Newspaper Page Text
back here. We did not sin!" He might
have shouted at the sea or the wind. The minister continued : "This is the judgement!" he cried. "Daniel Bright! You are no longer a member of this congregation. No man may give you employment. No man may give you shelter or food. You are expelled from the town of Bristol. It is forbidden to travel on the Lord's Day. But if you are found here after sundown to-morrow, it will cost you dear." "Who forbids me to travel on the Lord's Day?" Daniel's shout was the loudest sound ever heard in the church. "You have not cut the legs from my body. I skull go." He stepped out into the aisle. "Mary." he called proudly. "Mary, my betrothed!" The girl stood up and held out her artm across the church. "Mary," he cried. "I shall come back. And I shall not come alone." He stood for a moment. Then he went out the door of the church. Outside, the sun stood high, but the wind blew savagely cold from the sea. A single desire burned in Daniel's heart — to get away from Bristol. Somewhere in the world were men who'd help him right his wrong. He cared not a particle who they might be — Frenchmen — Papists — Rovers even He'd find them. Then he'd come back for Mary Pearson. His resentment drove all caution from his mind. Forgetting the wind swept miles to Stockton, he struck off along the sea-road. The drifts were waist high, and from their curved crests the wind blew stinging lashes of sand-like snow. But he struggled on. He'd not turn back to Bristol. He'd rather die of cold. Or starve. Anything. At last he heard the sea. the growl of the great Atlantic rollers smashing on the beach. He looked up at the sky. He faltered and stopped in dismay! Dead to windward, high in the air, stood a pearl grey cloud, which had not been there when he left the church. Even while he watched, the low hor izon melted into dimness and dis » appeared The wind blew stronger — straight from the north. Gathering every ounce of strength, he advanced into the heart of the blizzard, toward the only building near the harbor — a fisherman's empty cabin. He had a flint and steel in his pocket. Perhaps he could start a fire and live until the • · storm was over. * It's a dreamless, quiet sleep — the sleep of cold. The clock in the brain does not tick, and time flies by on silent owl-like wings. Daniel woke slowly, by dim stages. Then he opened his eyes. A warm, yellow glow came through them at first. Kind angelic faces floated above him. Soft voices murmured. He felt among friends. His lips moved, and he told about Mary Pearson and the judgement in the church. Then a voice spoke from a great distance. "Daniel," it said. "Your wrong shall be righted." He closed his eyes in peace. When he woke again, his limbs were burning like fire. Pain shot in waves through his body from head to toe. Hie boots were off, and his feet were red as butcher meat. His face felt as if hot irons were against the cheeks. He sat up bewildered. A yellow fire roared on the hearth. And around it stood a dozen wild-looking men. They were dressed in sea-boots, knitted cap*, short coats buttoned with silver coins. One was a negro black as soot. One wore golden ear-rings and a gol den chain around his neck. The room was full of babble and shout. Strange tongues which Daniel had never heard before, the stench of greasy clothes, the reek of hot rum. His mind cleared. He knew what these men were, and a shudder shook him like an aspen leaf. Rovers! The Curse of the New World! A peril by day and a terror by night! For what great sin had he come to fall into their hands? Then back to his mind crept a mem ory of that voice which had promised to right his wrong. Now he knew. These Rovers were the instruments of the Lord. Cruel they might be. God· less, sinful, and savage! But the Lord can use even a Rover for His purpose. The room was still. All the Rovers had turned to stare. A tall man with pistols in his belt came across and looked down. He was darkly hand some in a rough-cut way. A white scar twisted across his cheek. "How do you feel?" he asked. Daniel tried his legs and arms. "Pretty well. I reckon nothing's frozen." "You'd be dead," said the Rover, "if I hadn't put into this harbor and come ashore." A grim smile curled his lips. "So?" he said. "You don't like the men of Bristol?" Daniel's hatred flared up — hot as when he'd left the church. "No," he said bitterly. "They r»st me out." "You told us all about it," said the Rover, grinning down sardonically. "The girl you skipped off with. How they caught you in Boston. How you were coming back and take her away. Well, here we are. Here's your help. Guide us to Bristol tonight. You can have the wench if we catch her. My ship needs victuals and powder." "I'll take you to Bristol," Daniel said. "I know where they keep their arms." "That's the talk," said the RovEr. "We'll start now. It's long after mid night." Suddenly his face twisted into a snarl. "And no tricks!" he cried. He snatched a pistol from his belt and pressed it into Daniel's stomach. "One false step —" "No need of that, Captain. I've no friends in Bristol." "Put on your boots then," said the Captain. "We start now." Mechanically Daniel laced his boots. A terrible doubt was growing in his mind. But he had no time to think. As soon as his boots were tied, the captain opened the door. The wind had died. No snow was falling, and a dim, pale light came from the moon above the clouds. Daniel pointed out the almost invis ible road to Bristol, and the grim army began its struggle with the drifts. Daniel marched in the midst of tue Rovers, his conscience gnawing like a rat in his breast. He shuddered. What creatures marched by his side! They muttered to each other — obscene, hideous words. Their cutlasses clashed as they walked, and they panted short and hard like beasts of prey. Yet these were the instruments of the Lord, sent to right his wrong. Here was re venge. But Daniel saw the orange glare of burning farmhouses, heard the screams of women, the clash of ai ms, the roar of muskets. ( Continued on page 13 ) Chimney Pot Continued from page six before a knave in a tavern. I'll have no more of it. Better go out with dig nity from this travesty of lite than to struggle on, sinking lower and lower . . Suddenly he contemplated the idea of committing suicide. That gave him immense pleasure. He rehearsed in his mind the shock caused to his rela tives by his violent death. In a sort of morbid ecstasy, he did not notice the waiter's hurried return, until Louis was at the table, saying fawningly: "I hope ye'll pardon me, Colonel. I had an urgent telephone call to make. Now will ye please carry on? I'm dyin' to hear the rest of the story." The stern ecstasy of projected sui cide changed to hopeless panic. The colonel rose and said in a trembling voice : "Don't apologize. I shan't trouble this house again with my —" "For heaven's sake, sir," cried I.ouis in fright, "don't go!" "If the ole devil goes like that," he thought, "it will spoil my luck." "Won't ye sit down, sir," he im plored, "an' finish yer drink? Do me the honor of havin' this one on me." The colonel sat down. "I must have been mistaken." he said to himself. "He is genuinely apologetic." He said to the waiter. "I have been very ill for the past three months." "Aw! Were ye in hospital?" "Not in hospital." said the colonel. "As I could not afford a private ward, I refused to accept public charity in spite of my condition after I was struck down." "By the chimney pot?" "Quite. I wired my Aunt Catherine. If one must —" Louis did not hear a word of the colonel's story. He mopped his per spiring brow with his handkerchiefs Finally he glanced at the clock. It was twenty-five minutes to five. "If they started on time." he thought, "it's all over now, bar the shoutin' o' the winners." He picked up the colonel's empty glass, said, "Have another, sir. I won't be a second," and dashed out. In a few moments he was talking to his book-maker. "What won the four thirty?" "Chimnty Pol." "What? Say that again." "Chimnty Pol won it. Call It a Day, second. Caractacus, third. Louis shook from head to foot. "What price?" "Starting price was eight to one." "Are ye sure?" "To hell! What d'ye think 1 am?" "Thanks." Louis, with a trembling hand, hung up the receiver. He rushed into the smoke-room and cried out to the astonished colonel : "By the hammers of hell! It won. Eighty pounds to ten." "What's that?" said the colonel. "Chimney Pot!" He rushed over and seized the colonel's hand. "God btess yer accident!" The colonel got furious. "What do you mean? Are you mak ing fun of my misfortune?" "It's not misfortune," said Louis. "I might never have backed it only for your accident. Even if I had, I'd have only put a quid or two on it. But when ye said 'chimney pot,' I thought it was a tip straight from the horse's mouth. That shows ye, sir, that it's an ill wind.. . "You scoundrel!" cried the colonel. "You use my misery to — to —" He raised his stick. "Wait a minute! Fair is fair, sir." The colonel's eyes dilated as he saw the waiter rummage in his tail coat and pull out a wallet. "I'll take advantage of no man," Louis said. "Least of all, of a gentle man like yoursel'. Here, sir. There's ten and there'll be another ten when I get paid. One good turn deserves another. So! God bless the chimney pot that fell on ye, sir an' begob, ye're now goin' to do me the honor o' splittin' a bottle o' champagne with me. Say ye will an' the blessing o' God on ye." The colonel took the notes. With a dignified gesture, he stuffed them in his breast pocket, coughed and said solemnly : "I shan't stand on ceremony." Why J (ι amble with LOVELINESS Ο L Don't trust to chance. There's a surt way to "The Skin You Low to Touch"! . . . Read the proof f No girl would willingly risk her beauty on the turn of a wheel. Yet thousands do hazard their complexions on unproved beauty aids. To clear away the fog of doubt surrounding skin care, the fore most dermatologists of 9 nations conducted a clinical test of the leading beauty preparations— Woodbury's Facial Soap and 150 others. 968 women of all ages and types of skin were selected as sub jects. Each treated one side of her face, daily—for 30 days—with Woodbury's Facial Soap . . . the other side with any other prepara tion of -her.-choice. Other soaps, creams, lotions pro duced no noticeable improvement. In 79% of all cases Woodbury's brought new beauty to the com plexion . .. correcting dry and oily skin...blackheads and coarse pores. Woodbury's, from the formula of a famous skin specialist, is not a mere soap. . . but a scientific beauty treatment containing rare and costly oils and unguents. For nearly half a century, Wood bury's Facial Soap sold at 25c or more. Now... so that new millions may afford it ... it is offered at the sensational price of 10c — in the identical formula, quality and quantity. Why gamble with loveliness, when Woodbury's, in the new 10c cake, will give you the smooth, clear, radiant skin that is your At drug, de partment stores . .. and your grocer's. • · · Look for the bud and H oo «Il genuloc Woodbury product· «END FOB Τ» John Η. Woodbury, Inc., 11)1 (Ια Canada) John Ή. Woodbury, Enclosed find 10c. Scad me containing a guest six cake Cold and Facial Creams, and one of each of the six shades.