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Page Two If BAREE 111 Son of Kazan * • * » *• • • * > • *! •• M «■ « » | By JAMES OLIVES CUXWOGD f 4 • * + ' 7—7 ; '•& (©, Doubleday, Page & Co.J WNU Service THE STORY CHAPTER I. —Part wolf, part dog— when two months old Baree has his first meeting: with an enemy, Papayu chisew (young owl). Fighting hard, the antagonists are suddenly plunged Into a swollen creek. CHAPTER ll.—Badly buffeted, and half drowned, Baree is finally flung on the bank, but the water has de stroyed his sense of direction and he is lost, lonely and hungry. For many days his life is one of fear and dis tress. He finally wanders into the trapping grounds of a halfbreed, Pier rot Du Quesne, and his daughter. Ne peese the Willow. Taking Haree for a wolf, Nepeese shoots and wounds him, but he escapes. CHAPTER lll.—The wolf blood in Baree becomes uppermost. He rapidly learns Nature’s secrets, though he finds no comrades and is desperately lonely. CHAPTER IV. —Following Wakayoo, the black bear, Baree subsists royally on the caches of fish the big fellow leaves. He comes again into Pierrot’s trapping domain. Pierrot shoots Wa kayoo. Nepeese. Insisting Baree is dog, not wolf, tries to capture him. Baree is strongly drawn to the girl, but cannot entirely overcome his dread of man. CHAPTER V. —Baree makes friends with a colony of beavers, losing much of his sense of loneliness. CHAPTER VI. —Bush McTaggart, factor at Lac Bain, Hudson's Bay com pany's post, man of evil life, has long coveted Nepeese, even to the extent of offering marriage, but makes no prog ress with his suit. On his way to Pierrot and Nepeese McTaggart takes Baree in a trap, and in a struggle is bitten. With the dog he comes to Pierrot’s cabin. CHAPTER Vll.—Nepeese claims Ba ree as hers, bathing the wounds in flicted by McTaggart after the dog had bitten him. Then, promising to give him a definite answer to his lcrvemak ing Nepeese lures McTaggart to the edge of a deep pool and humiliates him by plunging him into the water, at the same time taunting him for presum ing to address her-. Blood poisoning developing from Baree's bite, McTag gart and Pierrot hasten to Lac Bain to secure medical treatment. CHAPTER Vlll.—Nepeese has spent three winters at a mission, where she j has learned to read and sew. On her seventeenth birthday she fashions a costume which properly sets forth her really great beauty. Chapter 111 Baree’s fight with Oohoomisew was | good medicine for him.. It not only j gave him great confidence in himself, but it also cfeared the fever of ugli ness from his blood. He no longer snapped and snarled at things as he went on through the night. His wound was much less painful the next day, and by nightfall he scarcely had noticed it at all. Since his almost tragic end at the hands of Nepeese, he had been traveling in a general northeasterly direction, follow ing instinctively the run of the water ways ; but his progress had been slow, and when darkness came again he was not more than eight or ten miles from the hole into which he had fallen after the Willow had shot him. All sounds now held a meaning for Baree. Swiftly he was coming into his knowledge of the wilderness. His eyes gleamed; his blood thrilled. For many minutes at a time He scarcely moved. But of all the sounds that ca.me to him, the wolf-cry thrilled him most Again and agm’n he listened to Jt At times it was far away, so far that it was like a whisper, dying aw ay . almost before it reached him; and then again TF would come to him full* > throated, hot with the breath of the idiase, calling him to the red thrill of the hunt, to the wild orgy of torn flesh and running blood —calling, calling, ..calling. Tiiat was it, calling him te , hliT own kin, to the twine of his bone and the flesh of his flesh —to the wild, fierce hunting packs of his mother’s j tribe! It was Gray Wolf’s voice seek ing him in the night —Gray Wolf’s blood inviting him to the Brotherhood of the Pack. Baree trembled as he listened. In his throat he whined Softly. He edged to the sheer face of a rock. He wanted to go; nature was urging him to go. But the call of the wild was struggling against odds; for in him i was the dog, with its generations of j subdued and sleeping instincts all that night the dog in him kept Baree to the top of his rock. Next morning Baree found many Crawfish along the creek, and he feasted on their succulent flesh until he felt that he would never be hungry again. Nothing had tasted quite so good since he had eaten the partridge of which he had robbed Sekoosew the ermine. In the middle of the afternoon Baree came into a part of the forest that was very quiet and very peaceful. The creok had deepened. In places its banks swept out until they formed guM’ii nonds. Twice he made consider able- detours to get around these ponds, lie trave’od very quietly, listening and watching. Not since the ill-fated day ho had left the old windfall had he fdi CjV to so much at borne as iow. It i to Mm Meat at las i;e was treat I '*?', ■ whith be kik- and Vbi-e bnd friends. Pei haps this was another miracle myuterv o t instinct —of nature. For he was in old Leaver-tooth’s domain. It was here that his father and mother had hunted in the days before he was born. It was not far from here that Kazan and Beaver-tooth had fought that mighty duel under water, from which Kazan had escaped with his life with out another breath to lose. The forest grew deeper. It was wonderful. There was no undergrowth, and traveling under the trees was like being in a vast, mystery-filled cavern through the roof of which the light of day broke softly, brightened here and there by golden splashes of the sun. For a mile Baree made his way quietly j through this forest. He saw 7 nothing but a few winged flittings of birds; there was almost no sound. Then he came to a still larger pond. Around this pond there was a thick growth of alders and willows; the lurger trees had thinned out. He saw the glimmer of afternoon sunlight on the water — and then, all at once, he heard life. There had been few changes in Beaver-tooth’s colony since the days of his feud with Kazan and the others. Old Beaver-tooth was still older. He was fatter. He slept a great deal, and perhaps he was less cautious. lie was dozing on the great mud-and hrushwood dam of which he had been engineer in chief, when Baree came out softly on a high bank thirty or forty feet away. So noiseless had Baree been that none of the beavers bad seen or heard him. lie squatted himself flat on his belly, hidden be hind a tuft of grass, and with eager interest watched every movement. Beaver-tooth was rousing himself. He =?tood on his short legs for a moment; then he tilted himself up on his broad, flat tail like a soldier at attention, and with a sudden whistle dived into the pond with a great splash. In another moment it seemed to Baree that the pond was alive with beavers. Heads and bodies appeared and disappeared, rushing this way and that through the water in a manner that amazed and puzzled him. It was the colony’s evening frolic Tails hit the water like fiat hoards. Odd whis tlings rose above the splashing —and then as suddenly as it had begun, the play came to an end. There were probably twenty beavers, not counting the young, and as if guided by a com mon signal—something which Baree had not heard —they became so quiet that hardly a sound could be heard in the pond. Asew 7 of them sank un der the water and disappeared entirely, but most of them Baree could watch as they drew themselves out on shore. The beavers lost no time in getting at t.heir labor, and Baree watched and listened without so much as rustling a blade of the grass in which he was concealed. He was trying to under | stand. He was striving to place these curious and comfortable-looking crea tures in his knowledge of things. And then, close under him —not more than ten feet from where he lay—he saw 7 something that almost gave voice to the puppyish longing for compnnion | ship that was in him. ! Down there, on a clean strip of the shore tiiat rose out of the soft mud of the pond, waddled fat little Umisk and three of his playmates. Umisk was I just about Baree’s age, perhaps a week or two younger. But he was fully as heavy, and almost as wide as he was long. Nature can produce no four-footel creature that is more lov able than a baby beaver, unless it is a baby bear; and Umisk would have taken first prize at any beaver baby show in the world. His three com panions were a hit smaller. They came waddling from behind a low wil low, making queer little chuckling noises, their little flat tails dragging like tiny sledges behind them. They were fat and furry, and mighty friend ly looking to Baree, and his heart beat a sudden, swift pit-a-pat of joy. But Baree did not move. lie scarce ly breathed. And then, suddenly, Umisk turned on one of his playmates and bowled him over. Instantly the ot two were on Umisk, and the four ’ittie bc-averS rolled over and over, kicking with their short feet and spat* ting with th?!r tP.i I **, and *>n the time emitting soft. Utile IsqilortUifig cries. Baree knew that it was not fight, but frolic. He rose up on his feet. He forgot where he was—forgot every thing in the world but those play ing, furry halls. For the moment ull the hard training nature had . been giving him was lost. He was no longer a fighter, no longer a hunter, no longer a seeker after food. He wat* a puppy, and in him there rose a de sire that w 7 as greater than hunger He wanted to go down there with Umisk and his little chums and roll and play. He wanted to tell them, ff such a thing were possible, that he had lost his mother and his home, and ! that he had been having a mighty hard ! time of it, and that he would like to i stay with them and their mothers and fathers if they didn’t care. In his throat there came the least bit of a whine. It was so low that Umisk and his playmates did not hear it. They were tremendously busy. Softly Baree took his first step to ward them, and then another—and at last he stood on the narrow strip of shore within half a dozen feet of them. His sharp little ears were pitched for ward, and he was wiggling his tail as fast as he could, and every muscle in his body was trembling in anticipation. It was then that Umisk saw him, and bis fat little body became suddenly as •noticnless as a stone. “Hello!” said Baree, wiggling his whole body and talkin'# as plainly as ! a human tongue could talk. “Do you j care if I play with-you?” ! Umisk made no resnonse. Hb- | playmates now had their eyes cm Ba ree They didn’t make a mme. They Looked stuunf>i. Four pairs of staring, wondering eyes were fixed on thn stranger. Baree made another effort. He groveled on his forelegs, while his tail and hindlegs continued to wiggle, anil with a sniff lie grubbed a bit of stick between his teeth. “Come on —let me in,” he urged. ‘‘l know how to play!” He tossed the stick in the air as if to prove what he was saying, and gave a little yap. Umisk and his brothers were like dummies. And then, of a sudden, some one saw Baree. It was a big beaver swim ming down the pond with a sapling timber for the new pond that was un der way. Instantly he loosed his hold and faced the shore. And then, like the report of a rifle, there came the crack of his big fiat tail on the water— , » I Know How to Play. J the beaver’s signal of danger tlmt on a quiet night cun be heard half a mile away. “Danger,” it warned. “Danger—dan ger—danger!” Scarcely had the signal gone forth when tails were cracking in all direc tions —in the pond, in the hidden ca nals, in the thick willows and alders. To Umisk and his companions they said: “Run for your lives!” Baree stood rigid and motionless now. In amazement he watched the lour little heavers plunge into the pond and disappear. He heard the sounds of other and heavier bodies striking the water. And then there followed a J strange and disquieting silence. Softly j Baree whined, and his whine was al- { most a sobbing cry. Why had Umisk and his little mates run away from him? A great loneliness swept over him—a loneliness greater even than that of his first night away from His mother. He had not found comradeship. Ami his heart was very sad. Chapter IV For two or three days Baree’s ex cursions after food took him farther j away from the pond. But each after- ! noon lie returned to it —until the third day, when he discovered a new creek, and Wakayoo. The creek was fully two miles back in the forest. It sa.’ig merrily over a gravelly bed and be tween chasm walls of split rock. It formed deep pools and foaming eddies, and where Baree first struck it, the air trembled with the distant thunder of a waterfyll. It was much pleasanter t!i an the dark and silent beaver stream. It seemed possessed of life, and the rush and tumult of it —the song and thunder of the water —gave to Baree entirely new sensations. He made his way along it slowly and cau tiously, and it was because of this slowness and caution that he came suddenly and unobserved upon Waka yOQ. the big black bear, hard at work fishing. Waknyoo stood knee-deep in a paol that had formed behind a sand bar, and he was having tremendously good luck. Even as Baree shrunk back, h!s eyes popping at sight of this monster he bad seen blit once before, in tho gloom of night, one of Wnkayoo’s big paws sent a great SplUsh of water high in the air, and h fish landed on the pebbly shore. A little while before the suckers had run up the creek in thou sands to spawn, and the rapid lower ing of the water had caught many of them in these prison pools. Wakayoo’s fat, sleek body was evidence of the prosperity this circumstance had brought him. Although it was a little past the “prime” season for bearskins, Wakayoo’s coat was splendidly thick and black. , For a quarter of an hour Baree watched him while he knocked fish out of the pool. When at last he stopped there were twenty or thirty fish among the stones, some of them dead and others still flopping. From where he !ay flattened out between two rocks, Baree could hear the crunching of flesh and bone ns the bear devoured his dinner. It 'sounded good, and the fresh smell of fish filled him with n craving that had hever been roused by crawfish or even partridge. In spite o-f his fat and hfs size, Wakayoo was ndt a glutton, and after he had erften his fourth fish he pawed all the others together in a pile, partly covered them by raking up sand and (tones with his long "laws and finished .'ds wr.;k of eachlng by breaking dawn a small balsam sapling so that the !Uh vere entirely concealed. Then ho Icm "*ered slowlv away in the direction of h" nimbling waterfall. Twenty serf'~d« after the lavt of 1 Wakayoo had disappeared in a c* THE CHATHAM RECORD the creak, Baree was under the broken j balsam. He dragged out a fish that J was still alive. He ate the whole of it, and it was delicious. Baree now found fliat Wakayoo had solved the food problem for him, and this day he did not return to the beaver pond, nor the next. The big bear was incessantly fishing up an<l down the creek, and day after day Baree continued his feasts. For a week life was exceedingly pleasant. And then came the break the change that was destined to mean as much for Baree as that other day, long ago, had meant for Kazfln, his father, ’when he killed the man-brute in the edge of,the wilderness. This change came on the day when, in trotting around a great rock near the waterfall, Baree found him self face to face with Pierrot the hun ter and Nepeese, the star-eyed girl who had shot him in the edge of the clearing. It was Nepeese whom he saw first. If it had been Pierrot, he would have turned back quickly. But again the blood of his forebear was rousing strange tremblings within him. Was it like this that the first woman had looked to Kazan? Baree stood still. Nepeese was not more than tw r enty feet from him. She sat on a rock, full in the early morning sun, and was brushing out her wonder ful hair. Her lips parted. Her eyes shone In an instant like stars. One hand remained poised, weighted with the jet tresses. She recognteed him. She saw the white star an hi« breast and the white tip on his ear, and un der her breath she whispered, “Uchi moosis! —“The dog-pup!” It was the wild dog she had shot —and thought had died! The evening before Pierrot and Ne peesa had btiilt a shelter of balsams behind the big rock, and on a small white plot of sand Pierrot was kneel ing over a fire preparing breakfast while the Willow arranged her hair. He raised his head to speak to her, ] and saw Baree. In that instant the » spell was broken. Baree saw the man -1 beast as he rose to his feet. Like a shot he was gone. Scarcely swifter was he than Ne peese. “Depechez vous, mon pere!” she cried. “It is the dog-pup! Quick —” In the floating cloud of her hair she sped after Baree like the wind. Pier rot followed, and in going he caught up his riile. It was difficult for him to catch up with the Willow. She was like a wild spirit, her little moccasined feet scarcely touching the sand as she j ran up the long bar. H was wonderful to see the lithe swiftness of her, and that wonderful hair streaming out in the sun. Even now, in this moment’s excitement, it made Pierrot thin’; of | McTaggart, the Hudson Bay company’s J factor over at Lac Bain, and what he j had said yesterday. Half the night Pierrot had lain awake, gritting his teeth at thought of it; and this morn ing, before Baree ran upon them, he had looked at Nepeese more closely than ever before in his life. She was beautiful. She was lovelier even than Wyola, her princess mother, who was dead. That hair—which made men stare as if they could not believe! Those eyes—like pools filled with won ! derful starlight! Her slimness, that j was like a flower! And McTaggart had said — Floating back to him there came an excited cry. “Hurry, Nootawe! He has turned into the blind canyon. He cannot es cape us now.” She was panting when he came lip to her. The French blood in her glowed a vivid crimson in her cheeks and lips. Her white teeth gleamed like milk. “In there!” And she pointed. They went in. Ahead of them Baree was running for his life. He sensed instinctively the fact that these wonderful two legged beings he had looked upon were all-powerful. And they were after him! He could bear them. Ne peese was following 91 most as swiftly as he could run. Suddenly he turned Into a cleft between two grqat rocks. Twenty feet in, his way was barred, and he ran back. When he darted out, straight up the canyon, Nepeese was not a dozen yards behind him, and he Saw Pierrot almost at her side. The Willow gave a cry. “Mana —mann —there he is!” She caught her breath, and darted into a copse of young balsams where Baree had disappeared. Like a great entangling web her loose* hair impeded her in the brush, and with an encour aging cry to Pierrot she stopped to gather it over her shoulder as he ran past her. She lost only a moment or two, and was ufter him. Fi'fty yards ahead of her Pierrot gave a warning shout. Baree had turned. Almost In the same breath he was tearing over his back trail, directly toward the Willow. He did not see her in time to stop or swerve aside, and Nepeese flung herself down in his path. For an instant or two they were together. Baree felt the smother of her hair, and the clutch of her hands. Then he squirmed away and darted again to ward the blind end of the canyon. Nepeese sprang to her feet. She was panting—and laughing. Pierrot came back wildly, and the Willow pointed beyond him. “I had him —and he didn’t bite!” she said, breathing swiftly. She still pointed to the end of the canyon, and ' she said again: “1 had him—and he ! didn’t bite me, Nootawe!” 1 That was the wonder of it. She lin'd been reckless—and Baree had not bit ten her! It was then, with her eyes shining nt Pierrot, and the smile fad ing slowly from her lips, that she spoke softly the word “Baree.” which in her tongue meant “the wild dog” a little brother of the wolf. Casln. H Live Poultry and Fresh Lifl We'will open a produce house at m ■ Friday, April 30, where we will pay the cash market prices for Live Poultry Ur Eggs. We shall be located just across the ■ from the Walden-Thomas Furniture Store# The house will be open six days in I Suggestions 1. Use well ventilated boxes, i fyou haven’t coops, for bringing in poultry. 2. Don’t put too much poultry in one coop or box. Moncore Poultr y & Egg (J Moncure, N. C. STATEMENT PAPER MILL MUTUAL FIRE INSURANCE COMPANY fl BOSTON, MASS. CONDITION DECEMBER 31, 1925. AS SHOWN BY STATEMENT J Amount Ledger Assets Dec. 31st previous year, $706,944.05; Total, , $ Income—From Policyholders, $430,646.41; Miscellaneous, $34,265.03; Total, si;fl Disbursements —To Policyholders, $15,951.27; Miscellaneous, $468,285.31: Total, _ 48ifl Fire Risks—Written or renewed during year, $76,363,045 In force, 91.49(1 J ASSETS ' fl Value of Bonds and Stocks, SGcij® Cash in Company’s Office, Deposited in Trust Companies and Banks on interest Agents’ balances, representing business written subsequent to October 1, 1925, 20,'fl Agents’ balances, representing business written prior to October 1. 1925, (fl Interest and Rents due and accrued, 9,]fl All other Assets, as detailed in statement, 22.fiifl Total, S? 691)1 £ess Assets not admitted, pfl Total admitted Assets. $768.71® LIABILITIES Net amount of unpaid losses and claims, 8 4.026 H Unearned premiums, 312,963 fl Salaries, rents, expenses, bills, accounts, fees, etc., due or accrued 50ofl Estimated amount payable for Federal, State, county and municipal taxes due or accrued. Kiifl Total amount of all Liabilities except Capital, SSI', jfl Surplus over all liabilities. $451,255.27 Surplus as regards Policvhoiders, Total Liabilit es, $768,1fl BUSINESS IN NORTH CAROLINA DURING 1925 Fire Risks written. S3BB 871; Premiums received, Losses incurred —Fire, $178.02, Paid, fl President, D. W. Lane Secretary, G. H. GibsiH Treasurer, D. W. Lane Home Office, 185 Franklin St.. Boston, Mass. - Attorney for service: STACEY W. WADE, Insurance Commissione^H Raleigh. N. C. Manager for North Carolina Home Office STATE OF NORTH CAROLINA, (Seal) INSURANCE DEPARTMEMfI Raleigh, February sth.fl I. STACEY W. WADE, Insurance Commissioner do hereby cernffl the above is a true and correct abstract of the statement of the rap?:H Mutual Fire Insurance Company, of Boston, Mass, filed with this : j fl ment, showing the condition of said Company, on the 31st day of DcceM 1925. • ’ Witness my hand and official seal, the day and year above wntteß STACEY W. WADE, Insurance Commiss* 1 STATEMENT NORTHWESTERN MUTUAL FIRE ASSOCIATION SEATTLE, WASHINGTON CONDITION DECEMBER 31, 1925, AS SHOWN BY STATEMENT isl Amount Ledger Assets Dec. 31st previous year, $2,603,970.38; ■ Increase paid-up Capital, $ ; Total, $ 2,604, ■ Income—From Policvhoiders, $3,808,126.53; Miscellaneous, fl $113,639.73; Total, 3 ’ J: ”fl Disbursements —To Policyholders, $1,369,195.17; Miscellaneous, $2,013,614.22; Total, Fire Risks—Written or renewed during year, $516,284,741 m In force, 441,0* All Other Risks—Written or renewed during year, $40,495,984; m In force, ASSETS M j Value of Real Estate * 01 7-fl Mortgage Loans on Real Estate “J'fl Value of Bonds and Stocks Cash in Company’s Office # Deposited in Trust Companies and Banks not on interest ' Deposited in Trust Companies and Banks on interest Agents’ balances, representing business written subsequent to ■ October 1, 1925, .... I Agents’ balances, representing business written prior to ~fl October 1, 1925, Bills receivable, taken for fire risks, g fl Bills receivable, taken for other risks, 29.JH Interest and Rents due and accrued All other Assets, as detailed in statement, $3 231Jfl Total, ' ’fi2ifl Less Assets not admitted «qilß,'fl Total admitted Assets, LIABILITIES $ Net amount of unpaid losses and claims, 2 ; 093ifl Unearned ’premiums, , ’ i2,7fl Salaries, rents, expenses, bills, accounts, fees, etc., due or accrue , Estimated amount payable for Federal, State, county and municipal taxes due or accrued, 2'^fl Contingent commissions, or other charges due or accrued, Reinsurance and return premiums due other companies, 22-? fl All other liabilities, as detailed in statement, 9 413,(fl Total amount of all Liabilities except Capital, 705,''fl Surplus as regards Policyholders, $3,118* Total Liabilities, T _._ IQ9 =" fl BUSINESS IN NORTH CAROLINA DURING g3 * Fire Risks written, $2,734,408; Premiums received, All other Risks written, $17,140; Premwms received, 22* Losses incurred —Fire, $16,614.45; Paid, r Rhod eS President, F. J. Martin Secretary, vY< d. , Treasurer, Jno. C. Keith , Home Office, Central Bldg., 710 Third Ave., Seattle, isß i®n«fj Attorney for service: STACEY W. WADE, Insurance - j Raleigh, N. C. , Manager for North Carolina Home Office „ 1 STATE OF NORTH CAROLL ' (Seal) / INSURANCE DEPART^ Raleigh, F ebr "'{ er ti?' I. STACEY W. WADE, Insurance Commissioner do heie '; f t he >1 the above is a true and correct abstract of the statenw-n s p : 1 western Mutual Fire Association, of Seattle, Wash. v 0 f D^ e j moot, showing the condition of said Company, on the oD -1925. , hnve writ* Witness my hand and official seal, the day and year a STACEY W. WADE, Insurance lu Thursday, -teJ 3. Don’t tie i e J poultry and J them in sacks,‘l 4. Come early 1,1 void the rush. 1 5. Don’t stuff iV.I poultry day o f|