The river press. [volume], November 03, 1886, Image 3

About The river press. [volume] (Fort Benton, Mont.) 1880-current

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]gNGAGED IN HASTE,
By MISS M. E. BRADDON.
CHAPTER VII.
"AS FROM A DREAM OF MURDER."
Grace's shrieks rang through the silent
se. The wife flung herself on the
ground by her husband's side, voiceless,
r a dumb agony, clinging to the pro
strate form, kissing the pallid face, im
ploring for a word, a look.
He was loosely dressed in trousers, and
velvet dressing-gown, dressed like a man
who had risen hastily at a strange souind,
prepared to meet a midnight intruder.
,gis wife opened his dressing-gown and
laid her ear against his breast. Yes, the
heart was beating still-feebly, as it
seemed to her, a beat which might
dwindle into silence at any moment. a
thread of life that might snap while she
listened.
Servants came, sleepy, confused, all
talking at once. Then, Dora Darnel, very
delicate and dainty in a flowing white
garment with pale pink ribbons; then the
colonel, in an old red velvet dressing
gown, which made him look like a
wizard.
"For God's sake, let some one go for the
doctor," said Clara, without lifting her
head; then, as Stukely knelt on the other
side of his friend's prostrate form, "O,
colonel, you can help us. You will know.
Is it a dangerous wound? Does it mean
death?"
"Not death, no, no. God 'forbid," said
the colonel. "It is a nasty wound;
terrible loss of blood. The bullet has hit
rather low, just below the ribs. What
was he doing with that accursed re
volver P"
"I don't know. They were on the table.
He was looking at them an hour ago, be
fore he went to bed."
"You don't know?" said the colonel,
wonderingly- "Weren't you in the room
when it happened?"
"No. I was in the corridor. I had been
in Grace's room."
"He was alone, then?"
"I-I suppose so."
"Oh, my poor, poor brother!" ejaculated
Dora. "To think that he should have lifted
his hand to take away his own life. He,
so good a Christian; he, who used to be so
happy!"
"How dare you say that he tried to take
his own life?" said Clare, not loudly, but
with intense indignation. "You know that
he is happy; that he has never known a care
since he has been my husband, except his
too thoughtful care for me. Oh, my darl
ling, what evil things will not be said of
me while your voice is silent to defend,"
she added, apostrophizing her unconscious
husband with passionale love.
"There will always be a voice to defend
you-were defense needed-while Allan's
friend is at your side," said the colonel,
quietly.
Purdew, the old butler, was in the room
kneeling by his master. He, too, had seen
gunshot wounds, and he knew that this
was a desperate one.
A groom had ridden off for the doctor.
They heard the clatter of hoofs just now
galloping along the avenue; but, let him
gallop as he might, it must be more than
half an hour before the doctor could ar
rive. The colonel and Purdew did all that
could be done to stanch the blood which
oozed slowly from Sir Allan's side. It was
a terrible half-hour, a half-hour of agony,
in which every moment might bring the
fatal end to their fainting hopes.
Clare Darnel crouched upon the ground
beside her husband, hanging over him with
white lips and despairing eyes, watching
his ghastly face, wit~i a countenance that
was al~fist as death-like.
"He will die," she kept saying to herself;
"he will die by the hand of my son. Oh,
Godl why did I ever linik my accursed life
h tir hin9"t
At last there came the sound o0 Horses,
hoofs again, galloping up the avenue--two
horses this time, and sounding in the ight
silence like six-then the opening of doors
below, and then footsteps in the 'corridor,
and the doctor was amidst them, a stout,
elderly man, commonplace, but clever, a
man to be relied on in calamity.
He put them all aside and, knelt. down
on one knee to' examine his patient; and
then, without expressing any opimion, he
ordered every one out of the room except
the colonel and Purde7w.
"Grace, take care of tiady Darnel,' said
the colonel, and Grace put:her arm around
her stepmother and tried to lead her from
the rooni, th'e girl blinded by her tears, the
woman's eyes dry and burning. She had
not yet shed a tear.
"No, Grace," she said; "- will not go
away. If I must not stay in this room,.I
will wait in the corridor. I will notgo far
from Allan."
At the mere mention of her husband's
name she burst into a flood of tears, the
first relief that had come to her since that
first shock of her reprobate son's entrance.,
It was in vain that Grace pleaded,,
in vain L..at Dora lectured. Clare Dar
nel would not move beyond 'the .out
side of the morning-ioom door. She knelt
with her ear against the key-hole, knelt
there;, istening and praying dumbly .now
and then, til.lthe doctor came out, after a
delay of an hour or more.
"Will he die&' Pshe asked, seizing the doc
tor's arm.-. dotr. -lok
Mr. Danvers, the family doctor, looked
grave and shook his head.
"It is a bad case; Lady Darnel"
"But not hopeless-oh, for God's sake
say it is not hopelessi"
"We shall have Mr Fidiecdei c hereto6
morrow morning," answered ....the doe
tor. "He can tell you better than L."
"And my beloved may die in the night,.
before help comes. Let me go to him-let
me be with him.".
"No, LadyDarnie, that, s impossble.
He must be kept very quiet-there imust
be no one in the room except Purdew and
me. I shill stay, here al.,night,"
"Thank God for that! but it is cruel 'to:
keep me away from him. Do you think
I am a child, that I have no self-c -
manar ,
"I think you are aoman, a that yo.
love your husband. " No Lady Darnel you
must not enter into .that: rooli till Sir
Allan is in a$ lesspoi'"OrQ15 tae You.
must obey me iin thiis 'tte iks saa ke."
I am going to send one of your men with a
message to my wife, and then i shall go
back to Sir Allan. . We hall have a
couple of surgical nsedon to-morro
morning." ..r :s:
Grace came from her room, where he
had been swthot..hhi W ad
established herse-k hre ta
near poor Allan."
"Dear mother, i s
and lie down on my b e d
and the word mother so
in Clare Darnl's ear, * in t
of her 4espair
blighted," .be.
her breat. Y
S co.,o lit
1 71
noW--or s.aect anyhmg about her
luckless lover-the man she had seen on
the common that morning?
She succeeded in getting Lady Darnelto
her room, where Dora was sitting piously,
before an open `Testament, reading the
s3tstory of St. Paul's shipwreck, and how
the viper came out of the fire and hung on
his arm.
In Dora's mind even the viper that came
out :of° the fire was not altogether in
applicable to the present. state of af
"My poor brotler has a viper hanging
upon him," she said to herself. "I knew
that misery would come out of that
marriage, but I did not think that it woula
take the form of bloodshed."
Lady Darnel consented to lie down on a
sofa wheeled near the fire, to please Grace
rather than from any hope of relief to be
obtained from repose. A rug was spread
over her, and she lay silent, with eyes
closed. The other two women might sup
pose that she was sleeping.
"Had you not better go to your own
room, Aunt Dora?" said Grace, a lit
tle worried by the sight of that calm
white-robed figure and the open Bible.
Grace was firm in religious faith and
reverence for the Scriptures, but she could
not seat herself down to read the Acts of
the Apostles with folded hands in the
midst of a domestic convulsion.
"It is nearly 2 o'clock, Aunt Dora. Do
go to -your own room," she said, hardly
concealing her irritation.
"No, Grace, I like to be near Allan. My
own room is at the other end of the house.
I hope I am not in your way here?"
"Not at all," said Grace, shortly; and
then she got up and went out to the corri
dor and listened at her father's door.
Not a sound. But he might die, and she
would hear no more than she heard now.
It was all so sad, so inexplicable. Her
father at death's door; he who had kissed
her and bade her good-night in his cheer
iest voice only a few hours, ago. How had
it happened? She had hardly been calm
enough even to wonder about it until now;
but now she began to ask herself how this
tragedy had come to pass.
Could it be the result of accident? Her
father, an old cavalry soldier, the hero of
two Indian campaigns-was such a man
likely to be playing with firearms as chil
dren and Cockneys play with such things?
Was he likely to handle a revolver so
ignorantly or so awkardly as to lodge its
contents in his side? And again she had
understood that Sir Allan had gone to bed
and that Lady Darnel was writing alone
in her room when she, Grace, knocked at
the door.
She longed to see her dear old colonel.
He, perhaps, might have told her some
thing; yet what could he know more than
she, since he had only appeared on the
scene after the catastrophe.
She walked up and down the corridor
for half an hour or more, till the cold
drove her back to her room. It was very
cold in that dead hour of the night, and
poor Grace was shivering in her muslin
dressing-gown when she went back to her
room.
Dora Darnel was sitting by the fire, just
as Grace had left her, steadily plowing
thr ough the Acts, as if she had been a
divinity student preparing for an exam
inationu. Lady Darnel lay with her face
hidden,, motionless, silent.
"Is she alsleep?"inquiried Grace, inalow
voice.
"I believe so."
Grace threw .herself on her bed, and
cried herself to sleep-a troubled sleep,
easily broken. She had slept thus, hardlv
for one moment losing the-consciousness
of her grief, when she was awakened by
an agonizing cry.
She started up from her pillow to see'
Dora Darnel standing beside the sofa in
the dying firelight looking down at her
brother's wife.
Clare was lying on her back, with her
clasped hands above her head, her eyes
wide open, and the eyeballs fixed in an
awful stare.
"My fault, my fault," she cried. '"I
murdered him."
The aunt and niece looked at each other,
appalled, horror-stricken: These, words
were thewords of a dreamer, and dreams
are wildest fictions; but such words at
such a moment had a thrilling effect.
CHAPTER VIII.
"ALL WAS SILENT, ALL WAS GLOdM."
Friedrick Friedricson, the great surgon,
had come and gone, Find was to come
again. So far he had beenu able ' to say a .
few .words of comfort or of hope. Sir
'Allan's condition was so precarious that
the surgenrihad not dared to atempt the
extraction of the bullet; and until that
was extracted there could be little hope of
recovery. The symtomaticjfever was more
violent than is usual in such cases. The
patient was delirious, sleepless, and un
able to take nourishment. Altogether the
case looked threatening.
Lady Darnel's slumbers had not lasted
Trng aftter Lnat '.wfl a crean 0or' ners. At
four o'clock in the morning she had
:awakened and gone to Grace's dressing
.room togive herself am cold bath, and to
:dress for the day. And now it was late in
the afternoon, and she had not closed,.-her
eyes ,since that troubled sleep on: the
sofa.
The-three women wandered about the
house like three ghosts, so pale and wan
and silentwere they alL -Grace turned to
Colonel . Stikely for her only
,comfort. : Dora; l:adi her Bible at
all times and seasoe i Lady- Dariel
sought cofort fromi no one. She pacied
with.inoiselesasu footfalln.,up and dQwn.. the
corridor outside her husband's room for
Si:o-urst jrketch. She' interiogated,~ery
body who came out-the neatly clad nurse.
in her prim cap and spotless apron; Dan
vers, the medical maxi Purdew, the old
sources of. comfort, and sneh comfort" ai
they could give was mixed wit igall.
As the day wore on she could hai dly be
induced to leave he corridor. Lunch, din
ner, all conventional meals, were scornedh,
by those three .women; but it was only
Lady Darnel who had not broken her fast
by so much as a biscit since the previous
eveing. But at last Gra beguiled her
step-mother into her den; and made her sit
by the fire and take$sie .tea and brea d
and butter,
"Di you want to be 1l, too, and make us
:still mure unhaippy" std Grace, reproach
ul u insisted on giving Lady Darnel
-her the AM door of which was
h o ao, the O sick room, while 'she herself
t * 1Loo'.= r emn a
deeply ~ ~ ~ detdbyDr.
u "ya igt t b na
i .3
eS e y suchn .
things, Aunt Dora ow dare you insinu
"Iate'fhiat aIthieGIassefrt i aiwanet";
goipng# tiaken to tsi: y s qecg hadhic i
I can anly s that lady Darneld is a i.r
couIt. ndeed, may say that you are
thwe oidy person who appears to understand
het and believe in her."
"My father... believes in -her," retorted
Grace, iio re 'and more indignant' "lThat
is enough t sfor me." n h
"our faather is under the spellou.f po
tent fascination, my dear. .Have you never
heard of a middle-aged widower subjuigat$
by the maneuvers of a handsome widow
a widow whose antecedents are wrapped ia
profound darkness."
"You are talking most unjustly, Aunt
Dora; and, what is more, you know that
you are unjust. I wonder youdon't ex
opect asomething to crawl out of your Bible
and sting you. I wouldn't sit with amy
Bible on my lap and spit venom at ino
cent people."
"If you can not control: your tongue,
Grace,-Ishall go to my own room," `sai(d
Dora, closing her Bible, and rising as if to
depart.
"Bshall be very much beholden to my
tongue if it drives you there," retorted
Grace, upon which Miss Darnel had not op
tion, and was obliged to carry out her
threat; more especiallyt as the room was
Grace's own particular den, and she was
only a visitor there.
She departed, carrying her Bible and a
large assortment of angry feelings with
her.
But she did not retire to the solitude of
her own apartments in the north wing.
Solitude is apt to be intolerable in these
periods of suspense and anxiety. Miss
Darnel went down to the drawing-room,
E and on her way met a servant who was go
ing up-stairs to announce Mr. Colehester.
He was in the drawing-room, the man
said, and wanted to see Lady Darnel, Miss
Grace, anybody.
Dora felt that she came under the head
of anybody, so she hurried to the drawing
room, eager to be en rapport with the
county; though, indeed, in spite of his
splendid position, she always looked upfn
Edward Colchester as in somewise an out
sider. He was so good-natured, so hail
fellow-well-met with all the world, so lit'
tie governed by the Draconian laws of
county society.
She found him in the drawing-room, in
hunting clothes, fidgeting about with a
whip in his hand, just as if he had that
moment dismounted to rest his hunter's
back during a pause in the morning's
work.
"My dear Miss Darnel," he cried, seizing
her hand, "what a dreadful thing this is.
Been out with Col. Thorpe's harriers; only
just heard it on my way home, or should
have been here before. How did it hap
pen? Is he very bad? How is Grace?"
"It is a long story, Mr. Colchester, and
it is a profound mystery. We none of us
know what it all means yet. My poor
brother is in a most precarious state. I
fear we will lose him."
Here the tears rushed to her eyes, and
they were not crocodile tears. If she hated
her brother's wife, she loved hier brother;
and though she could not bear to see him
happy in his second mharriage--nay, re
sented that second marriage as if it were
a deadly wrong done to herself--she could,
not calmly contemplate the possibility of
losing him.
"Don't cry," said Colchester, very much
inclined to be tearful himself. "ThinL
are never so bad as they look. But for
goodness' sake tell me how it happened.
Sir Allani shot himself, they say; late last
night, after you had all gone to bed."
"Not all," said Dora. Lady Darnel sat
up late to write letters. She was still up
at the time It happened."
"Then she must know all about it."
"She appears to know nothing. She.had
been toGrace's.room. .She was in the cor
ridor when she heard the pistol go off."
"And Sir Allan was alone in his room?"
"So it appears. lHe had gone to bed an
hour before.i He must have got up and
gone back to Lady Darnel's morning-room,
where he had left the case of revolvers'on
the table. Why he should have got up
and half-dressed himself, and gone back to
iet those pistols, is an unfathomable mys-.
tery."
"He may have heard burglars-or fancied
he ,heard them," suggested Colchester.
"Some men are always on the qui vive for
burglars-sleep with life-preservers under
their pillows. They might burgle all round
my house and I should never hear 'em;
but I know it is as weakness with some
men. How do you know that there wasn't
a burglar there? He may have shot Sir
Allan."
Dora shook her head.
"I do not believe it was a burglar. If
there had been any one in the house-any
scuffle between Sir Allan and a robber
Lady Darnel must have heard it. She
.was in the corridor when the pistol went
"Then how do you solve the mystery?".
"It is my painful conviction that the
deed was either murder or suicide."
"Suicide!" exclaimded Colchester. "Out
of the question. Why, there wasn't a
happier fellow in Wilts .than Sir Allan;
the cheeriest, the kindest, the most genial
"Kind;, genial, I ad ift," said.or;a,"but I
know my brother better than any one else
can know him. wI was his companion and
confidante fr.oim t"tiiie I left sdcoof till
the day he married his second wife. I do
not believe that lie has beeii happy of late.
His marriage was nopta satisfactory mar
riage.- Even if he hli5~ se could have felt
thoroughly satisfied ,-which I do not think
ie ever id11i knew t ha the o unty was
ssatisfiedvity his chOie2t -
"The county area - set of snobs," said
young Colchester, swallowing an evil
word with: a wry face. : Why : couldn't
t ey take such sa Spl.endid woman as Lady
Darnel on trsit?" t
"My dear Mr. ol ste, Iam thankful
to know that in good society no one is eve;
taken on trust," replied Miss. Darnel.
"What lcold society be lite it people'
"Petrhaps .-goo deal pllsanter than it
is now," retorted -the reprobate squire,
who troubled himself much less about the
antecedents of an acquaintace than about
thepedigree of a foxhound.
kMiss Darnal shruggd her shoulders,
with the air of decliiing to waste any
more time in argument with a person of
Mr. Colchester'ts ied. ntellect.
V shoul very T hlike to age Grace,'
plie Doa I ark y .hr tus €r. unt
wil -uri ,.#h :al th be
-mm s.
`-" "sud'tin ' m no m o Saaywto n
Grace Dirnel sdint ief b. Thfidih f to
Mr Colchesiter i was muihh too unhappy
to see any one. d .t':s..
Thlank'ee," aid, the' young squire; and
when'the man-rws gone he added, mood
ily, "I-didti't think she'd see me. She's
been uncommonly rough on me for the
last yea ror so. And before she went -to,
school in Paris we were no end-of -chums.
Good-bye;;, iss Darnel; I - shall call. again
to-morrow, and perhaps ,f.ady Darnel will
be well enough to see me; I have al
ways been one of her warmest admirers,
you know, and I-well, it would take a
dooced lot of hard facts to make be believe
that her influence upon Sir Allan's life has
been anything but a good influence, and
that he isn't as happy as a bird in his mar
riage with her."
And with these words, Mr. Colchester
departed, feeling more-easy in mind after
he had thus expressed himself.
The vicar's wife and the doctor's old
maiden sister called in the course of the
afternoon full of frindliness, and anxious
to see Lady Darnell were she able to re
ceive a friend. The county sent cards and
inquiries, but offered no warmer form of
sympathy. And so the long day
of grief and fear wore on, to
be followed by another " sleep
last night, and a dawn of' sorrow. There
was no improvement in the patient.- The
utmost comfort Mr. Danvers could offer
was the assurance that he saw no increase
of danger.
Dora and Grace went down to the din
ing-room to breakfast on this second
morning; but Lady Darnel could not be
induced to leave her room.
Grace-had anxieties of her own, as well
as that agonizing fear for her father's life.
She wanted very much to have a few
words with her godfather; and on Miss
Darnel retiring to her daily interview with
the housekeeper the desired opportunity
occurred. Grace and Colonel Stukely
were alone.
"Have you seen anything more of him?"
she asked, plunging at once into the heart
of her subject. "Have you heard any
thing?"
"Not a word," replied the colonel. "I
took a long walk yesterday afternoon with
the idea that I might find out something.
I called at the inn, saw the landlord, and
asked if he had any strangers lodging in
his house, Not a mortal. Then I went
the round of the better class of cottagers,
mostly pensioners of yours and Lady
Darnel's to which you have introduced
me at odd times. I didn't put my
questions directly, but let out our idea of
a burglary at Darnel, and asked if any
strangers had been noticed about the
place. I even walked across to Handle
bury Union, with the notion that it was
just possible the poor fellow may have
had to take refuge there."
"0, colonel, how utterly dreadful,"
"My dear child, the Union has sheltered
better men than he. However no such
person had been heard of there. So I take
it, Mr. Camillac must' have had a few
shillings about him in spite of his wretched
appearance, and that he has gone on~it
somhe other place. The mystery is that he
should have come here at all, unless with'
the-idea of seeing you:."
"hIeeli convinced "that.he came here to
see-ime, and for no other purpose, and- that
he is lying dead ox d.ying- on some diearyi
cdmmon, where'the fo* hounds are more.'
lilYy td fijid hin-; than anybody else,"
saifd Gric iinpetu o~y.. ' "~, what double
isey. Victor - or . dead-my
fatlie's'14 trenling in the balance. It
s~i li as :if ~hie wrld were coming to an
Iv: fn i n-the colonel argned with his god
danugter,;rgingthatinlife~the unforeseen
is :alrways likely; and -that': there- was no
reason: to grieve for. the rfateof a young
man who had ;perhaps already fallen on
his feet. ' Grace was not to be comforted.
"To think of me,:surraunded by all these
luxuries'," she exclaimedlooking angry at
the richly furnished breakfast table, while'
the man who was' to -he my husband has
not as good a. shelter as the stable dogs.o
If I were not so anxious about my:father,
I would take. a couple of dogs and ride
over every bit of waste ground within ten
miles tilI found that poor fellow."
"If that is your idea, Grace, I can carry
it out for you, dogs and all," said the
c* el kindly.
"Oh,:my dear godfather, how kind you
a~iet'" cried the:girl, repenting all her rude
ness. Forgive me for my ingratitude just
now. I hardly know .whati, say. L;am
so very miserable:-about ·ictor-about
my father and Lady Darnel most of all. '
.-"Poor Lady Darnel; yes, for your
father's accident: is a terrible blow for
her.'"
"Tt,.i' not that only."-said Grace, drop
"It:1is not that only," said Grace, drop
ping- her voice, and drawing a little
nearer to the colonel. "But it. is all so
strange-so full of mystery."
And then she told Colonel Stukely how
sheohad.been awakened by a cry of agony
fron LadyDarnel, :and of those strange,
woirds spoken in ardream. "My fault,- my
fault-y-I murdereL him!"
:Wias not- th.t strange?" asked Grace
with a troubledl:_ook
"Only strange dreams are strange. Would
you~accuse, Lady Darne.l e, of having shot:
her husband .pQ, snuch;, evidence? She,
f laleepzwith;her mind-fuJll of death and
murder, and dreamed that she herself had
fired the fatal Gslpt or had been individ
ually concerned in the deed. Dreams for
thei .ost pairt. are sheer lunacy. God
knows-what hieous visions her troubled
brain=may have wovyen."
-,Y~s, that is just what I thought at the
ut yt xwods have haunted me
evrisinceg. qYoknowhw fond ,Lam of
ay, g D e -ý elieve I love her almost
as wepll asa, #citdcbhave loved my own
dear emotheri d spared her to me.
And ye thee are i w I feelwor
ried and prplxed about t mystery of
her past life Aunt IDora says such cruel
"My ear, it i youraunt's nature to
say cruel thingt h in the nature
of wasps and hionts - ro sting. I don't
eish to be rude abont ytour Jamly~ but I
fanucythat old Sir George Da Vs econd
tife ata have introduceda rtfulrly
venaous strain into the fine old stock.
It is agood thing for thou race that Miss
Darnelhas remainxed apipe 7 I
"Yes, Aunt D hasa:peculiar talent
eied it; losparingly with regard .to
Srnel. I always ,take :my spmother's
pawt yet in thJsex last dreadfl days,
traher passt i age;
brtethathe devotio o my -ather
11, -O
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branche. Ladit' >: i: ed ao :11 dc part
" °x K: r ...; mrets. Stnd n rl ' af r t.nns Send
for cirsnlar ftree -\. · "--s
' A. 0 lyAI: p icipais.
Cor. Main Street and 6th Auenue,
HELE:NA, M. T.
1865- 18865
INTERNATIONAI. HOTEL,
Centrally Located. Convenient to Zusies Part
of the City. Superior Accomm.da . ;s.
Prices to Suit the Times.
Large Rooms, Well Furnished,
Liberally .Manraged.
SPECIAL RATES TO FAM.i.1i.
14. LISSNEIR, - op'
LINDSAY &
IHELEfA, MO
Jobbers of Meats, Fish, Fr. rr educe,
Poultry, Oysters a ii dS
I COiLI CO
MILES CITY, Ma T.
Branch of the (theyenile ~taddleiry House.
THE LARCEST STOCK OF
. JSaddlery -:- Goods
--IN MONTANA.
TENTS a~d TA.RY'A ULTINS. .
IfURWILi WEST. Western AgenY s for Towers' f.sh Brand Slickers.
...iCORRESPONDENCE SOLICITED.
that a awife and as a moer ne nsa MOR AN
been a martyr."fl
"I didnoteven know that she had" any
childreii," said Grace. lIEA-LER IN
-'"Yes, there was a son, bat he is dead,
S *w a basd- Geso, .ten t e eral erlhandise,
"A very bad ~on--bllowhi~gthe fi'to isteps .
ft a guilty father. Your stepmother's life D - U- Q :UI E.
has been blameless-it has been even he
roie. You can notlove her too well." . Fergus Co., - Montana.
"And I have loved her with all my
arton loving here. And I will trus lii- Special Enduceme.ntit Offerbid to Ranch
plicitly, cpme what may. Dear old god-. and Stck mn'.
father, I feel ever so much happier after
,his talk with you." GOOD HOTEL, STABLE AND BLACK
"And I'll order my horse and scour the SMITHT SHOP IN CONNECTION.
country in search of this ragamuffifn suitor
of yours," said the colonel, and to himself
he added, and if I findhim it shall go hard giCall and examine goods and prices,
If Idon't buy him off pretty cheap, ahd set - --.
this little fool of mine free to smile upon
honest Tom Colchestar' R A. RICHI
[TO RE 4CONTINUED.J
S-,. ,,,, DEALER Lt"
F. E. WRIGHT & Co. GonIralMeroChandise
i-PE· LEzEn s- ... . ROCKY PICINT, M. T.
General Mlerchandise EDURT
UTICA, M.T: T . Miners' and Stockm~en's Supplies,
Good Stfabl,.telis andl.mt . Smho I )ZLow prices aiddirst class new goods..i*
inl connection. oo sDTABLEIN CONNETITION
Best Hotel in the Judith Btasin Highest, Market Price Paid for Furs and Skins.
'niOsl diirect road to" the Yogi :mnes. .:C LACY,
LEW[IB N .H TEL,' -BR0EEDERS OF
LEW .OW.NT Thor ghbred Merino
LEWISTOWN, M. T
S H EE P.
First Class in every particular. I
FIne Bar in Conniection._ _ _ _
& in connet0o. 'We ain to handle and breed as' heavy a shearing
S;. -..,Stab.:$1i coan!.C."; · ;. 2 Merino sheep as the demand of ulanaufacturers for a
S-....... light, long saple woot, and onur climatic conditions,
W H , Pr rietor.r'we bind r.im from Hghwoid :Riinch, -twenty
W. n vr Yrmtesfrom-Fort BenBen'on. !am'band run firom Belt
tanch (at Belt crseek bridge), twenty-five mrns from
Sheep for S . 1 .,'"rbret 3hepherd . ogs."
Address -PECK & LACY, FoRT B:adroN, i. T.
,.,i TH.E. NOR1 ISTERN.
HAVE 8 141 EP FORW 8Ak -. tI VITA3ron o' a ¶ie U
Thiersserw. - can alre sight-ewes, ewpR .nW.:ii d _ _o__!__-__,_-
larmbs, stick sheelp- or ,othem