324 you, dear, to make life worth living, and I've sometimes thought just for a moment that you cared the same for me-of course I wasn't sure." "I've never thought you careless," said Her Grace evasively, after a pause. words sounded kind and gracious, but there was in them a tone of remoteness he had not expected. Looking into her eyes as he talked to her he thought at first he saw there momentarily the light of a great happiness; then a look of abstraction came into them as if another thought took possession of her mind; and this in turn changed as her usual tantalizing humor made its appearance again. Perhaps, he thought, this explained her evasive answer. "Won't you try me?" he urged, smiling. "You've done me the highest honor in your power and I fully appreciate all it means and thank you," she replied, more seriously, "but do not ask an immediate answer. Our experience this morning has upset me a little and I can't think clearly. Give me untillet me see until to-morrow-when I become your chauffeur," she finished, smiling. "Chauffeur for life, I hope," he said, fervently. III. Two days later found Robert Hamilton up betimes in the morning; that is to say, long before the other hotel guests had thought of such a thing. It was no newly acquired habit with him, for he loved the open-the great outdoors; he loved the restless, everchanging sea, and these are best in the After the humidity early morning. of the city in midsummer the cool air laden with dew, the salt sea breeze, the singing of birds, the sweet scents of hay-making, of flowers, and, above all, the freedom to come and go at will made life seem glorious. Two busy weeks in the city forced upon him by the details of dramatizing his latest novel, interspersed with the writing of a few short stories and followed in alternation by a few days at the seashore had been his life program through the summer. Reporters, curious about the new play, had not helped to make his summer an easy one, but he needed every word they would write to assist in keeping him before the public. Literary success was very pleasing, especially after the struggle he had been through to attain it, but the enjoyment of outdoor life seemed even more gratifying just then. Strolling toward the hotel wharf Robert seated himself on the steps leading down to the float, inhaling deep breaths of the cool salt air as he watched the little white boats at their moorings here and there on the bay. It was not long before his attention was attracted by a young woman raising a sail on a neat sloop nearby, which quickly came about and made for the wharf. It was a beautiful little craft with spotless sails suggestive of the wings of some great sea bird, but Robert's attention went not to the sloop itself but to the girl who sailed it. Her graceful beauty as she stood, one hand occupied with the tiller the other a skipper, holding the sheet, and her apparent confidence in herself as aroused Robert's admiration in a manner too spontaneous and genuine to be concealed. He stood ready to fend off the bow as the boat reached the float, calling cheerily, "Good morning, Cap'n." "Good morning, Mr. Hamilton; won't you tie her up while I pump out last night's shower? You might wet those spotless shoes if you came aboard," she laughed merrily, throwing him a rope. Robert made a half hitch over a wooden cleat on the float and then looked down inquiringly at Grace. "How about your own?" he asked. "I haven't shipped a drop and I've been out half an hour already." With this she began pumping, the muscles. outlining themselves under the brown. skin with charming boldness as she worked. "One can find you out here almost before light. Seriously, Miss Spofford, do you ever sleep?" "Lots. Come down here and take a turn. What are men made for I'd like to know. That for not getting up earlier," she cried, commandingly, giving up her place at the pump. Although plying the handle vigorously Robert's eyes followed the girl sturdily hauling up the sail preparatory for getting under way. Certainly no other women of his acquaintance were tanned so brown; of this the low-cut yoke of her linen dress with its short sleeves gave ample proof. Most members of the fair sex who had come under his observation gave constant thought to their pink and white complexions, preserving them as best they might with sun hats, veils, powders, and lotions. But this girl was different; she seemed almost a part of the great outdoors to which her whole being seemed to respond; she loved the sunshine and was proud of the tan. The sail hoisted, she stood out on the bow, one arm clasped tightly about the mast for support, her head thrown back and a dreamy, far-away smile on her lips, her eyes on the distant blue horizon. The big sail, which had shadowed her before, slowly shifted a little with a change of the wind and she stood irradiated in sunlight, her brown hair bright with countless shades of dark amber. Robert drew in his breath sharply; it was the most beautiful picture he had ever seen. Could she ever have appealed to anybody else as she did to him that moment? Instantly he thought of George Burnham, but their friendship had always seemed too obviously platonic to be considered seriously because of several years' duration. He suddenly became aware that the object of his musings was smiling down upon him as he sat in the cockpit, the pump handle motionless in his hand. "A penny for your thoughts; you look worried." Her blue eyes danced with merriment like the waves about her sparkling in reflected light. Perhaps she had already divined something of his thoughts. "Is this enforced hard labor to be rewarded by a sail?" he asked, evasively. one "All true Americans answer question by asking another," she replied, with equal evasiveness. "Do they?" "There, what did I tell you!" she laughed. "Caught the first time. You deserve a disappointment for not being out earlier," she continued, reprovingly, "but I forgive you this once. I thought you were not coming at all. Everybody seems to fail me lately. Even Mr. Burnham, who promised to teach me to drive his roadster yesterday afternoon, has not been seen at the hotel since the day before. How could he have done so?" She took her place at the tiller while he cast off. The sail filled with the fresh breeze and the little craft sped merrily down the bay. Robert seated himself opposite her, continuing the conversation. "Haven't you heard?" he asked. "No. What do you mean?" face became serious at once. Her "I dislike very much to be the one to tell you, Miss Spofford. I thought, of course, you knew. It seems he got a wire night before last telling him that owing to a slump in Wall Street the Burnham Iron Company has failed. He and his father are penniless. I'm sorry for the poor fellow; it's rough on a chap who expected millions. He took it like a man, though, and says he will sell all his horses and automobiles, as well as some real estate to help cover the debts. He and his father have both got the stuff in them that makes for success, and I feel sure that they will win out yet." She uttered not a word, but the sail was continued in silence, each wrapped in thought and waiting for a word from the other. They were far down the bay now with nothing to break the silence but the gurgling of the water under the keel and the thumping of the waves against the bow. "Most breakfast time," said Robert, finally consulting his watch. She threw over the tiller and the boat quickly came about. "I almost wish we weren't going back," she said. T THE CATTLE INDUSTRY OF BOSTON By WILLARD C. SCHOULER THE cattle brought into Boston from the West, and the cattle shipped from Boston to Great Britain, are among the standard articles of the city's commerce; and the business within the last few years has attained to considerable proportions, both as regards numbers and valua tion. The great range country, where most of the beef cattle are raised, extends from Texas on the south, up into Canada on the north, and from the Missouri river, on the east, to the Pacific slope of the Rocky mountains, on the west. A large proportion of the cattle are fattened in the great corn belt of eastern Nebraska, Iowa, Missouri, Illinois, etc., the distributing point being Chicago, from which point the cattle are shipped by rail to the export cities of Baltimore, Philadelphia, New York, Boston, Portland, and Montreal, cattle from Canada being shipped from the last three ports. The receipts of cattle in Boston from January 1, 1907, to January 1, 1909, and the exports of cattle from January I, 1907, to August 17, 1909, are: 1907, receipts 243,705, exports 126,568; 1908, receipts 189,731, exports 114,493; 1909, exports 69,553. The ports where these cattle are received are Liverpool, London, Manchester, and Glasgow. The number of cattle carried on the steamers from January 1, 1908, to August 17, 1909, are: Cattle received 1907, 243.705; cattle received 1908, 189,731; total, 433,436. Cattle exported 1907, 126,568; cattle exported 1908, 114,493; cattle exported to August 17, 1909, 69.553; total, including one cow to Copenhagen, 310,614. Cattle received, 1907-1908, 433,436; cattle exported, 1907-1908, 241, 061; cattle consumed in Massachusetts, 192,375. Valuation of cattle shipped from Boston, 1907, $10,450,935; valuation of cattle shipped from Boston, 1908, $8,624,300; valuation of cattle shipped from Boston to August 17 (approximately), 1909, $5,775,000; total valuation since January 1, 1907, $24,850,235. Before a steer is safely on board the steamer at Boston his life is a very interesting one. To gain an insight into the great extent of territory covered by the cattle industry, and the time and trouble taken with them during their three years or more of life previous to shipment to the beef markets abroad, let us trace the life of a steer from its birth to its landing on the docks at Berkenhead, England. We left Dodge City with four tousand head of cattle-cows, calves and steers-which we were to drive onto a ranch situated in the northwestern part of Colorado, on a tributary of the Green river, up into the heart of the Rocky mountains, in the Mintah range, west of the Rohan mountains. The day after we hit the trail a white calf was born. Each day it walked a little with its mother and when it became tired was carried in the "mess" wagon or by some of the riders, the men in turn carrying it before them on the saddle. All became attached to him we called him. "Whitey"-and he became our mascot. At the end of the five months that we were on the trail he was quite a large, respectable calf. Every morning before sunrise we were roused out of our sleep by the cook's calling out "Grub Pile! Grub Pile!" and out we would crawl from our blankets and tarpaulins, dress cur "Let's make believe we aren't," he answered, and then there was silence again. "I wonder if it means to you what it does to me?" he found himself saying after a while. "All the hurry and worry of the world behind us and that vast mysterious dimness of conjecture and dreams stretching out ahead. It goes down into my soul and encourages me to attempt all manner of things possible and impossible." "I think it goes down into my soul, too, for it always makes me feel small and worthless and mean. Tell me some of the fine things you would do." "Well," he said, looking directly into the shining eyes opposite him, "if I only had the courage, I should take the tiller and we would sail away, you and I, out of the bay over the sea of dreams, far beyond the horizon into another kingdom-my kingdom-where there is nothing but happiness and the sunshine you and I love so well. Every man has such a kingdom. They are all beautiful countries, but so hard to find that unless there is mutual love between himself and his companion the boat is likely to be wrecked on the rocks. I think you and I could find the course and that the voyage would be a safe and happy one. Will you help me find my kingdom of happiness, dear?" "Really, Mr. Hamilton," she said after a pause, blushing bewitchingly, "I don't know what to say to you. I hadn't realized before that our friendship meant so much to you. I appreciate your interest in me, though, and feel sure that it is sincere, but I must have time to think-it is such an important step. May I withhold my answ until Friday?" she asked, smiling. "On condition that I teach you to drive my touring car that day, since you were disappointed about Mr. Burnham's," replied Robert. "I must go to the city that morning and the drive in and back should teach you all you need to know." "Agreed," she said. IV. It was scarcely eight o'clock on the Friday morning after receiving news of his father's misfortune that George Burnham appeared at the office of the Burnham Iron Company. Such a condition of affairs as now existed gave him no heart for the gaiety of summer hotel life. He at once broke the news to his mother as gently as possible and they had both returned to the city that night; she to comfort and encourage a husband in distress, he to do what he could for the "poor old Governor." He realized at once that the support of his young shoulders. would mean more to his father just then than ever before, and perhaps together they might put up a successful fight. If not he must go to work at something right away. He did not mind the work, but he knew that things. must be sold, and he loved his horses and automobiles. Then there was Grace! He tried not to think of all the disappointment that name suggested in his present circumstances, but his mind would drift back to her and his broken appointment. She would, of course, hear of his misfortune and understand, he thought, and perhaps even yet his dearest hopes might be realized. A glance out of the window near the desk where he sat presented a picture that was unquestionably disquieting. A big dark blue touring car carrying two persons passed rapidly down the street. The man was Robert Hamilton, and Grace Spofford sitting beside him was driving the car under his watchful eye and occasional instructions. George stepped to the overhanging bay window where he could watch them some little distance down the street. When almost out of sight the driver made an abrupt turn and brought the car to a sudden stop by the curb. He saw Robert enter an office building, leaving Grace in her seat. George continued to gaze abstractedly out of the open window, wrapped in a new chain of thought suggested by the scene before him. Suddenly he |
