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THE PEACE THAT CAME TO HIM. Continued from Page 9. where his precious money was deposited. He did not dare use his own name yet, and if he had drawn a check it would have been refused, lor "Jack Curtis" had not been heard of since that night two years beiore in Victoria. His ticket took him to a little town up in the mountains. Then he got on a freight tram, out. was discovered and put off in tlie rain and sleet. The second time late favored him. Un seen in the darkness, he crept into an empty car and lay down on the bare boards in his frozen clothes. There he fell asleep. When he awake it was morning, and he was nearing his destination. At the first slacking of the train he dropped down from the car and, by unfrequented streets, entered the town. It seemed an inter minable waiting for the bank to open, but at last he had the precious dollars. As he turned to pass out, a man stood in the broad entrance-way, note-book-in hand. Jack's stained and muddy garments brushed him as he passed. He thought he had seen that shrewd face before, and suddenly the corridor of the jail came back to him. The reporter, however, had not noticed the shabby, hurrying figure. Curtis did not go down to the "Emporium Furnishing House;" two years at McNeil's Island makes a man diffident, even if he has honestly paid his debt to society; besides, he. knew a" clerk at the "Emporium." So he went down to a small out-of-the-way store. When he came out, with a great bundle and a new valise, he cast a quick glance up and down the street; the thought of that reporter haunted him. Two policemen, standing on the corner saw him and saw the glance. One of them said: "Hobo; saw him jump off the train this morning. Old Isaac's asleep, I guess." And he moved steadily up toward Jack. Just then a stout man,- driving a big, plung ing horse to a sulky, reined the horse up fairly on the sidewalk and shouted: "Hello, there, Jack Curtis! Don't you know your old friends? Knew you the moment 1 saw you come down the steps of the bank. The deuce, man, but you look tough!" " "You would too," responded Jack, grasping the great hand stretched out to him, "if you had been prospecting up in the mountains." Both the policemen moved away, while Jack went off in a rage with the colonel, quite un conscious of what he owed him. Finally the colonel left him, and Jack slipped up to his room. When he came down, valise in hand, it was dark and nearly train time; but the night clerk had recognized him and followed him out from the empty office to see him off. Just then a man came down the hall lighting a cigar. "Hello! here's Kyle, of the Mundane Sphere. Going East, Kyle?" "No; just down to the train to meet a friend." "That so? Mr. Curtis, here, is just going down, too." And in an instant Jack found himself walk ing down the street with the man who had interviewed him two years before. But his spirits rose with every step. The reporter would soon be left, and he was safe in the darkness. He kept well away from the lighted ticket-room, and in a moment the train bore down upon them with a long shriek. The deep-toned calls of the trainmen, the ringing of the bell in the darkness, was t__ axe aid ___.(? RANCH AND RANGE. a man just out of prison. As the train drew away from the depot, he saw the reporter standing in the flaring light, shaking his friend's hand. Jack paused on the swaying platform; something seemed to snap in his brain, lie appeared to be choking. He grasped at his collar, as for air, and then he leaned forward and shook his clenched list at the blurred form under the lights—cursing him with a bitterness which appalled him when he came to his senses. A rush of other feelings came over him, however, and he took off his hat and let the cool night wind sweep over his face as the train rushed and swayed on and on, farther and farther from the little city to the broad rolling prairie which stretched miles and miles away beneath God's stars. Oh, it was good to be free. He took in great draughts of air. The two terrible years that were past, filled with wrong and disgrace, were blotted out ami atoned for; before him was his mother's face, and home; and there in the darkness he prayed. Just at dusk, when the lamps were being lighted and the early winter fires were leaping and shining out a welcome, Jack Curtis hur ried up the familiar streets of the town where he was born. 11 11 t There was one gable, among all that were outlined against the winter sunset, which his eyes sought eagerly. He turned the corner with a great bound like a boy; his heart beat fast, expecting to see his mother's face at the window, just as she had greeted his home coming ever since childhood. Suddenly he stopped and clung to the brown tence, be wildered. This was a strange house that he saw, silent and empty. The lilacs beat against the windows mournfully; piles of dry leaves scurried about the porch floor. He had never seen this house before. Every line of the old home seemed to repudiate the man standing there in the darkness. His mother had moved away, he told himself, and ho went up to the neighboring house to inquire. A stranger came to the door. "The Mrs. Curtis, who used to live next door?" Jack questioned. "She died two years ago," was the reply. "They found her dead at the window waiting for her son, whom she was expecting home. But he's never been heard from." The woman kept on volubly, peering at him him curiously. Curtis turned abruptly away. He went past the old house —out of sight of it forever, with out one glance; but in his heart he felt just how the light had shone over the lawn on other nights, and how, in the soft-curtained window, there had been a sweet, gentle face looking out, watching for him. "Dead? His mother dead?" His brain could not grasp it. All the past seemed suddenly blotted out, all tho future a blank; there could be no life without her. Death had never touched his life before, and the awful immutability of it numbed him. Mechanically he went up to the little ceme tery, where he had played when a child, while his mother tended the flowers on his father's grave. "Only to see her for one moment, only to speak to her one word," was the cry of his soul. Ho lay there in the dead grass until late in the night, when, finally, exhaustion brought him quiet. (To bo continued.) A HOT TOWN. The current issue of the Stikeen River Jour nal, published at Fort Wrangell, is very inter esting. its news columns show how unique is the condition of things up there. Here are a few short items: From four to five new houses daily in Wrangel is the order. T. J. Lane this week brought the first wheeled vehicle to town. It is a hand cart. A ten-acre addition to the north end of town was surveyed and subdivided into lots 25x100 feet this week. W. Foster on Wednesday put up notice of location on mining claim on an alleged quartz ledge on Front street. Six dead dogs were counted the other day lying near an up-town bunk house. The sani tary committee should have them removed. <.ii<e —Owing to the high price of feed, milk will be 12 1-2 cents per quart to regular customers and 15 cents to others during the months of March and April.Wrangel Dairy Company. Here's a prosperity item for you: W. H. Vessey, a well known sheep owner of the Yakima valley, finished shearing 1,900 weth ers on Thursday of last week, and the same day closed a bargain with Coffin Bros, for the wool at 12 cents. This is away up in the air as compared with prices that have been ruling for several years. If this price continues through the season, the sheep men will enjoy exceedingly prosperous times. A. W. Stanton, a Montana buyer, bought last week at Pendleton, to be delivered at Heppner after shearing, 1,600 yearlings, 3,500 breeding ewes, and 300 lambs. The ewes brought $2.25 per head, and the lambs $1.25. The seller was R. F. Munroe, an extensive sheep grower of Condon, Gilliam county. This is the largest sale so far reported in Eastern Oregon this season. Mr. , Stanton is stil in the market, as he wants a few more sheep. He has also made a purchase from a Umatilla county sheep man, John Campbell, who sold him 1,600 head of breeding ewes on a basis of $2.50 for the ewes and $1.25 for the undropped lambs. COFFIN BROS. The new wholesale Klondike and Farmers outfitting store. Hardware, Shoes and Hats, Groceries, Clothing Camp supplies. Qoods retailed at wholesale prices 210 Occidental avenue, • ■ Seattle, Wash. DUNGENESS CEpIY GARDENS J-U-Ui/ Fresh Crop Garden Seed for 1898. Choice Mangel and Carrot Seed for Dairymen and Stockmen. It will pay you to grow some GOLDEN TANKARD MANGELS for the dairy cows —the richest mangel grown. Send for 1898 Seed Catalogue. A. Lingham, ■ • Dungeness, Wash. , .—— '—• ...Rubber Stamps and Stencils... OF EVERY DESCRIPTION Made to order and warranted to please. First-class work and Eastern prices. Send for Descriptive Price List to manufacturer H. E. SHARP, SEATTLE, WASH. 414 Yesler Way.