade. After that, you may sit in at youfather's desk, and I'll gradually break yo

n to his job."

"That's a grand idea, and I'll act on it,Donald declared.

"Well, it's too late to act on it to-day

Don. The up-river launch to the loggingcamp left at seven o'clock. However,

have a job for you. We really need the

Sawdust Pile for an extension of ou

drying-yard. Our present yard lies righunder the lee of that ridge of which Tyee

Head is an extension, and it's practicall

noon before the sun gets a fair chance at it

The Sawdust Pile gets the sun all da


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ong, and the winds have an uninterrupte

sweep across it. We can dry our ceda

decking there in half the time it require

now."

"But the Sawdust Pile is"

"A rat's nest, Don. There are a numbe

of other shacks there nowsome Gree

fishermen, a negro, and a couple o

women from the overflow of Tyee. I

ought to be cleaned out."

"I noticed those shacks last night, Mr

Daney, and I agree with you that the

should go. But I haven't the heart to ru

old Caleb Brent off the Sawdust Pile.

gave it to him, you know."

"Well, let Brent stay there. He's too old


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Donald reached for his hat.

"Caleb Brent's squatter-right to tha

Sawdust Pile is going to be upheld," hdeclared. "I'll clean that colony out befor

sunset, or they'll clean me."

"I'd proceed cautiously if I were you

Don. They have a host of friends up i

Darrow, and we mustn't precipitate

feud."

"I'm going over now and serve notice o

hem to vacate immediately." He grinned

at old Daney. "A negro, a handful o

Greeks, and those unfortunate women can

bluff the boss of Port Agnew, Mr. Daney.

"They tell me there's a blind pig dow

here, also."


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"It will not be there after to-day,

Donald answered lightly, and departed fo

he Sawdust Pile.

As he came up to the gate in the nea

fence Caleb Brent had built across th

Sawdust Pile nine years before, a bab

boy, of perhaps three years of age, rosout of the weeds in which he had bee

playing and regarded the visito

expectantly.

"Hello, bub!" the young laird of Tyee

greeted the child.

"Hello!" came the piping answer. "Ar

you my daddy?"

"Why, no, Snickelfritz." He ran hi

fingers through the tot's golden hair. "Don


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"And who might mother be?"

"Nan Brent."

"Yo-ho! So you're Nan Brent's boyWhat's your name?"

"Donald Brent."

"No; that isn't it, son. Brent is you

mother's name. Tell me your father'

name."

"Ain't got no farver."

"Well then, run along to your mother."

He kissed the child and set him dowust as a young woman came down th

sadly neglected shell walk from Caleb

Brent's little white house. Donald opene


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he gate and advanced to meet her.

"I'm sure you must be Nan," he said

"although I can't be certain. I haven't seean in six years."

She extended her hand

"Yes; I'm Nan," she replied, "and you'reDonald McKaye. You're a man now, bu

somehow you haven't changed greatly."

"It's fine to meet you again, Nan." Hshook her hand enthusiastically.

She smiled a little sadly.

"I saw you at colors last night, Donald

When your flag came down and the gu

was fired, I knew you'd remembered."


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He made no effort to formulate a

answer to this. Truth does not require an

answer. Yet he was sensible of a distinc

feeling of sympathy for her, and, manlikehe decided to change the topic o

conversation.

"You have neighbors on the SawdusPile, Nan."

"Yes. They came when The Laird was i

Europe."

"They would never have dared it had h

been in Port Agnew. I'm surprised tha

Andrew Daney permitted it. I had though

of him as a man of courage, but, strange t

say, these people outgamed him."

"They didn't outgame him, Donald. H


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machine agent instead of a very old friend

mayconclude to take offense and regre

hat I called."

"Oh, I'm sorry! Please forgive me

Donald. I'm so much aloneso ver

onelyI suppose I grow suspicious o

people and their motives."

"Say no more about it, Nan. May I com

n, then, to greet Caleb and you

husband?"

"Father is in the house. I'll call him out

Donald. As for my husband" Sh

hesitated, glanced out across the bight, an

hen resolutely faced him. "You canno

have heard all of the town gossip, then?"

"I hadn't even heard of your marriage


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ittle man starts life under a handicap, bu

'll see to it that he gets his chance in lif

far from Port Agnew, if you desire.

She closed her eyes in sudden pain andid not answer. "And whatever you

opinion on the matter may be, Nan," h

went on, "even had I known yesterday o

your sorrow, I should have called to-daust the same."

"You call it my 'sorrow!'" she burst fort

passionately. "Others call it my troublemy sinmy disgrace."

"And what does Caleb call it, Nan?"

"He doesn't call it, Donald. It hasn

appeared to make any difference with him

'm stillhis little girl."


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undisputed possession again."

He shook hands with old Caleb and sa

down in a chair which Nan drew up fohim.

"It's good of you to call, Mr. Donald,

he old man piped. "But isn't that just lik

him, Nan?" he demanded. "Many's the da

aye, and the night, too, for of late th

nights have been bad herewe've though

of you, sir, and wished you were back inPort Agnew. We knew what would

happen to those scoundrels when Mr

Donald got around to it." And he laughed

he asthmatic, contented chuckle of thaged as Nan related briefly the story o

Donald's recent activities.

Their conversation which followed wa


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"I'm glad of that. By the way, who i

owing the garbage-barge to se

nowadays?"

"I don't know, sir. Mr. Daney hired

somebody else and his boat when I had t

quit because of my sciatica."

"Hereafter, we'll use your boat, Caleb

and engage a man to operate it. The renta

will be ten dollars per trip, two trips

week, eighty dollars a month. Cheaenough; so don't think it's charity. Here'

he first month's rental in advance. I'

going to run along now, Caleb, but I'l

ook in from time to time, and if yoshould need me in the interim, send fo

me."

He kissed little Don Brent, who set up


134/918

prodigious shriek at the prospect o

desertion and brought his mother flutterin

nto the room. He watched her soothe th

youngster and then asked:

"Nan, where do you keep the arnic

now? I cut my knuckles on that yellow

rascal."

She raised a sadly smiling face to his.

"Where would the arnica beif we ha

any, Donald?" she demanded.

"Where it used to be, I suppose. Up o

hat shelf, inside the basement of that funn

old half-portion grandfather's clock anust out of reach of the pendulum."

"You do remember, don't you? But it'

all gone so many years ago, Donald. We


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He looked at her with sudden, new

nterest. Her action had almost startle

him. As their eyes held each other, he wa

aware, with a force that was almost shock, that Nan Brent was a most unusua

woman. She was beautiful; yet he

physical beauty formed the least part o

her attractiveness, perfect as that beautwas. Instinctively, Donald visualized he

as a woman with brains, character

nobility of soul; there was that in her eyes

n the honesty and understanding wit

which they looked into his, that compelle

him, in that instant, to accept withou

reservation and for all time the lame anhalting explanation of her predicament h

had recently heard from her father's lips

He longed to tell her so. Instead, h

flushed boyishly and said, quit


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"Still the same old primitive pal," sh

murmured softly; "still thinking straight

alking straight, acting straight, anddar

say it, Donald?seeing straight. repeat, you always were the sweetest bo

n the worldand there is still so much o

he little boy about you." Her han

fluttered up and rested lightly on his arm"I'll not forget this day, my dear friend."

It was characteristic of him that, havin

said that which was uppermost in himind, he should remember his manner

and thank her for dressing his knuckles

Then he extended his hand in farewell.

"When you come again, Donald," sh

pleaded, as he took her hand, "will yo

please bring me some books? They're al

hat can keep me saneand I do not go t


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Donald protested.

"Indeed they are, Donald! Hector, you

amaze me," Mrs. McKaye chided."They have too much money to b

anything else," Donald added, and winke

at his father.

"Tush, tush, lad!" the old man murmured

"We shall get nowhere with such

arguments. The world has been at that lin

of conversation for two thousand years

and the issue's still in doubt. Nellie, wil

you have a piece of the well-done?"

"You and your father are never doneoining forces against me," Mrs. McKay

protested, and in her voice was the well

known note that presaged tears should sh


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slandered."

"Oh, indeed!" Jane considered thi

humorous, and indulged herself in cynical laugh.

"Friend of his?" Elizabeth, who wa

regarded in her set as a wit, a reputatio

acquired by reason of the fact that sh

possessed a certain knack for adaptin

slang humorously (for there was n

originality to her alleged wit), now benher head and looked at her brothe

ncredulously. "My word! That's a ric

dish."

"Why, Donald dear," his mother cried

reproachfully, "surely you are jesting!"

"Not at all. Nan Brent isn't a bad gir


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except that which is founded on hearsa

evidence, I can condone her offens

because I can understand it. She migh

have developed into a far worse girl that appears from Donald's account she is

At least, Nellie, she bore her child an

cherishes it, and, under the rules of societ

as we play it, that required a kind ocourage in which a great many girls ar

deficient. Give her credit for that."

"Apparently she has been frank,Elizabeth answered him coolly. "On th

other hand, father McKaye, her so-calle

courage may have been ignorance o

apathy or cowardice or indifference. It aldepends on her point of view."

"I disagree with mother that it is not

matter of importance," Donald persisted


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"Mother and the girls are up to thei

eyebrows in the work of an organizatio

n Seattle designed to salvage femal

delinquents," Donald complained. "I canunderstand their attitude."

Old Hector hooted.

"They don't do the salvaging. Not a bi

of it! That unpleasant work is left t

others, and the virtuous and respectabl

merely pay for it. Ken ye not, boy, 'twaever the habit of people of means t

patronize and coddle the lowly. If the

couldn't do that, where would be the fun o

being rich? Look in the Seattle papersWho gets the advertising out of a charit

ball if it isn't the rich? They organize i

and they put it over, with the public payin

for a look at them, and they attending th


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misfortune. I'm glad you stood by ol

Brent and his girl," he added approvingly

"I intend to accord her the treatmenwhich a gentleman always accords th

finest lady in the land, dad."

"Or the lowest, my son. I've noticed tha

kind are not altogether unpopular with ou

finest gentlemen. Donald, I used to pray t

God that I wouldn't raise a fool. I feel tha

he's answered my prayers, but if yoshould ever turn hypocrite, I'll star

praying again."


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he Sawdust Pile, when, to hide he

emotion, she had half turned from him an

gazed so forlornly out across the Bight o

Tyee. It had struck him then, with peculiaforce, that Nan Brent never again woul

augh that joyous elfin laugh of other days

He had seen the pulse beating in he

creamy neck againa neck fullerrounder, glorious with the beauty of full

developed womanhood. And the riot o

golden hair was subdued, with th

exception of little wayward wisps tha

whipped her white temples. Her eyes

somewhat darker now, like the sea nea

he horizon after the sun has set but whilhe glory of the day still lingers, wer

bright with unshed tears. The sweet curve

of her mouth were drawn in pain. Th

northwest trade-wind blowing across th


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"This is Darrow, Mr. Donald. I don

believe you've seen it, have you? Darrow

put in his mill and town while you wer

away."

Donald looked over the motle

collection of shacks as the automobil

rolled down the single unpaved street.

"Filthy hole," he muttered. "Hello

There's one of my late friends from th

Sawdust Pile."

A woman, standing in the open door of

shanty on the outskirts of the town ha

made a wry face and thrust out her tongu

at him. He lifted his hat gravely, wherea

she screamed a curse upon him. An instan

ater, an empty beer-bottle dropped with

crash in the tonneau, and Donald, turning


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hem with adhesive tape, and went back t

work next morning as if nothing ha

happened. During those five days, h

earned considerable of the art odropping a tree exactly where he desire

t, and bringing it to earth withou

breakage. He rode down to Port Agnew

with the woods crew on the last log-traiSaturday night, walked into the mill office

and cashed in his time-slip for five days

work as a chopper. He had earned two

dollars a day and his board and lodging

His father, who had driven into town to

meet him, came to the window an

watched him humorously."So that's the way you elect to work it

eh?" he queried. "I told Daney to pay yo

my salary when I quit."


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young laird of Tyee was still appraising

her, and, unable to withstand th

fascination peculiar to such a situation

she looked at him again to verify hesuspicionsand it was even so. In grea

confusion she turned to her stock, an

Donald, satisfied that he had squelche

her completely, went into the manager'office, wrote, and sealed the followin

note to Nan Brent:

Saturday night. FRIEND NAN:

Here are some duds for the youn

fellow. You gave me the right to look after

him, you know; at least, you didn't declint. At any rate, I think you will not mind

accepting them from me.

I sent to Seattle for some books I though


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breathe such a thing, butdid it eve

occur to you thatperhapsthe father o

an Brent's child might be"

"Donald?" he exploded incredulously.

She nodded, and about her nod ther

was something of that calm self

confidence of an attorney who is winnin

his case and desires to impress that fac

upon the jury.

"By God, woman," cried Daney, "yo

have the most infernal ideas"

"Andrew! Remember it's the Sabbath!"

"It's a wonder my language doesn

shrivel this paper. Now then, where i

hades do you get this crazy notion?

Daney was thoroughly angry. She gazed u


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at him in vague apprehension. Had sh

gone too far? Suddenly he relaxed. "No

don't tell me," he growled. "I'll not be

gossip. God forgive me, I was about tbefoul the very salt I eat. I'll not b

disloyal."

"But, Andrew dear, don't you know wouldn't dare breathe it to anyone bu

you?"

"I don't know how much you'd dare. Aany rate, I'll excuse you from breathing i

o me, for I'm not interested. I know it isn

rue."

"Then, Andrew, it is your duty to tell me

why you know it isn't true, in order that

may set at rest certain rumors"


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fashioned deprecation for the blun

anguage he was about to employ, "you'l

admit that the child wasn't found behin

one of old Brent's cabbages. This is thyear 1916."

But Mrs. Daney anticipated him.

"They've figured it out," she interrupted

"and Donald was home from college fo

he holidays in 1912."

"So he was," The Laird replie

complacently. "I'd forgotten. So that alib

goes by the board. What else now? Doe

he child resemble my son?"

"Nobody knows. Nan Brent doesn

receive visitors, and she hasn't been up

own since the child was born."


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ntuition warned her impended, the mor

firmly did she become convinced that i

was her Christian duty to call upon Na

Brent and strive to present the situation ia common-sense light to that erring youn

Woman.

Having at length attained to thiresolution, a subtle peace settled ove

Mrs. Daney, the result, doubtless, of

consciousness of virtue regained, sinc

she was about to right a wrong to whicshe had so thoughtlessly been a party. He

decision had almost been reached whe

her husband, coming home for luncheon a

noon on Saturday, voiced thapprehension which had harassed hi

during the week.

"Donald will be home from the wood


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o-night," he announced, in troubled tones

"I do hope he'll not permit that big heart o

his to lead him into further kindnesses tha

will be misunderstood by certain peopln case they hear of them. I have neve

known a man so proud and fond of a so

as The Laird is of Donald."

"Nonsense!" his wife replie

complacently. "The Laird has forgotten al

about it."

"Perhaps. Nevertheless, he will watc

his son, and if, by any chance, the bo

should visit the Sawdust Pile"

"Then it will be time enough to worr

about him, Andrew. In the meantime, it'

none of our business, dear. Eat you

uncheon and don't think about it."


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warn me to protect him! As if I wouldn

ay down my life to uphold his honor

evertheless, you dear old bunglin

busybody, you are absolutely rightalthough I suspect no altruistic reaso

carried you forth on this uncomfortabl

errand."

Nan had heretofore, out of the bitternes

of her life, formed the opinion tha

brickbats were for the lowly, such as she

and bouquets solely for the great, such aDonald McKaye. Now, for the first time

she realized that human society i

organized in three stratahigh, mediocre

and low, and that when a mediocrity haclimbed to the seats of the mighty, hi

fellows strive to drag him back, down t

heir own ignoble levelor lower. To


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an, child of poverty, sorrow, and

solitude, the world had always appeare

more or less incomprehensible, but thi

afternoon, as she retraced her slow stepo the Sawdust Pile, the old dull pain o

existence had become more complicate

and acute with the knowledge that the firs

ray of sunlight that had entered her life ihree years was about to be withdrawn

and at the thought, tears, which seemed t

well from her heart rather than from he

eyes, coursed down her cheeks and a sob

broke through her clenched lips.

Her progress homeward, what with th

heavy bundle of driftwood, in her aprompeding her stride, coupled with th

necessity for frequent pauses to permit he

child to catch up with her, was necessaril


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wood up in it and carry it home for you."

Despite her distress, she smiled.

"You're such an old-fashionedgentleman," she replied. "So very muc

ike your sonI mean, your son is so ver

much like you."

"That's better. I think I enjoy th

compliment more when you put it tha

way," he answered. "Do not stand ther

holding the wood, my girl. Drop it."

She obeyed and employed her righ

hand, thus freed, in wiping the telltal

ears from her sweet face.

"I have been lax in neighborl

solicitude," The Laird continued. "I mus

send you over a supply of wood from th


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box factory. We have more waste than we

can use in the furnaces. Is this your littl

man, Nan? Sturdy little chap, isn't he

Come here, bub, and let me heft you."

He swung the child from the sands, an

while pretending to consider carefully th

nfant's weight, he searched the cherubicountenance with a swift, appraisin

glance.

"Healthy little rascal," he continued, answung the child high in the air two o

hree times, smiling paternally as the latte

screamed with delight. "How do you lik

hat, eh?" he demanded, as he set the bodown on the sand again.

"Dood!" the child replied, and gazing up

at The Laird yearningly. "Are you m


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daddy?"

But The Laird elected to disregard th

pathetic query and busied himselgathering up the bundle of driftwood, no

did he permit his glance to rest upon Na

Brent's flushed and troubled face. Tuckin

he bundle under one arm and taking Nan'child on the other, he whistled to his dog

and set out for the Sawdust Pile, leavin

he girl to follow behind him. H

preceded her through the gate, tossed thdriftwood on a small pile in the yard, an

urned to hand her the apron.

"You are not altogether happy, poogirl!" he said kindly. "I'm very sorry.

want the people in my town to be happy."

"I shall grow accustomed to it, Mr


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McKaye," Nan answered. "To-day, I am

merely a little more depressed than usua

Thank you so much for carrying the wood

You are more than kind."

His calm, inscrutable gray glance rove

over her, noting her beauty and he

sweetness, and the soul of him waroubled.

"Is it something you could confide in a

old man?" he queried gently. "You aremuch neglected, and II understand th

houghts that must come to you sometimes

Perhaps you would be happier elsewher

han in Port Agnew."

"Perhaps," she replied dully.

"If you could procure worksom


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profession to keep your mind off you

roublesI have some property i

Tacomasuburban lots with cottages on

hem." The Laird grew confused anembarrassed because of the thou

Kyne Peter B - Kindred of the Dust

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