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part three.
LOGAN’S SAL.
BY G. B. BURGIN,
, ■•His Lordship,” “The Boldro Diamond,” “A Quaker Girl,” "Bread of
* uthor 01 Tears,” "Tomalyn’s Quest,” &c.
Copyrighted, 1886, by G. B. Burgin.
CHAPTER 1.
Logan's Sal came out of the frame Into
(he sun and shook her magnificent red
hair around her wit* the wild untrammel
ed srae e so familiar to the inhabitants of
, he Four Corners-a grace which appeal
ed oven to old Ikey Marston as he lounged
on Labeile's veranda over the way, plan
ning a political programme to wipe out
(he United States from the face of the
earth, and leave his untutored fellow Ca
nadians free from all questions of reci
procity In the matter of trade.
Lo-an's Sal, however, did not care to dis
cus? political questions of any kind on
this beautiful summer morning. As an
Incidental concession to sentiment, and
preparatory to a forthcoming ball she had
cashed her fiery locks with some innocent
vegetable preparation which was held to
have the peculiar property of fixing the
gold in them and of eliminating the ruf
ous hue popularly supposed to pertain ex
clusively to childhood. But when she sat
on an upturned barrel under the red maple
in the yard, and "shood” away the chick
ens who came to look at her, it was evi
dent, to an unprejudiced observer, that
as this bewildering mass of hair which
enshrouded her became dry, so did its fiery
hue assert itself.
At first when Logan’s Sal emerged from
the doorway into the open her hair hung
in heavy, dark, dull folds around her
shapely shoulders. Little whispering
winds played hide and seek among it, riot
ed in and out of the intertwining strands,
or blew the clustered threads apart.
Presently, using her long white fingers as
a primitive comb—no one could account for
gal's long slender fingers; old man Logan’s
digits resembled twists of tobacco squared
at the ends—she parted the clinging masses
and. coming a little forward, waved them
out behind her like golden sails.
The deep, dark hue changed to a lighter
tint, little gleams and glittering motes of
gold came to the surface, caught the light,
absorbed it, and disappeared as the long
tresses swayed back to her shoulders.
The straight masses began to break up
into a soft rich halo round the girl’s nobly
beautiful face, lending a sombre fire to her
blue eyes, which, indeed, were violet in the
shade, and only blue when heaven's own
sky sought to mirror itself in their sunny
depths.
The golden glory of Sal's hair attracted
the notice of a languid young Englishman
who had just been deposited, luggage and
all, in an apathetic group at Labeile’s
door. Someone had taken his portman
teau away and dusted the stranger, who
submitted to the process with as much in
difference as if it did not concern him in
any way. Sal, however, attracted by the
bustle of the departing coach, peered
through her golden environment and met
the stranger's eye. “Who is she?” in
quired that worthy, turning to Ikey.
'That?'’ inquired Ikey, pointing over the
way. “Oh, that's Logan’s Sal.”
"Not bad at all,” critically remarked the
stranger, lazily watching a potato bug en
deavoring to consume the varnish on one
of Ids (the stranger’s) pointed boots.
“Not tad!” declared Ikey. "Not bad!
liry Sal's a tarnation fine woman. Up
right as a ramrod is Sal, with a nose as
straight as the one you see on them little
medals the temperance folks gives away
in Sunday schools and sich like foolish
ness She's six feet In her mocassins ;
souple as a willow wand when the wind
ain t sorter knocked the life outen it. And
ier hand! My! You oughter ha’ seen
ter lay out that drummer chap from Van
kleek Hill when he sold her some stuff for
Plating spoons and she run him down with
her pap s shot-gun after the spoons were
•polled. She just gave him one wipe, and
he sorter went through the bushes on the
tank to sudden glory, an’ his remains were
carted up to Labeile's for repairs. He
mwed afterwards to old Doc. Jimpson a
mule had laid him out.”
■ ' ,law ar.' of this exaggerated and gross
. untruthful tribute to her personal
prowess, Sal sat basking In the sun, look
'll 1 i lf v istf “y. maybe, at the Lau
_ an Hills on the opposite shore. “There
' no men to conquer in this wood” was
, ‘ 8 unconscious cry. for Mr. Hank Pe
irct ly ranked as a human being in
• , e * tlm ution, although she had prom
r the primeval fashions of Four
rners folk, to accompany him to the
Sid Ha * Peters bored her, and Sal
_ not like being bored.
„ ’ e stranger gazed across the village
11 the lambent mass of hair which
a-< 1 ■’’ al from his critical glance.
In' ....^u-eh— familiar with Biblical hls
■ he asked Mr. Marston.
P00R,.,, 'ere, stranger,” said Ikey, ex
•i-,' a hltching-post with a pre
|v“? ° f Hlm wh lch enabled him to hit it
Biv'r lm .T~ ’ere, stranger, It
■ 1 right whar you come from to
hink n S , lona of that Kort on people. We
1 own hyar kinder mean—sorter
tnown KO to speal U and onhealthy. I’ve
i 1 a man taken unwell—suddenly un
■ anger—for Jess’n that, mind you.”
stranger laughed. “All right,” he
,1 ; , w . a * thinking of a lady who wash
hai u "[ and dried it on the housetops,
►as ’ Sll Bathshcba, I think her name
' larH,rm considered. "Don’t you
v. he said thoughtfully. "Who
la., | J o| t that played you for a sucker.
u,.h , anklet k ain’t never done no
In iß hness. I'd like to see her a get
p u l mansard roof when old man Van
-I,* ,'***, heverin’ round. No, sir. He'd
n, .I,l’? 0 * 1 w,, h a pole qulckor'n sud
,hl" was some time ago,” said
fe... , . K r ' caressing his budding mous
h , . 1 " r c right in surmising that
' >"u mention had nothing to do
... ""-the Incident."
n„ l 2* l n l’" said Ikey. “You’ve
1: I- Hathsheba ain't that kind of
i 11 re a stranger, and the boys see
( temporary misunderstanding hav
o : /L hte “® and out ’ m y venerable
na I „ M ‘ 'he stranger, again caress
, , rnoiißtachr, "| et us drown all un-
Mr ; h "wlng bowl, Mr.-Mr.?”
t. y°": "aid Ikey, with Joyful alac
•.’ H,ran ‘ rCr ' flrßt t,me ’
*" not at *al 1
■ ‘>K<r, with languid acorn. "I—ch
fpje Moinin® |
—did mean drinks. Landlord, have the
goodness to assuage Mr. Marston’s thirst.
He is my guest for the—the rest of the
day.”
"Ain’t fair.” hesitated Ikey. “Bein’ a
stranger, you nat’rally don’t know what
I kin do with the best part of a day afore
me and a whiskey bar’l behind me."
"Oh, that’s all right. I’ll risk it.”
"An’ I kin go straight ahead, Mister?”
enquired the gratified Ikey.
“Of course, however devious your ulti
mate movements may be,” said the stran
ger. “ I presume the local lightning
rod has been analysed by you so often that
it is perfectly innocuous?”
"Eh?” blankly enquired Ikey. “You’ve
got me, stranger, I pass.”
The stranger motioned to the landlord to
bring drinks, and Ikey modestly gulped
down half a tumbler of whisky—whisky
which would have eaten the rivets out of
an ironclad—without winking.
The stranger sat down on the verandah
in a basket chair and refused the vile li
quor placed at his elbow by the obsequi
ous host. With hat tilted half over his
eyes and chair propped against the wall,
he languidly let the scorching sun play
over him and permeate his being.
One or two buggies were hitched to posts
in the front of the hotel. Millette’s goat
stolidly consumed the sleeve of a habi
tant’s coat as it hung down from
a buckboard. The intense heat
told visibly on the panting dogs
beneath the vehicles. Only Sal and
the stranger appeared to enjoy it. Lan
guid fowls, half buried in dust, scorned to
snap at suddenly rising grasshoppers.
Above, the blue sky; around, the fresh
sweet wind tempering the hot
sun; in the distance, recently clothed wil
lows, as the wind rustled among them dis
played their silvery surfaces. Between
the village and the mountains the Ot
tawa rippled onward, its transparent wa
ters dancing up to the light of the sun.
Next door to the hotel, Old Man Waters
steadily made up his garden for the sum
mer, whilst his pet blue jay indulged in
profane exercises as a squirrel danced up
and down the same branch. Two or three
thieving blackbirds waged war on a colony
of innocent robins by the waterside. But
dominating the landscape and making a
brilliant spot of color in it sat Logan’s Sal
wearing her long locks and singing “The
little old log cabin in the lane.”
The stranger languidly watched Sal for
half-an-hour. He did everything languid
ly, as if so fashionably attired a being
could not reasonably be expected to dis
play the energy of baser natures.
"The stage for Caledonian Springs goes
at two. I think you said?” he remarked
to Ikey.
That worthy nodded to a tail, rawboned
young fellow, clad in blue trousers, red
sash, and cotton shirt. On his head, he
wore a “cow breakfast,” that is, a large
hat of common straw, so called because
occasionally used as a substitute for fod
der when hay became scarce.
Ikey regarded the newcomer with ill
disguished scorn. "It's Hank Peters," he
said. “Hank Peters, come a bothering
Sal to take her to the ball to-morrow
night.”
“To-morrow night, eh ?” enquired the
stranger, without vouchsafing a second
glance at Hank, who was now engaged in
an angry colloquy with the somewhat wil
ful Sai.
“Yes; to-morrow night, in the Mechanics’
Institute.”
“Why Mechanics?” asked the stranger.
“I dunno,” said Ikey. "I’ve never seed
none; but old Logan ’lowed to have tone
about it. He reckoned to call it that. He
did think of ‘The Tower,’ but that ain’t
no tower, and so he had to gW-e in.”
The stranger complacently shifted hi?
chair a couple of inches. "Do I under
stand you to say that it is the custom in
these primitive parts for a man to take a
girl to a dance and engage to do so the
day beforehand.”
Ikey's utterance grew a little thick. “I
can't quite follow ail them dictionary
words, stranger, but that’s about the size
of it.”
The stranger lounged Into the bar. "Keep
my things. I’ll stay over to-morrow,” he
said listlessly, and returned to the veran
dah.
“ I'll go to the dance,"he said, resum
ing his seat. "Introduce me to that young
lady over the way?"
"Dussent do it,” said Ikey. “That Hank
Peters is the ugliest man in the place. He'd
wipe me out.”
“Oh, very well,” said the stranger, “I'll
do It myself.”
Ikey’s speech became thicker. “Dutish
hoshp’tal'ty," he said. "Shah—shah—
shan’t let you.”
The stranger thrust Ikey back into the
chair, poured out for that veteran soaker
some more whisky, shook himself, stifled a
slight yawn, and, slowly strolling across
the dusty road, lifted the latch of the little
gate.
“Gosh!” said Ikey, trying to follow. But
the whisky asserted itself, and chained
him to his chair.
Sal looked up with a smile at the hand
some young fellow, as he saluted her with
an easy bow. "Miss Logan, I presume?"
he said, nonchantly, and their e>;es met.
Logan's Sal had ever been famous for
the quickness with which she arrived at
conclusions. The somber fire of her blue
eyes disappeared; her lips parted in a smile
of delighted surprise, and she half rose,
striving to curb her riotous locks as they
wantoned around her. "Yes,” she said,
softly; that's my name.”
The stranger’s blue eyes laughed back
Into hors, although a scarcely perceptible
blush dyed his erstwhile brazen check. He
was saying to himself; “I go no further—
’tis kismet."
This encounter of eyes last half a
second, perhaps three-quarters. When
Sal lowered her long lashes, Hank Peters
scowled.
"My friend Mr. Marston.’’ airly explain
ed the stranger, “has expatiated so elo
quently on your many virtues that I re
quested the honor of an introduction. Un
fortunately, circumstances over which Mr.
Marston—and his legs—had no control,
prevented him from accompanying me,
across the road. He has been quenching
his thirst for some little time past—quench
ing it not wisely, but too well—and the—
sun has proved too much for him. I there
fore considered It my duty to explain his
apparently shameful neglect of you.”
Again the girl’s beautiful eyes were mo
mentarily lifted to his. Sweet surprise,
dimpled breaks of ufln and lips, with pink
blushes chasing each other over her white
throat, mailt themselves manifest at this
display of consummate assurance and du
plicity. Outwardly calm, he was gasping
to himself. “At last! at last 1 My ideal
(SAVANNAH, GA.. SUNDAY. JANUARY 17. 1897.
Claude—The dividing line between the sexes Is fast disappearing.
Maude—What line is that ?
Claude—The clothes line.
A Full House.
,-/■ *¥ '
AT THE MASQUERADE BALL.
Mephisto—l saw two kings here to-night.
Adonis—That's nothing, I saw three kings and two queens.
woman. By heaven, this Is living! Now,
I know what the poets mean when they
sing of love.”
And she. How handsome he is! Does
he see anything in me? Why have I this
old cotton frock on? And my hair too 1
What has Ikey said to him. Oh, my heart,
my heart!” But she only smiled again,
and looked inquiringly into his candid
eyes.
”1 did try to bring him over to present
me to you, but he Is so heavy, and 1
couldn’t wait, and so I came without him.
My name is Clinton—Harold Clinton—and
I'm doing Canada.”
Hank Interposed with a scowl. “Clear
out,” he said, significantly. “Clear out,
or ’’
Clinton turned round.“ Now that I have
introduced myself, Miss Logan, I’ve a re
quest to make.”
Peters suddenly pushed between them.
The glory died out of the sunlight for the
girl. She gave a little cry, as Clinton
thrust Hank away with such force that
he tell against the red maple and was half
stunned.
"May I have the pleasure of being your
escort to the bail to-morrow,” said Clin
ton, as lf he had known Sal all his life,
and was merely asking her for a dance.
"Take care!” cried the girl, suddenly.
"Take care. He has a knife!”
But she was too late. Hank's bowle
flashed deep into Clinton’s side, and he
staggered and fell.
Ikey, realizing the situation, rose to his
feet with drunken gravity, pulled out a re
volver, and tired. Hank Peter’s hat fell to
the ground with a bullet hole in It, but
that worthy dodged behind a buggy ancj
plunged Into the river with a yell of defi
ance.
Ikey gazed over the way with drunken
gravity : “Itsh a sholemn duty—return
hoshp'tal’ty,” he said. "I’ll go-go plug
him for sure,” and he staggered off after
Hank.
Tho girl busily staunched Clinton's
wound with a strip torn from her own
gown. He gratefully pressed her hand to
his lips.
"No, no. For God’s sake, no,” she Im
plored him In frenzied terror. "Keep still.
Keep still. You'll bleed to death.
But he smiled Into her face, raised him
self with a convulsive effort, pressed his
lips to hers, and fell back In a dead faint.
With deft lingers, the girl made a rough
compress, and bound up the wound. The
glory of his kiss lit up her beautiful eyes
ami shone through her tears. And all the
time she was saying to herself, "My dar
ling, my darling, you shan’t die. I’ll give
my life for yours. You mustn't die.”
She dabbled cool watbr over hts sunny hair
—rested his head on her bosom—laid him
gently down again. "He’s mine,” she sold
with dry lips. “Mine, mine, mine! He
shan't die.”
"Of course not,” said Dr. Jimpson, as he
drove opportunely up In his buggy and
jumped hastily out. ”1' heard the firing
way down yonder. Here. Labelle, take his
heels. That’s it. Gently. Gently. Mind i
the door. Ground floor's best. You wo
men clear out. Cut away his clothes, La
belle. Bring basin and sponge. That’s it.
Be—yew—ti—f ul 1”
Clinton opened hiß eyes. In the room
stood an angel, whose golden, glowing
wings wrapped her round with lambent
fire. But great tears fell from her eyes,
and rolled amid the golden flames without
quenching their light. He tried to lift his
arms towards the Shining One, but a keen
pain darted through the side, the pangs of
hell got hold of him, and all was blank.
CHAPTER 11.
Four Corners’ society felt that righteous
retribution had overtaken the too attract
ive Miss Logan. And there would proba
bly be a funeral on old man Logan's hands
in addition. Public opinion considered
that Mr. Peters had acted with commend
able promptitude in thus resenting the at
tentions of a mere gitranger to the belle of
Four Corners. "While it is to be regret
ted,” said the Four Corners News—.
"While It is to be regretted that our es
teemed fellow-citizen did not shoot his op
ponent in fair fight, it must be remember
ed that a bowle, though less stylish, is of
ten more effective than a six-shooter.
Should the stranger who thus succumbed
to the charms of one of the many sirens
In our midst, recover, he will of coursd
have ample opportunity of eliminating Mr.
Peters from the range of practical
politics. Indeed, we are informed by Mr.
Peters’ many friends and admirers that he
has arranged for one or two other similar
little matters to stand over until Mr.
Harold Clinton Is sufficiently recovered to
try his skill with the six-shooter.
"It Is difficult to repress our admiration
at Mr. Peters’ honorable, manly, and
straightforward conduct—conduct which,
in our opinion, has amply wiped out ar.y
little appearance of prematureness on his
part when the row began. We would also
request such of our fellow-citizens who
have a spare afternoon on their hands, to
tar and feather that effete old bush
whacker Ikey Marston, whoso puerile
shot-gun we have so often escaped. Mr.
Marston, Indeed, called on us yesterday
with that second-hand collection of old
Iron which he Imagines to be a gun, and,
because we refused to make any altera
tion In our previous report of this affair,
wantonly ‘pled’ three ’forms,’ afterwards
detaining us up a neighboring loft until
the sheriff led him away for a few days'
geological s.-eluslon In Ho county guol.
As editor we are willing to fight to tho
death, but as Reeve of the council, It Is
our duty not to run any risk. We trust
that a tar and torchlight procession will
greet Mr. Marston with becoming enthusi
asm on his emergence from gaol. If not,
we shall feel It our duty, as Reeve, to
double his taxes. Bis dat qul clto dat'
(Larin) ; and we shall give him double as
sessments with both hands.”
But when it leaked out that the stran
ger had been unarmed, Mr. Peters admir
ers dropped off. It was felt that he had
been hasty. An unknown friend of Miss
Logan’s gave shape to the popular feeling
by leaving eleemosynary Jellies on the
doorstep, with a statement in somewhat
crude spelling that they had been pro
cured from Ottawa. The jellies, however,
were better than the spelling, and when
the fever had abated a little Clinton was
nursed back to life and fed upon them.
Directly he was well enough to recognize
her, Sal perversely kept out of his way.
Then it was at a critical period of his ill
ness that Clinton made the acquaintance
of old man Logan, a gentleman of few
words and with a pronounced love for to
bacco in its coarsest forms. Indeed, after
many nights of delirium and pain, Clinton
fancied that he must be dreaming still, as
his eyes fell upon the quaint figure of old
man Logan in a rocking-chair at the bed
side—a figure resembling a seer of "eldest
eld" with long white hair, streaked here
and there with dirty red.
“Where am I?” asked Clinton, faintly,
trying to recall Sal’s beautiful face and
form.
Old man Logan had been told not to ex
cite the patient. ”1 dlsremomber,” he
said, in a non-committal sort of way.
“You ain’t in your own baronial halls so
to speak, for sure; and you ain’t here,
’cause yesterday you was a-faneyin’ your
self a 10-co-mo-tlve." He pronounced
each syllable with grave deliberation. "A
10-co-mo-tlve In Afrikey, a 10-co-motlng
after elephants ami suchlike foolishness.
Sal says ”
"Sal! Sal! Then it wasn't a dream?”
"If you could Jest look at that hole Hank
Peters carved in yer,” said old man Lo
gan, thoughtfully slicing some tobacco off
his plug, “you'd know more about it. You
go to sleep, sonny, and renew yer youth,
like the seagull and—and other birds,”
"But where Is Miss Logan." feverishly
enquired Clinton. “I— l want to thank
her.”
"Miss Morgan." said old man, welding
his bits of tobacco Into one sooth
ing homogeneous mass, preparatory to
transferring It to the Inside of his left
cheek : "Miss Logan Is at this ’ere mo
ment up to Cameron’s barn, a-revellln’."
"Oh,” said Clinton, his head falling back.
“Of course. I ought to have known.
What does she care!”
"She 'lowed to come home early,” said
Old Man, alarmed at the effect of his
words, but persisting In his statement.
"Reports havin' been circulated in tnts
’ere neighborhood 'bout that cuss Hank
Peters. Sal's gone to the dance to show
she don't care two-pence what people says
about her.”
But Clinton’s eyes suddenly closed; he
seemed asleep, and Old Man smiled ap
proval at the effect of his diplomacy,
Sal came softly Into the room before his
smile had faded away. "He's looking very
pale, father,” she said. "You—you haven't
been saying anything to him ?"
Clinton (whose head was struggling In
very de<a> waters, where breakers were
buffeting and daßhlng over him) heard her
voice. She had returned from the dance
then, this girl who could dance whilst he
lay dying. Oh, she was a heartless co
quette, not the angel of his dreams. He
would haste to recover, shake the dust of
th's primeval country off his feet, never
to see It again. And yet she was so beau
ti'ul, so queenly, with such tender eyes,
so softly bright, so sweetly pure and proud.
He must see her once more.
The girl spoke sharply to the old man
“He doesn't look natural, father. What
did you tell him?"
Old Man chuckled. ”1 wasn't goln’ to
let on, Sul, as you’d taken a fancy to him,
so I ’lowed you’d gone to Cameron’s barn;
and he Just give a pleased little groan and
went off like a lamb.”
The girl dropped on her knees by the
bedside with a despairing moan, for she
could see that a sudden change for the
worse had taken place in Clinton's condi
tion, but Old Man—he had the pleasing
self-suftlclency and obtuseness of an os
trich—went out on the verandah looking
as if he had come triumphantly through a
trying ordeal.
iSal burled her face in the bedclothes,
striving to restrain a sob as the lap-lap
ping of the water against the wooden piers
below sounded pleasantly In Clinton’s ears,
and he once more swam faintly up to the
surface of life. A lamp burned dimly on
a fable the other side of the room; the rest
of it was in shadow. At the foot of the
bed a wandering ray of light caught Sal's
wonderful hair. She was all in white
from head to foot, and her cheeks were
white also. Constant w'atching had taken
away her beautiful color. In the spare
rays of moonlight which shone down on
her, touching her hair with tender kisses,
she looked the creature of another world.
Sal’s sobs ceased. She was praying;
“O God—Heavenly Father—look down upon
ua. Spare him. Give him back to me.
Save and redeem him. He’s all I have.
There’s nothing else in the world for me.
Nothing, nothing, nothing. Thou know
est how I’ve watched over hlmi—wearied
Heaven with prayers. Don’t let htm die.
Wo give ourselves to Thee, and walk in
Thy ways. O God, don’t crush what Thou
hast made. Spare us to live In Thy sweet
world. All Thy creatures weep for us,
all the voices of the night cry aloud to
Thee; all the waters of the world wail to
Thee for us. Thy miserable children. Spare
us, good Lord. Spare us, for the sake
of "
A faint voice called to her, and she lifted
her sorrow-stricken head. “Dearest,”
it said weakly, as if coming from afar oft.
’[pearest, come nearer. I—l cannot eee
you.”
She crept nearer and moistened his lips.
Her heart was filled with a great grief.
He spoke in a faint whisper. “I’m going
soon. Only I—l wanted to tell you I love
you. dear. I—X love you.”
"Hush!" she said, choking back her sobs.
“I have prayed to God, and He will hear
my prayer. You shall not die.”
He wandered a little. "Ah. yes, I must
die. 1 must. There’s no life left in me.
I—l can’t remember. I saw you, wor
shipped you; and then, end then—the knife
and darkness. There’s no life. No life."
His eyes closed, and he seemed to be
■peaking to someone.
“Love her, for—for my sake. You’ll see
her, some day. The glory on her brow—
the lovellght In her eyes. Love her.
Love hsn~”
For a little space he was silent, and the
waters of death surged up around and
about him. His eyes opened again as if
he were slipping away from the world and
all he loved into unfathomable darkness
of the unknown. With wild terror in. her
eyes the girl bent over him and pressed
her young lips to his, having to call back
his departing soul from the chill kingdom
of dreams and shadows, as If the vigorous
tides of life within her veins could be
transferred to his. And his fleeting spirit
on the threshold of Eternal Life, paused,
poised itself for flight, then feared to pass
the sweet young Ups which barred its part
ing, and remained.
Ha slept, and death, hovering on the
threshold, dared not untwine her fond pro
tecting arms, but spread his mighty wings
and fled away.
Blow softly, winds of Heaven! Worship,
all ye voices of the night! Stars rain
down your golden smiles! And oh! ye
wistful tides, waiting to hear a soul upon
your breast unto the distant sea, linger no
more, but burdenless flow forward through
the night, for on the lintel love’s own sea!
is set, and death and sorrow may not en
ter there.
• •••••••
After his protracted dwelling on the
threshold of death, Clinton rapidly recov
ered. Sal nursed, and petted, and bullied
him in a somewhat defiant manner, only
at times showing the strong feeling which
had dragged him back into the world.
"Dr. Jlmpson’s explanation of the matter
was very prosaic. ‘You’d Jest run down
like a clock,” he said; "and Sal, she can’t
let things alone—l never knowed a woman
yet what could—comes and gives you a
shove and sets you goln’ again. I didn’t
do nuthln’ ’cept tell our undertaker to git
ahead of the Caledonia Springs man,
feelln’ as he’d orter have first chance. I
ain’t so sure, mind you. It’s best for Sal
you have got well. Your high-toned
Brlthlshers are Jest a little obltverous
sometimes. Maybe your father’s a lord?”
“Shoddy,” said Clinton briefly. "Im
pure, adulterated shoddy. When I get
well lf you dare to make such an imputa
tion on my honor I’ll—l’ll choke you with
your own pill boxes. Miss Logan has
promised to be my wife.”
’’Shake,” said the doctor, cordially ex
tending an elephantine paw. “Shake.
Yer pa may be shoddy, but you ain’t. No,
sir ”
After the doctor had gone out, Clinton
lay still on his couch waiting for the moon
to rise. Sal was promenading the wharf
with her sire, In order to get a little fresh
air after nursing Clinton all day. He felt
vaguely that he missed her; her absence
showed how his whole being was wrapped
up In her; the air did not seem so sweet
wtien she was away. When she was near
htm his vitality Increased; when she was
absent he felt weaker than ever. Then he
grew hungry and began to eat the delicious
Jelly at his ellxjw. Where the Jelly came
from no one knew, Clinton had at one
time suspected Ikey Marston of present
ing It, but that hardened old soaker pro
tested with such pathetic scorn “them
slops ain't In my line, Mister,” that Clin
ton was again puzzled.
He put down the Jelly spoon with an air
of relief, "Dtp Into it hearty, stranger,"
said a voice sheepishly, and a huge shock
head of hair thrust Itself Into the room
and disappeared again.
Clinton thought he wai dreaming.
Suddenly the head reappeared. It was
followed by the slouching form of Hank
Peters. "Ketch hold, stranger,” he said,
hurriedly. "It’s banoners; them soapy
little ynller things that doesn't want no
chewin’.”
Clinton stretched out hla hand In all
friendliness. "Come In, Mr. Peters, and
thank you," he said. "Weren't you Just a
little bit too previous? I owe you an
apology for slamming you Up against that
tree."
“I dussen’t,” said Peters, In the same
strained, husky whisper. “You’ve got the
gal, and we'll call It square. That old
PAGES 17 TO 20.
fool, Ikey Marston's, ’lowd for to wipe me
out, all on account of this yer little argey
ment; an’ I ain't got no weppings left, lie
has one," the redoubtable Mr. Peters shiv
ered.
"Yes?"
"It came over In the Mayflower, and
worked down in Canady,” said Mr. Peters,
presumably alluding to Ikey’s weapon.
"It's got a nozzle like a bell, and he fills
It up to busting with cut slugs. When, it
does go off they spreads for miles,” and
again he shivered apprehensively.
“Oh, but that's all right; I’ll talk to
Ikey," said Clinton kindly. ”1 was quite
as much to blame as you were. In fact,
I began It.”
"It’s that red hair of tier's,” said Mr.
Paters, lamely. “It sorter blinds a man.
and’ ho’s carvin’ folks up afore he knows
any thing about It.”
"Dutish of hosp’tal'ty,” said a thick
voice on the threshold, and Ikey appeared
solemnly swaying to and fro, but cover
ing Mr. llank Peters with the heirloom
that worthy had so feelingly described.
Mr. Hank Peters slowly backed Into a
corner.
"ltansh up,” Insisted Ikey with drunken
gravity.
Hank Peters hurriedly did as requested.
“And his countenance ail over,
Suddenly like death did prove."
"Dutish of hosp'tal’ty,” again insisted
Ikey, "musht be obsherved. Sho they wilt
—in five minutes;” and he brought the
muzzle of his old gun in convenient prox
imity to Mr. Peters speaking oountenance.
“Ikey, you old Idiot, drop that thing at
once," commanded Clinton.
But Ikey deigned no other reply than hla
cur tomary formula. It was evident that
he meant mischief. Clinton could not He
there and see a man murdered before his
eyes. He raved and stormed and Im
plored Ikey to relent, but in vain. “Dut
tsh hoßpUal'ty. Hesh goln’ under,” was
all that could be extracted from Mr. Mar
ston. it whs exceedingly probable if ha
carried out that threat that a good deal
of Iron would be extracted from Hank Pe
ters in the shape of old nails, keys, and
other choice fragments.
Peters was touched by Clinton's anxiety
on his behalf. ”1 ain't goln’ to beg nuthin
from an old fool like that” he said scorn
fully "but I did let on to die like a man,
an’ not be scattered round In bits, by this
yer dynermite cartridge.”
At this insult to his beloved weapon,
Ikey laid his finger on the trigger. Sud
denly, a white hand clutched the barrel
and threw It up; there was a roar as of an
earthquake, and Ikey rolled on the floor,
kicking, gasping, but completely sobered
by the shock.
Sal had noiselessly entered and grasped
the situation—and the gun barrel—at the
critical moment. Fortunately for her, the
recoil of Ikey’s primitive weapon had been
directed against his own person; that por
tion of the human form which a cele
brated humorist has somewhat euphemis
tically designated "the lower chest.”
When the smoke cleared away It was
found that Mr. Hank Peters had done
likewise. The celling was riddled with
Jagged holes.
Old Man Logan arrived on the scene
with an air of placid annoyance. “When
yoii wants to blow the roof off,” he ob
served severely, . “ ’praps you'll make it
convenient to braze away at your own,
Ikey. It’s sorter keerless if there’s any
body upstairs. I'll have to pick most of
that scrap iron out of my bed. It’s tedi
ous, Don’t you do It agin.”
ikey rose to his knees, and looked crest
falicnly round. Then his eyes fell on ths
ceiling. "Thar ain’t another like her in
the hull of Canady," he said, affectionate
ly patting the brown barrel of his favor
ite. “I don’t know which end of her’s the
wust. That thar Hank Peters, would ha’
been spread all over the room by this time
If he'd stayed like a man.”
“Maybe you’ll git up and have some sup
per,” suggested Old Man, as if the matter
did not admit of further discussion.
Ikey shook his head slowly made for the
door. "I don’t allow for to have much
appetite this week,” he said mournfully.
“When she kicks she sorter knocks the
stuffin' outen one.” and he melted away
Into the moonlight.
Sal came to the couch to calm her ex
citable patient. “What would you like for
supper?” she asked, with shy happiness.
Clinton drew Sal’s face to his and shook
down her beautiful hair until it rippled
and flowed and flamed around him. Old
Man discreetly looked the other way.
“Dearest,”he said, tenderly, "I think I
could eat a wolf.”
"In course," said Old Man, blowing his
nose violently; “in course, says you, you
could eat a wolf. I’ll go an’ look for
one," and he went out, leaving the lovers
together.
(The End.)
PAINTING Iti;<’ ioi*TH>\ GOWNS.
One Writer Is Mneh Opposed to the
Innovation.
From Bt. James Budget
I do not often raise my voice about fem
inine fashions, but I think it right to warn
my lady friends against a suggestion that
silk, satin and velvet dresses can be im
proved and made works of art by painting
flowers and other decorations upon them.
I am told that herein the art of painting
has ”anew feature, and an eminently use
ful one before It."
One has to use oil paint for this proposed
field or art, and In that there lurks a hor
rible danger. Oil paint Is sometimes very
obstinate in drying, afid It is sometimes
years before it loses its peculiar odor. I
have seen a satin dress, a'.l beautifully
hand-painted for a fancy ball. In appear
ance it was nasty, but this was not all.
It had been shut up in a cardboard box
for some days, and unthinkingly I drew
the cover off all too quickly. I regretted
the hastiness of my action.
And then, any one who has had an op
portunity of seeing the sickly daffodils on
drainpipes and velvet mantleboards. and
the generally bilious productions of our
youngkr ladles, will regret this expansion
of the “field of art” almost as much as I.
M<( ullnuh’s New Word.
From the St. Louis Globe-Democrat.
The word "gabfeit,” now met with so
frequently In newspaper columns, was in
vented by the late Joseph B. McCullagh,
and first used In a Globe-Democrat para
graph early last year. It was rapidly
adopted throughout the county. A study
of the words coined by Mr. McCullagh
and now a part of the English languogo
wherever it is used would show that ho
possessed the exceedingly rare faculty of
making anew word that would last. A
thousand literary men have failed in this
feat where one has succeeded.
Ills Honor Wus Loaded.
From the Wadley (Ga.) Banner.)
Ths mayor got full an a goat last night.
\\ hen ho reached homo he fined his wife
*l9 for snoring In the presence of tho
court; then he put his clothes to bed ard
hung himself across a chair. He says
he feels bad (not badly) this morning.