THE HEART OF
NIGHT WIND#
A STORY OF THE GREAT NORTH WEST
Oy VINGIE E. ROC
ILLUSTRATIONS 6y far
COPYG/C/iT GY DODD. P?£AP AM COMPANY ' '
SYNOPSIS.
CHAPTER I—Siletz of Daily’s lumber
rj'rnu watches a stranger mishandle his
horse in climbing the ridge and directs
him to the camp.
CHAPTER II—Walter Sandry Introduces
himself to John Daily, foreman, as “the
Dillingworth Lumber Co., or most of it."
CHAPTER III—Sandry mak^s acquaint
ance w.th the camp and the work lie has
come from the East to superintend and
make successful.
CHAPTER IV—Sandry wisely decides to
leave immediate supervision in the hands
of Daily and writes to his father that ■
he intends to get a handful of the wealth
in the uncut timber of the region.
CHAPTER V—Sandry gives Siletz per
mission to ride Black Bolt, his saddle
horse.
CHAPTER VI-Sandry in an emergency j
finds himself no lumberman, but proves j
to the foreman that he does not lack ;
judgment. Siletz tells Sandry of the
Preacher.
CHAPTER VII—Sandry discovers that
S-letz bears the sign of the Siletz tribe
of Indians and wonders what her sur
name is. In the flush of a tender moment
he calls her "the Night Wind in the
pines" and kisses hbr.
CHAPTER VIII—Poppy Ordwav, a map
nziiu* writer from New York, comes to
Daily’s to get material for a romance of
th«- lumber region. Hampden of the Yol- ;
low Pines Co. wants Sandry to keep off a
tract of stumpage he claims title to and
Sundry thir.ks lie lias bought as the East !
Belt.
CHAPTER IX—Hkmpden sets up a
c .bin on the East Belt and warns tres
passers off. Sandry can find no written [
evidence of title to the tract. His nmn
pull down the cabin. Sandry compares
Siletz and Poppy.
CHAPTER X—Sandry's and Hampden’s
nn n fight over the dispute d tract. The
Preacher stops the fight.
CHAPTER XT—Sandry finds that the
de* d to the East Belt has never been re
corded. He decides to get out his con
tract first and fight for the stumpage aft
erward.
CHAPTER XTI— Poppy scents trickery
and flirts with Hampden to gain his con- j
fldence. She tells Sandry that Hampden !
is crooked and that she’ll get him.
CHAPTER XIII—Poppy goes to Salem j
in search of evidence against Hampden, j
Sandry and Siletz ride to the seashore
and Siletz sees the ocean for the first
time. Sundry’s men desert him for Hamp
den. who has offered more money.
CHAPTER XIV—Siletz goes to her
friends the Si washes and persuades them
» work for Sandry to save his contract.
CHAPTER XV—Poppy tells Sandry that
she has proof of Hampden’s filing bogus
entries in collusion with the commission
er. She sees Siletz and Sandry talking
together and becomes jealous.
CHAPTER XVI—The big timber raft is
started on its way, but is blown up and
Sandry is dangerously injured.
CHAPTER XVII—Poppy insists on tak
ing care of Sandry ami pays she is his
promised wife. “No,*’ ci s Siletz. “he
Khsed me and I am his woman.’’
“You’ve been so good to me—I can't
say how good, how much you have
stood for to me here—but—but. If you
please, Miss Ordway—Poppy, my
friend—I’d rather you’d let Hampden
alone.”
“What?” cried Poppy aloud, while
r 11 her instincts were clamoring for
adjustment. “What do you mean,
Walter Sundry?”
“Can't you see, you clever woman,
that I mu£t get Hampden myself?
That this score must be settled first
hand?”
And Ma Daily, coming softly along
the grass to the door, heard the words.
“Knowed it,” she said with a sharp
satisfaction, “he’s a man an’ 1 knowed
it from th’ start.’’
CHAPTER XIX.
A Lie and a Theft.
Sarulry recovered rapidly. His youth
and lithe strength were powerful aids
and the broken bones inside the plas
ter casts knitted busily. With his re
turn to consciousness, Miss Ordway
relaxed her vigilance. She gave up
her place without protest to Ma Dally
and began to spend a part of her days
hr. the little room. This had been San
dry’s urgent request.
“See what you’ve lost already in
time and strength and energy,’ he
pleaded, "please go to your own work.'
Oil one of the first days of Ma
Daily's attendance, he asked to see
Siletz
The general was wise and she sent
the girl alone. Sandry closed his eyes
and lay waiting for the light step that
always reminded him of wild things tn
the forest—so slipping, soft and
h ir.hed was it.
Presently he heard it coming down
the slope. It slowed as it neared the
office and for a long time stopped a]
together outside the door. His heart
leaped uncontrollably and conflicting
ships the sun all flay. Anil there in |
the little south room from wiiose open
window ho could hear the click of a
typewriter, was the most brilliant
woman of his own world whom he had
ever known, a woman soon to be fa
He Stared at the Few Scant Notes. !
moufi for her great gift and her mar
velous beauty—and she, too, by her
open word was "his woman!''
"Little S'letz,’’ he said, though he |
had meant to use her name alone, j
"Little S'letz—”
But what he would have said was 1
left unspoken, for Ma Daily creaked |
in the doorway with a howl of broth.
"My goodness, ma,” he said whim- !
sicallv, "if you don't stop filling me
with broth I’ll refuse to eat at all. 1
want a slice of ham and some of your
incomparable rice pudding. ’
“You want what you get. You sip
i this all.”
As Sandry obediently finished the
I last drop, the general reached in the
capacious pocket of her dish apron.
“Here.” she said, "see what i found.”
She held squarely before his eyes a
little red morocco notebook, opened at
a page far to the back.
“Miss Ordway dropped it as she rode
off on the bay this meritin' an' I
picked it up.”
Without volition, Sandry glanced at
the white page, which held a few'
neatly tabulate notes.
“We ought not to read it, ma,” he
was saying, "it may be private—”
Then a change came over his fea
tures and involuntarily he peered
closer.
Ma s keen, old eyes were upon his
face and she saw it slowly lose what
little color returning life had given it i
saw a look of bewilderment, of amaze
and something very like fear settle
down upon it, drawing the features
tightening the skin. He stared hard
at the few scant notes, then raised
dilated eyes to her.
“Are you sure, ma, sure—?’’ he
asked in a strangely altered voice.
“Sure? Hver know mo to speak
when i wa'ut sure, i^>n?” said the gen
eral grimly.
For, though the notes on the page
were so few and so meaningless to an !
outsider, it was plain that they had
fallen under the one pair of eyes
whose owner they most vitally con
cerned.
This was what Walter Sandry read:
Tuesday night: Ruined! Ruined! Help
less, and he does not know!
Wednesday: Scoundrels all—.James B.
Whitby—Mtisseldorn—Copper and Zinc,
Consolidated. Legitimate! My God. it's
done legitimately! Within the law! May
such law he damned. James I!. Whitby—
I am the law this night. . . .
Thursday: Dad, old chap!
When he had finished, his weak
hands trembled on the sheet and there
was the look of a cornered animal in
the bright, blue eyes that sought the
old woman's pleadingly.
"Ma,” said Sundry hoarsely, “take It
back and put it where Miss Ordway
will casually find it, and don't say 1
saw it.”
Without a word, Ma Daily picked up
her bowl, put the little red book in her
i pocket and took Siletz away to the
noon work, leaving the man for the
first time alone. Of a wide and cun
| ning knowledge w'as this old handler
of men. She knew that he w'ould
| think best in solitude.
“Mother,'’ said Siletz as they passed
| up the path, “she never dropped that “
"Course not. I lied an' stole both,
but it's worth while. There’s some
thin’ threatenin’ Sandry, an’ though
he’s pretty weak to be worried, it's
best he should know.”
And in the meantime Poppy Ordway
w'as talking to Hampden on the Siletz
road. The man was passionate force
ful. a little worried by her long ab
sence from their rides, and he used
j every persuasion at his command to
win her from the Daily camp
“What for do you want to stay
there?” he boggl'd.
emotions flushed his face as he called
her softly.
Come here, S’letz,” he heard him
saying, though for his life it was
i. what he wished to say, and she
came and dropped on her knees beside
him, clasping her hands on the sheet
at his side. There was nothing of the
conscious avowal of Poppy s words in
her look and attitude, only the simple
betrayal of a nature as open as the
day. The shining light of joy in her
face, the hushed acknowledgment of
God’s sparing of his life, was all-sufli
cient. In a flash he heard the words
of Kolawmle’s half-breed:
“—for S'letz Is your woman.”
And he knew they were true. Hy
every sign of her soul and body they
were true, as simply as the flower wor
"Don't you know I ain writing a 1...Ti
ber story?"
"Sure. But why ean't you come to
the Vella Bines?”
And have the country talking? I
ride with you too much for that. 1 i
have a reputation in tHe great world
that 1 can't uffoid to loje in the little
one."
"But they eay you’re goln’ to marry
that da—beg yer pardon—that Johnny |
Eastern. That so? For God's sake, i
girl, don't say it!"
Hampden's rtd face was pale, and
she enjoyed seeing this coarse, bull j
like man shaken to his foundations. '
"And what if it is?"
“I’ll kill him! So help me heaven.
Ill get him next—1 tell you 1 can't
stand for that!'’
“Get him next time." she was saying
swiftly to herself, "oh, Hampden, I :
fancy there'll he a lot of getting—
whether or not Walter Sandry wants !
me to quit—now, a*ter all I've gone
through with you to get my line staked
out!”
Aloud she said at the same time,
“No—it *isn't true.” And Hampden
caught her hand and kissed it.
March crawled by and April—May
came in with the fee! and look of sum- 1
mer-as it does in tho western hills. 1
warm and bright and eternally surny
Sandry wondered if it had ever rained
Any exertion tired him cruelly, so he
loafed about the office, sat on the east 1
porch at tiie cook shack, and talked
idly with the three women, for Poppy
Ordway. despite Ma Daily’s coldness
and hints, and Siletz’ silence, still
stayed on at the camp. Often Sandry
watched her with a puzzled look in nis
eyes which all her cleverness had
failed to fathom.
There was a slight constraint be
tween them.
The work of the camp went on
well. A bunch of lumberjacks from
Sacramento had come in during April,
and Sandry took them on. The Port
land Lumber company received the
second raft, a smaller one. by the
middle of May, and followed its re
ceipt with another order that would
keep all hands and extra help at work
until August. The pressing mortgage
had been lifted by that first big check
and the young owner felt his spirit
surging within him like the growing
year. His only worry was the fact
that Hampden was building track and
a log-trail into the strip between camp
and tho East Belt from the south.
He evidently meant to begin opera
tions under Sundry’s very eyes.
“Walter,” asked Miss Ordway, ‘‘how
long are you going to wait before let
ting me use my lever to pry Hamp
den off?”
She watched him with narrowed
eyes. The strange reticence, the era
barrassed reserve that had fallen upon
j Sundry of late and for which she could
' not account, kept his glance from hers
as he answered:
"Until I am able to go to Salem."
The woman's exquisite cheeks
flamed a dull crimson under their rose
leaf pink—the heavy hue of anger—
but she only smiled.
"And I cannot help?" she asked wist
fully.
Sandry laughed, constrainedly.
"I'll have to get him myself,” he
reiterated, “and 1 can't fight him with
my fists—though, by heaven, I'd like j
to!" 1
At that moment Siletz came around
the corner of the house aud Sandry’s
eyes went to her as helplessly as the
needle to the north and in them came
instantly an expression of wistful sad
ness.
That look sent a cold chill to the
passionate heart of Poppy Ordway and
in a flash she made a decision The '
danger m Siletz was drawing near,
she knew, though Sandry himself was
unaware of it.
"So it's going to be a fight?" sh“
thought, while a sick rage hurried her
breath; "all right! 1 guess I’ll have'
to use all my power.”
“Walter,” she said suddenly, "I'm
going east tomorrow."
Instantly he turned upon her. search
ilig her face with startled eyes, and
though Miss Ordway was smiling!
sweetly at the girl, she knew that his
lace was going gray.
"Yes?” he asked unsteadily. The j
tone pierced her heart with a pain
that stung, but she put it resolutely \
aside. She had determined to have j
this man by fair means or foul and
she knew that in the future she would
repay hin% for any pain she might
cause in the process of winning him
“Yes,’- she answered quietly, "but
I’m coming back. I want to see my 1
publishers.”
CHAPTER XX.
A Cruel Weapon.
Tn the soberly correct offices of
Farnsworth & Heathcote, one ol’ New
York's must solid and reputable law
firms, two persons sat talking.
The honest roses in the cheeks of
Miss Poppy Ordway bloomed glorious
ly. Her raiment whispered sulkily
when she moved her splendid shoul
ders a bit more comfortably against
the mahogany chair-back.
“And now, Mr. Farnsworth.” she ■
w-as saying, "can you give me the full
particulars of that mysterious rob
bery ?”
The eminent lawyer's quiet eyes!
were taking pleasurable ncte of the
woman's beauty the concise handling ,
of the discussion in hand.
“As one of the attorneys for the
estate of tames B. Whitby. 1 think I j
am qualified to do so, lie stated 1
gravely.
"Then," said Poppy Ordvav, open
ing a little red morocco notebook at
a page far to the back, “let us pro
ceod. ’
Mr. Farnsworth spread out before ,
him a act ot papers.
1
“‘First -Standard Copper end Fir.o1
company, consolidated,' ” he read with
out preface, "one ol the most conserva
tive and entirely solvent concerns in
*he country. Under the control and
in the hands of Whitby, Halstead,
Witherspoon & Haste.
'“Suspected of crooked methods.
Twice involved in suits at law,charged
with rate and rebate swindles.
‘‘‘Second—On the night of June 18,
1899, President Whitby had in his pos
session, for what reason has never
been ir.r.ae known, at his ba, iielor
apartments at Whitby place, Aredale,
$502 000 in banknotes of high denomi
nations. He had sent away his man
for the night and was entirely alone
“‘Third—He was found at nine
o'clock the next morn birr in his library,
sitting before a table c; coral hours
dead. Hnder his hand it • #’ unfin
ished letter. This letter toil,, ver
batim:
. ’ i
Arcade riace.
New York Cits. New York,
June IS, 1S99.
T, .Tames B. Whitby, president of the
Standard Copper and Zir. company, Con
solidated, sit down to write what I be
lieve will be my last word on earth.
T! e telephone wires have been cut, my
man is away for the night, and I am en
tirely alone in the grip of one of my re
current attacks of heart, trouble, but my
brain is abnormally clear. I brought out
list evening from business JaOJ.OOO, for
reasons ' m a. n to my.-elf—all of il in bills
of high denomination.
At one o’clock this nitrl.l T looked up to
face a pistol held by a men, a young man
who was unmasked. “You may as well
be pathnt.‘ lie said quietly, “for 1 intend
having a talk with you.”
Then followed wliat sufficed'to heat me
into the greatest rage of my life—an ac
cusation of myself, my methods and my
firm, the statistical coldness of which
was the acme of studied insolence. He
was a young man. almost a boy, just
home from a year in Europe after col
lege.
llc> had, it r.ppc.ura. found Ids father a
bankrupt, through unwise speculations of
a partner, and tracing some transactions
to me, laid it all at my rloor. He de
manded the money I had in my posses
sion—at (he point of the pistol!
Shaking with rage I obeyed, and threat
ened to ixpnse him by di'tight, He eool
ly told me I would not dare because of
proofs, in his hands, which wo I t states
prison me, and which proofs I positively
know do not exist.
The affair, f believe at this writing will
cost me rny life, so vitally did it stir mv
anger, and here and now before my
strength fails, let me commend him to
the fullest limit of the law for punish
ment. He is as truly my murderer as If
lie had fired his gun, to this I swear, and
his name is—
“There,” finished the attorney, “the
letter ended, signed only by the hand
of death, leaving the greatest mystery
of the times. There was no trace of
the young man with the pistol.
“There has been found no trace of
the immense bundle of banknotes, as
there could he found no record of their
numbers nor any word of where Mr.
Whitby got them. There has been
found nothing, as all the world.knows
The estate has employed the best de
tective talent of the country to no
avail. There are no true clues, opin
ions or theories. All are false when
applied.”
With lightning rapidity Miss Ord
way had been following the attorney’s
reading in shorthand in the red note
book.
“Ah!” she said with a breath of
satisfaction, "that is excellent! Excel
lent—and it closes the first matter of
which I spoke. Now for the second.”
Site smiled into Mr. Farnsworth’s
eyes in her own bewitching manner as
she told the small lie, for there were
no two matters upon which she had
0\h~ PS
‘■There," Finished the Attorney, ‘‘the
Letter Ended."
sought intelligence, but one only and
that ol so gigantic and uncertain a
nature that she l'elt as it' she were
handling dynamite which might ex
plode any moment.
However, the air of finality with
which she folded the notebook and
thereby seemed to dismiss the great
Whitby mystery deceived mat shrewd
and far-seeing man, Karnsworth, him
self.
He saw no connection between her
two sets ot questions when sne, seem
ing to turn the trend ol tier own mind
into an entirely different channel, put
her next query.
“And now, Mr. Farnsworth,’’ she
said briskly, “what do you know of
the name ‘Sundry ?
Tn- lawyer was folding up his pa
pers raid putting them carefully away
in the drawer.
“Sandry? Why—not very much,
Miss Ordivaj. S-rapiy that there is a
firm by the name of Sanary Mtissel
dorn winch .teats In fancy horses .md
racing stock 'i ney have magnificent
breeding t; ms m Now .ten-, v and ate
rctof! as rath -r n-orr than tinanefaliv
solid. Mr Wilton Simmy. (he senior
partnei is an old man ol very tine
“Clin::/” Chamberlain "A good cough remedy is one that can be
depended upon to cure coughs. Not one
that cures some particular cough, but coughs in general.
It must be a cough remedy that can be relied upon for all the
different coughs that are so prevalent. Wh:le the causes of all
coughs are primarily the same, yet the condition of the patient
is what makes the difference in the nature of the cough itself.
Coughs of healthy persons are easier to cure than the coughs of
invalids. The powerful convulsive cough of a large man is
harder to cure than the cough of a baby. If you get a remedy
that v/ill cure a large man’s cough and yet not be too powerful
for the ?oaby, you have a good cough remedy.
Chamberlain’s Cough Remedy
is just this kind of remedy. It is good for any member of the
family. It relieves coughs of ail kinds. It is the product of much
thought and study to produce an ideal cough remedy. It is com
posed of things which cure easily and soothingly without harm
ing the most delicate tissues of the throat. It acts as easily and
safely on the young as on the old, and is the ideal remedy for
coughs, colds, croup, influenza, whooping cough and bronchitis.”
JAaJjJL —
presence, an Invalid since three years
ago—tied to a wheel chair in his man
sion on Riverside drive. Musseldorn.
a clever man, extremely capable and
pleasant.”
“And is that, all? Has this Mr. Wil
ton Sandry any family?”
“Why, let me see—yes, I believe
there is a son, one son. The mother is
dead.”
“And where is this son?”
"I do not know. He has been in
Europe, I believe, though It seems
to me that he returned some time
ago.”
“U'm,” Miss Ordway was saying to
herself—“a year in Europe, after col
lege.”
Twenty minutes later the eminent
lawyer walked down with her to where
her runabout waited.
As she threaded among the teeming
traffic. Poppy Ordway was saying to
. herself, “Wilton Satulry, financially
' solid. James B. Whitby robbed by a
man—a young man just home from a
I year in Europe, after college, whose
father he had found bankrupt by un
: wise speculation of a partner and the
said James B. Whitby. And Walter
Sandry in the Oregon hills mutters
of ‘Ruined! Ruined! And he does j
not know!’ ‘Legitimate! It is done .
legitimately!’ and 'I am the law this 1
night, James B. Whitby!* Ah me!
Walter—Walter—heart of my heart,
fire of my blood—you’re the man with
the jnstol!”
CHAPTER XXI,
The Right Law.
Once again Poppy Ordway was back
at Daily's. Seemingly nothing had
happened in her absence. Sandry was
a little stronger, a bit more impatient
to be at the work, able to go about the
camp and the tilted meadow. He was
pale still, and to her passionate eyes
more to he desired than ever. She
noticed quickly how wistfully tender
was the face of Siletz, and how the
girl stayed apart from Sandry in a
certain diffidence. This was balm to
her fears and her anxiety.
She went back to her work with re
newed vigor. She was happier here in
this wild country than she had ever
Ik . n in her life, filled with the excite
ment of Fame that lured and Love
that beckoned, and, so she believed,
aide to capture both.
She set herself to win Sandry with
more skill and cleverness than ever,
calling upon all her store of blandish
ments. and it was mighty, for every
art of love known to a designing
woman. They spent long hours in the
sun on the east porch talking of a
thousand things and a dual war went
on- suspicion, fear, uneasiness bat
tling against the woman's divine gen
tleness the blue fire of her sensuous,
sleepy eyes that, despite himself,
thrilled the man to his foundations.
So Poppy Ordway sought to win
legitimately, unconscious of the fact
that one enemy had "lied an’ stole
both” to show Sandry her hidden hand.
She did not w-nnt to buy him with a
price, though that was her reserve
force- she wished with all her unscru
pulous soul to ».in him with her ex
quisite woman's body. And to that
end she used all the power of her
beauty. Without doubt Sandry, half
hound as lie felt himself to be by her
open avowal, would have yielded to it
entirely, could he have laid the spec
ter of the notebook.
Then one day an incident took
place that caused her to see that she
must let him feel the steel beneath the
velvet.
As usual, she sat in the golden after
noon on the ea^it porch, her work for
the day being over, and Sundry
lounged on the lowest step, his elbow
on the floor and his hat pulled low
over his eyes, gazing down the valley.
Presently there came a sound, a
rhythmic sound, at first far oil. then
coming nearer, the rolling thunder of
a big horse in full flight, an I up from
the lower rollway came Black Bolt,
gleaming, dark, splendid. As if she
were a part of him, Siletz rode, sway
ing with her loose motion that always
suggested the very drunkenness of
speed. In her arm she held a great
bunch of wild bleeding hearts, their
brilliant crimson splashing gorgeously
along her olive throat, where the blue
shirt lay open a bit.
With a slight pressure ot knee ami
heel the girl sent the great black horse
directly at the steps of the porch. Aa
he came on Miss Ordway sprang up
with a little scream, overturning her
chair. But Sandry sat unflinching on
the lowest step, smiling. Within three
feet of him Black Bolt lowered his
head, set his feet and came to a splen
did stop.
Siletz leaned forward and dropped
her burden in Sandry s lap, showering
him with the blood of the bleeding
hearts. She Old not look at him. Then
they trotted away around the corner
I to the shed and Sandry’s lips tight
ened pitifully as he gathered up each
j smallest spray of the woods-treasures.
! Where she stood back against the
wall, one hand at her pulsing throat.
Miss Ordway saw that tightening of
the lips, the droop that came into the
man s whole face, and* her eyes nar
rowed and hardened like a cat's.
That night she came to him in the
eating room.
"Walter," she said, "I'm ‘stuck’ in
the middle of a chapter. Will you go
over a few pages with me and givt me
the benefit of a man's ideas?”
He smiled.
“1 m afraid mine will not be of much
account, out such as they are you are
welcome to them.”
"They will answer,” said Miss Ora
way, "a woman cannot write from her
self for men—she must write from
man to man. i'll bring my manuscript
out here. "
And turning, she went from him to
the sanctuary of the little south room.
Miss Ordway Was Talking Slowly.
When she returned she carried a hand
ful of closely typewritten pages.
They drew up one of the pine
benches, spread out the manuscript be
tween the catchup bottles and sat down
together.
Instantly with the touch of the shift
ing sheetr In her lingers Miss Ordway
seemed to drift away from the per
sonal. She became detached, absorbed,
swallowed up in the thrall of work
and Sandry had a feeling of what such
a work must mean to one.
“Now see.” she said, half excitedly,
"lucre is the point about which I am
a trifle in doubt. Hut I will have to
sketch the situation for you so you
eau_get_ a grip on It/' __ __
TO BE CONTINUED NEXT WEEK.
Tell us the news for the New*