The White Desert

ing-block process, which, in its culmination, had determined Barry to take a trip into the West to see for himself. He had believed that it would be a long

mill of which Barry Houston now formed the executive head; to receive the certain statement that somewhere, somehow, something

yes opened slowly, and he stared about him, as though in non-understanding wonderment, finally to center upon the window ahead and retain his gaze there, oblivious of the sudden tensity of the thin-faced Thayer. Barry Houston was playing for time, playing a game of identities. In the same room was a man he felt sure to be an enemy, a man who had in his care everything Barry Houston possessed in the world, every hope, every dream, every chance for the wiping out of a thing that had formed a black blot i

into a cynical smile that in days gone by had pas

el

you get

n't k

ide of Two Mile Hill. He picked you up about

ll remained. Thayer moved closer to

r, you know-Thayer, your mana

I a ma

for a moment staring down at Houston. The

anager. You-you haven'

earily, as though the c

what you are t

you're Barry Hou

Am

hen, who

on the b

you tell me. I d

u know yo

e I

moment in disconcerted silence. Again he started to frame a question,

'ti

, o

a funny proposition. Mr. Houston doesn't

ay, as was the hair which hung in short, unbarbered strands about his ears. But the hint of age was nullified by the cocky angle of the blue-knit cap upon his head, the blazing red of his double-breasted pearl-buttoned shirt, the flexible freedom of his muscles as he strode within. Beside him trotted a great gray cross-breed dog, which betokened collie and ti

remembe

id out here with his father-but that doesn't make any difference. The family resemblance is there-he's got his father's eyes and mouth and no

y, then placing a finger to his forehead, in a va

come quietly from the girl

ork-what you say-he will not stick on the job. See-" he gesticulated now with both hands-"eet is like a wall. I see eet with the shell sh

o say "them" and "that there", though the trimness of her dress, the smoothness of her small, well-shod feet, the air of refinement which spoke even before her lips had uttered a word should have told him differently. As for the giant, Ba'tiste, with his outlandish clothing, his corduroy trousers and high-laced, hob-nailed b

ever get

Sometime-no. E

any time limit on

something happen quick, sudden-blooey-he come back, he say 'where am I', and he be back agai

except to drop in every few days and see how he

, o

a piece down the roa

It's too bad

ut the girl and her interest in Fred Thayer, and whether she too might be a part of the machinery which he felt had been set up against him;

n't-don't

rolled back the covering and just as calmly tickled the injured man's feet. More, one long arm had outstretched again, as the giant once more reached for the sole of a foot, to tickle it, then to stand back and boom wit

ather caustically. "Bu

k to the shaggy dog at his side. "L'

uston. "Of course I f

merriment, pointed vaguely in the direction of

sh. Who isn't, on the

ly about the bed in an effort to evade the tickling touch of the trapper's big fingers. Once more Ba'tiste leaned forward and wi

ctly willing to join in on it when I feel better-but now it hurts my arm to be bouncing aro

eakened by his laughter, he reeled to the wall and leaned there, his big arms hanging loosely, the tears rolling down his

will play with us this afternoon! M'sieu l' Ticklefoot! That is he

he love of Mike let me in on the joke. I can't get it. I don't see anything funny in lying here with a broken ar

returned to the foot of the bed and

see people here today, oui, yes? You see, the petite Medaine? Ah, oui!" He clustered his fingers to his lips and blew

is head. Ba't

u Thayer? Oui?

N

u s

saw him

'teese he like the truth, yes, oui. Ba'teese h

sten! P

You see those people? All right. Bon-good. You don' know one. You know the other. Yes? Oui? Ba'teese not know why you do it. Ba'teese n

re cr

trouble. Sometime Ba'teese w

is the-what-you-say, amnesia-the nerve eet no work in the foot. I could tickle, tickle, tickle, and you would not know. But with you-blooey-right away, you feel. So, for some reason, you are, what-you-say?-shamming. But you are Ba'teese'