“NG One DUT 2a Coward WOUIO Perry 
this disagreeable Shaw creature to run 
effaira in anch a high handed way.” 
said her ladyship. ‘‘Of course Cecil 18 
not a coward.” 
“Thank you, my dear. Never fear, 
ladies and gentlemen. I shall attend 
to this person. He won’t soon forget 
what I have to say to him,” promised 
Lord Bazelhurst, mentally estimating 
the number of brandies and soda It 
would require in preparation. 
“this afternoon?’ asked his wife, 
with cruel insistence. 
“Yes, Evelyn, if I can find him.” 
And so it was that shortly after 4 
o’clock Lord Bazelhurst, unattended at 
his own request, rode forth like a 
Lochinvar, his steed headed bravely 
toward Shaw’s domain, his back fac- 
ing his own home with a military in- 
difference that won applause from the 
assembled house party. 
“T’ll face him alone,” he had said a 
trifle thickly for some unknown rea- 
son when the duke offered to accom- 
pany him. It also might have been 
noticed as he cantered down the drive 
that his legs did not stick out so stiffly, 
nor did his person bob so exactingly as 
on previous but peaceful expeditions. 
In fact, he seemed a bit limp. But 
his face was set determinedly for the 
border line and Shaw. 
CHAPTER It, 
In Which 2 Young Woman Trespasses. 
R. SHAW was a tall young man 
of thirty or thereabouts, smooth 
faced, good looking and athlet- 
ic. It was quite true that he 
wore a red coat when tramping through 
his woods and vales, not because it 
was fashionable, but because he had a 
vague horror of being shot at by some 
nearsighted Nimrod from Manhattan. 
A crowd of old college friends had just 
left him alone in the hills after spend- 
ing several weeks at his place, and 
his sole occupation these days, aside 
from directing the affairs about the 
house and grounds, lay in the efforts 
to commune with nature by means of 
a shotgun and a fishing rod. His most 
constant companion was a pipe, his 
most loyal follower a dog. 
As he sauntered slowly down the riv- 
er road that afternoon, smiling retro- 
spectively from time to time as he 
looked into the swift, narrow stream 
that had welcomed his adversaries of 
the morning, he little thought of the 
encounter in store for him. The little 
mountain stream was called a river by 
courtesy because it was yards wider 
than the brooks that struggled impo- 
tently to surpass it during the rainy 
season. But it was deep and turbu- 
lent in places, and it had a roar at 
times that commanded the respect of 
the foolhardy. 
“The poor devils might have drowz 
ed, eh, Bonaparte?” he mused, -»l- 
-dressing the dog at his side. “Con- 
founded nuisance, getting wet after 
NORTH SHORE BREEZE 
all, though. Lord Bazelhurst wants 
war, does he? That log down there is 
the dividing line in our river, eh? And 
I have to stay on this side of it. By 
George, he’s a meai spirited person, 
and it’s his wife’s land, too. I won- 
der what she’s like. It’s a pity a fel- 
low can’t have a quiet, decent sum- 
mer up here in the hills. Still’’—light- 
ing his pipe—‘‘I dare say I can give 
as well as I take. If I stay off his 
land they’ll have to keep off of mine. 
Hullo, who’s that? A man, by George, 
but he looks like a partridge As T 
Lord Bazelhurst Rode Forth Like a 
Lochinvar. 
live, Bonaparte is pointing. Ha, ha, 
that’s one on you, Bony!” Mr. Shaw 
stepped into the brush at the side of 
the path and watched the movements 
of the man at the “log,’’ now less than 
100 yards away. 
Lord Bazelhurst, attired in his browa 
corduroys and his tan waistcoat, cer- 
tainly suggested the partridge as he 
hopped nimbly about in the distant 
foreground, cocking his ears from 
time to time with all the aloofness of 
that wily bird. He was, strange to re- 
late, some little distance from Bazel- 
hurst territory, an actual if not a con- 
fident trespasser upon Shaw’s domain. 
His horse, however, was tethered to a 
sapling on the safe side of the log, 
comfortably browsing on Bazelhurst 
grass. Randolph Shaw, an unseen ob 
server, was considerably mystified by 
the actions of his unusual visitor. 
His lordship paced, back and fortb 
re SP 
With a stride that grew firmer as time 
brought forth no hostile impediments. 
His monocle ever and anon was direct- 
ed both high and low in search of Shaw 
or his henchmen, while his face was 
rapidly resolving itself into a bloom of 
rage. 
“Confound him,” his lordship was 
muttering, looking at his timepiece 
with stern disapproval, ‘he can’t ex- 
pect me to wait here all day. I’m on 
his land, and I'll stay here as long as I 
like!” (At this juncture he involunta- 
rily measured the distance between 
himself and the log.) “I knew it was 
all a bluff, his threat to put me off. 
Hang it all, where is the fellow? I 
won’t go up to his beastly house. I 
won’t gratify him by going up there 
even to give him his orders. Demmed 
ead, blowhard! Five o’clock, confound 
him! I dare say he’s seen me and has 
crawled off into the underbrush. He’s 
afraid of me; he’s a coward. It is as 
I feared. I can’t see the rascal. There’s 
only one thing left for me to do. VU 
pin a note to this tree. Confound him, 
he shall hear from me. He’ll have to 
read it.” 
Whereupon his lordship drew forth 
a large envelope from his pocket and 
proceeded to fasten it to the trunk of 
a big tree which grew in the middle of 
the road, an act of premeditation which 
showed strange powers of prophecy. 
How could he, except by means of 
clairvoyance, have known before leav- 
ing home that he was not to meet his 
enemy face to face? 
As Mr. Shaw afterward read the 
note and tossed it into the river, it is 
only fair that the world should know 
its contents while it hung unfolded to 
the bark of the tall tree. It said in a 
very scrawling hand: “Mr. Shaw, I 
have looked all over this end of your 
land for you this afternoon. You 
doubtless choose to avoid me. So be 
it. Let me state once and for all that 
your conduct is despicable. I came 
here personally to tell you to keep off 
my land henceforth and forever. I 
will not repeat this warning, but will 
instead, if you persist, take such sum- 
mary measures as would befit a per- 
son of your instincts. I trust you will 
feel the importance of keeping off.” 
To this his lordship bravely signed 
himself. 
“There,” he muttered, again holding 
his watch and fob up for close inspec- 
tion, ‘“‘he’ll not soon overlook what 
I’ve said in that letter, confound him!” 
He had not observed the approach of 
Randolph Shaw, who now stood, pipe 
in hand, some twenty paces behind 
him in the road. 
“What the devil are you doing?” de- 
manded a strong bass voice. It had 
the éffect.cf a cannon shot, 
(To be Continued). 
a a 
