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THE FAYETTE FALCON, SOMEP' ILLE, TENNESSEE OF THE II 1 i www i f - I I I 1 S'l A LI 'I 111 . f B.' JBSAvHV kWSWTS&O SfV LITTLE. .jjunumwiiui CHAPTER IllContinued. 22 "Good evening, Cranston," he 6ald pleasantly. ' Cranston was also upon his feet the Fame Instant Ills Instincts were en tirely true. He knew If he leaped for Ms rifle, Ian would be upon his back In nn Instant, and he would have no ichance to use It. The rifle was now out of the running, as they were at about equal distances from it,1 and .neither would have time to swing or mini It. Dan's sudden appearance had been o utterly unlooked for, that for a mo ment Cranston could find no answer. Ills eyes moved to the rifle, then to Jhls belt where hung his hunting knife, that still lay on the pallet. "Good evening, Fulling," he replied, trying his hardest to fall Into that strange spirit of nonchalance with which hrave men have so often met their ad versaries, and which Pan had now. Tra surprised to see you here. What do you want?" Dan's voice when He replied was no more warm than the snow banks that reinforced the lean to. "I want your xlfie also your snow shoes and your supplies of food. And I think I'll take your blankets, too." "And I suppose you mean to fight for them?" Cranston asked. His lips drew up In a smile, but there was no smile In the tone of his words. "You're right," Dan told him, and lie stepped nearer. "Not only for that, Cranston. We're face to face at last hands to hands. I've got a knife in my pocket, but I'm not even oIng to bring it out It's hands to hands you and I until everything's stfuare between us." "1'erhaps you've forgotten that day on the ridge?" Cranston asked. "You haven't any woiian to save you this time." "I remember the, day, and that's part of the debt. The thing you did yester day Is part of It, too. It's all to be set tled at last, Cranston, and I don't be lieve I could spare you If you went to your knees before me. You've got a clearing out by the flra big as a prize ring. We'll go out there side by side. And hands to hands we'll settle all these debts we have -between us with no rules of fighting and no mercy in the end I" They measured each other with their eyes. Once more Cranston's gaze stole to his rifle, but lunging out, Dan kicked It three feet farther into the shadows of the lean-to. Dan saw the dark face drawn with passion, the hands clenching, the shoulder muscles growing into hard knots. And Cran ston looked and knew that merciless vengeance that age old sin, and Chrlstless creed by which he lived had followed him down and was clutching him at last. He paw It In the position of the stal wart form before Rim, the clear level yes that the moon light made bright as steel, the hard lines, the slim, pow- Good Eving, Cranston." erful hands. He could read It In the tones of the voice tones that he hlm pelf could not Imitate or pretend. The boar had come for the settling of old debts. Be tried to corse his adversary as a weakling and a degenerate, but the ob scene words be sought for' would not come to his lips. Here was his fate, and because the darkness always fades before the light, and the courage of wickedness always creaks before the courage of righteousness. Cranston was afraid to look it in the face. The fear m 2 SBOWAT, AMO COWPmT. iLjipiwiwiti i uwumiwuw sen sew i 1 of defeat, of death, of heaven knows what remorselessness with which this grave giant would administer justice was upon him, and his heart seemed to freeze In his breast. Cravenly he leaped for his knife on the blankets below him. Dan was upon him before he ever reached It. lie sprang as a cougar spings, Incredibly fast and with shat tering power. Both went down, and for a long time they writhed and strug gled In each other's arms. The pine boughs rustled strangely. The dark, gaunt hand reached In vain for the knife. Some resistless power seemed to be holding his wrist and was bending its bone as an Indian bends a bow. Tain lashed through him. And then this dark-hearted man, who had never known the meaning of mer cy, opened his lips to scream that this terrible enemy be merciful to him. But the words wouldn't come. A ghastly weight had come at his throat, and his tortured lungs sobbed for breath. Then, for a long time, there was a curious pounalng, lashing sound in the evergreen boughs. It seemed merciless and endless. But Dan got up at last, in a strange, heavy silence, and swiftly went to work. He took the rifle and filled It with cartridges from Cranston's belt. Then he put the remaining two boxes of shells Into his shirt pocket. The supplies of food the sack of nutri tious Jerked venison like dried bark, the little package of cheese, the boxes of hard tack and one of the small sacks of propared flour he tied, with a single kettle. Into his heavy blan kets and flung them with the rifle upon his back. Finally he took the pair of snow shoes from the floor. He worked coldly, swiftly, all the time munching at a piece of Jerked venison. When he had finished he walked to the door of the lean-to. It seemed to Dan that Cranston w'his pered faintly, from his unconscious ness, as he passed; but the victor did not turn to look. The snow shoes crunched away Into the darkness. On the hill behind a half dozen wolves stragglers from the pack frisked and leaped about In a curious way. A strange smell had reached them on the wind, and when the loud, fearful steps were out of hearing, It might pay them to creep flown, one by one, and Investi gate Its cause. The gray circle about the fire was growing Impatient. Snowbird waited to the last instant before she admitted this fact But It Is possible only so long to deny the truth of a thing that all the senses verify, and that moment for her was past She noticed that when she went to her hands and knees, laboriously to cut a piece of the drier wood from the rain-soaked, rotted snag that was her principal supply of fuel, every wolf would leap forward, onlyto draw back when she stood straight again. She worked desperately to keep the firo burning bright She dared not neglect It for a moment Except for the single pistol ball that she could afford to ex pend on the wolves of the three she had the fire was her last defense. But It was a lodng fight. The rain soaked wood smoked without flame, the comparatively dry core with which Dan had started the fire had burned down, and the green wood, hacked with such heart-breaking difficulty from the saplings that Dan had cut needed the most tireless attention to burn at all. Her nervous vitality was flowing from her In a frightful stream. Too long she had tolled without food In the constant presence of danger, and she was very near Indeed to utter ex haustion. But at the same time she knew she must not faint That was one thing she could not do to fall un conscious before the last of her three cartridges was expended In the right way. Again she went forth to the sapling, and this time It seemed to her that If she simply tossed the ax through the air, she could fell one of the gray crowd. But when she stooped to pick It nn she didn't finish the thought She turned to coax the fire. And then she leaned sobbing over the sled. "What's the user she cried. "He won't come back. What's the use of fighting any more? "There's always use of fighting," her father told her. lie seemed to speak with difficulty, and his face looked strange and white. The cold and the exposure were having their effect on his weakened system, and unconscious ness was a near shadow Indeed. "But dearest If I could only make you do what I want you to" "Whatr "You're able to climb a tree, and tf you'd take these coats, you wouldn't freeze by morning. If you'd only hare the strength" "And see you torn to pieces H "I'm old, dear and Tery tired and Td crawl away Into the shadows, where you couldn't see. There's no use minc ing words, Snowbird. You're a brave girl always have been since a little thing, as God Is my Judge and you know we must fuce the truth. Better one of us die than both. And I prom ise I'll never feel their fangs. And I won't take your pistol with me either." Her thought flashed to the clasp hunting knife that he carried in his pocket But her eyes lighted, and she bent and kissed him. And the wolves leaped forward even at this. , "We'll stay it out," she told him. "We'll fight it to the last just as Dan would want us to do. Besides It would only mean the same fate for me, In a little while. I couldn't cling up there forei'er and Dan won't come back." She was wholly unable to gain on the fire. Onjy by dint of, the most heart-breaking toll was she able to se cure any dry fuel for It at all. Every length of wood she cut had to be scraped of bark, and half the time the fire was only a sickly column of white smoke. It became Increasingly diffi cult to swim? the ax. The trail was afcnost at Its end. The after-midnight hours drew on by one across the face of the wilder ness, and she thought that the deep ening cold presaged dawn. Her fin gers were numb. Once more she went to one of the saplings, but she stumbled and almost went to her face at the first blow. It was the Instant that her gray watch ers had been waiting for. The wolf that stood nearest leaped a gray streak out of the shadow and every wolf In the pack shot forward with a yell. It was a short, expectant cry; but It chopped off short c For with a half-sob, and seemingly without men tal process, she aimed her pistol and fired. A fast-leaping wolf Is one of the most difficult pistol targets that can be imagined. It bordered on the mlracu- Soma Resistless Power Seemed to Bo Holding His Wrist lous that she did not miss him alto gether Her nerves were torn, their control over her muscles largely gone. Yet the bullet coursed down through the lungs, inflicting a mortal wound. The wolf had leaped for her throat ; but he fll short She staggered from a blow, and she heard a curious sound In the region of her hip. But she didn't know that the fangs had gone home in her soft flesh. The wolf rolled on the ground ; and if her pistol had possessed the shocking power of a rifle, he would have never got up again. As it was, he shrieked once, then sped off In the darkness to die. Five or six of the nearest wolves, catching the smell of his blood, bayed and sped after him. But the remainder of the great pack fully 13 of the gray, gaunt creatures came stealing across the snow to ward her. White fangs had gone home ; and a new madness was In the air. Straining Into the silence, a perfect ly straight line between Cranston's camp and Snowbird's, Dan Falling came mushing across the snow. HIS sense of direction had never been obliged to stand such a test as this tiefore. Snowbird's fire was a single dot on a vast plateau; yet he had gone atralgbt toward It (TO BE CONTINUED.) Device Overcomes Sleeplessness. No one need suffer from sleepless ness any longer. A device has been Invented which, It Is claimed, will send the worst case of Insomnia to the land of nod In a few minutes. The ssachlne, which In appearance Is rather complicated, consists of a num ber of discs which, when tile starting handle Is moved, rotate In opposite directions. All that the sufferer has to do Is to keep his eyes on the discs as they turn, until after a short spell of watching he gradually sinks Into a sound sleep. Hadnt Watted Any Tims. A yonng couple rushed Into a mar riage license bureau recently and an nounced to the clerk that they wished to be married at once. Dan Cupid's executive officer surveyed the couple from under grizzled brows and sal& severely: "I'm afraid this is a run away match." "Well, your hono" returned the prospective groom, "I cant exactly say we ran, but wa walked pretty fast" rrvTVTTVC''rVTr'n'r I uEjLS HjLJ CLASSICS EAST LYNNE By MRS. HENRY WOOD Condensation by Mrs. Ruth H. Frost, Worcester, Mass. Ellen Price waa bora at Worcester, England, Jan. 17, 1NU, the daughter f a glove mill factnrrr. lo 1X18 abe married Henry Wood, bead of a lnrge shipping aad backlog; Arm, whose business kept them (or suaie 20 years la France. Her hus band died In 1MHJ, bat she lived till Feb. 10, 1W. Her literary ca reer began with 100 prise tem perance tale. She began making contributions to Rentier's Miscellany, and In 1H67, after her husband death, she became editor and proprietor of The Argosy, In vfhlch appeared her later novels. Her first great ancceas was "East Lynne," In 1S01, the book by which ahe Is known today. The. vogue of the story was enormous It was translated Into sev eral languages, and theatregoers of aa older generation la Doth England aad America knew various very suc cessful versions of It. She wrote some forty long novels and many abort tales, some of which ranked as ''beat sellers' long before the Invention of that phraae. Her powera ranged from extreme melodrama to the portrayal of every-day life. She waa perhaps unduly prised In her day aad Is unduly appreciated bow, bat that la the way with best-sellers. "The Shadow of Ashlydyat was her own favorltei her Johnny Ludlow tales are perhaps her most artistic work. "East Lynne," however, Is the book her same sug gests to readers. LEFT a penniless orphan when a timid and sensitive girl of eight een, the beautiful Lady Isabel Vane found herself at the mercies of an unsympathetic relative. In her In nocence she admired a certain frequent visitor at this home Captain Francis Levlson, nn unprincipled spendthrift Beyond heartlessly leading her on to care for him he made no honorable mention of marriage. Small wonder was it then that she accepted Archi bald Carlyle, when that worthy and straightforward country lawyer, the purchaser of her father's estate at East Lynne, took courage because of her distress over her unpleasant sur roundings to ask her in marriage. "I ought to tell you I must," she confessed to him In hysterical tears. "Though I have said yes,' I do not yet this has come upon me so by sur prise," she stammered. "I like you very much ; I esteem and respect you ; but I do not yet love you. "I should wonder If you did," Archi bald replied. "But you will let me earn your love, Isabel??" "Oh, yes," she earnestly answered, "I hope so." Passively she le him have his first kiss. "My dearest," he said, "It Is all I ask." Six years passed. Life at East Lynne was not all that one might wish for. To be sure Lady Isabel had a most de voted husband and three lovely chil dren. But her. happiness was marred by two thorns, of which her husband was quite unaware. Cornelia Carlyle, the domineering and narrow-minded half-sister of Archibald, had steeled her heart against Isabel rom the be ginning, and made life at East Lynne quite miserable for the poor little inex perienced bride. The second disturb ance was the suspicion that her hus band loved and was now renewing his love for Barbara Hare, the daughter of the neighborhood Justice. Incited by the Idle gossip of servants, this suspi cion grew Into Jealousy. It was true that Archibald seemed to have many meetings with the pretty Barbara hut how was poor Lady Isa bel to know that In reality these meet ings concerned only private business of a professional nature? Barbara Hare had a brother, Richard, who years before had been accused of murder. Her mother was an Invalid, and her stubborn, unforgiving father would hear naught of the son who had dis graced him. Barbara's secret meet ings with her exiled brother had con vinced her of his innocence. Her one recourse, when Implored by Richard to seek help In finding the real criminal, was to confide In their old family friend, Archibald Carlyle. Always delicate In health and wor ried sick over her Imagined troubles, Lady Isabel was finally persuaded by her physician to go to the French coast for change of air and scenery. The autocratic Cornelia forbade her being accompanied by the children. Lady Isabel was looking forward to a lonely fortnight before her husband was to Join her, when she chanced to meet Francis Levlson. exiled to the continent because of his debts in Eng land. Bewildered when she began to realize that she still had that indefin able, Involuntary feeling toward him, she was yet completely fascinated, as in the old days before her marriage. She would have given all she possessed to overcome this attraction. Courage failed her to confide all in her husband. Full of sophistries as before, the un scrupulous Captain Levlson compelled her to listen to him. The past Is gone," he saM ; "but if ever two people were formed to love each other you and I were. Isabel. I would have de clared myself, had I dared, but my uncertain position my debts well, I never knew how passionately I loved you until you became the wife of an other. Isabel, I love you passionately still." Lady Isabel felt It her duty to repel his advances, but there still remained that undercurrent of feeling for him that she could not comprehend. Fear ful lest she betray herself, she dis missed him abruptly, sent for her hus band to take her home, and made a pitiful attempt to drive all thoughts of Francis Levlson from her mind. It was well-nigh Impossible, ner plans to forget him were .completely frustrated when her generous husband, Innocently enough, merely thinking to repay Captain Levlson for his kind at tentions to Lady Isabel on the French coast, invited that profligate to East Lynne as a place of shelter where he might be safe from his creditors until something could be arranged. Like a serpent Levlson boldly took every occasion to whisper Into Lady Isabel's ears all the meetings that he spied between her husband and Bar bara Hare. Under a misapprehension that her husband was giving his love to Barbara and frantic with the Jeal ous belief that the two were uniting to deceive her, Lady Isabel finally yielded to Levlson's pleadings and eloped with him. No sooner had she taken the fatal step than she was filled with remorse. Almost Immediately she discovered the true character of this Insincere rake for whom she had given up her all. In a year he deserted her, leaving her un born child nameless. Too proud to accept help from rela tives, she decided to become a gover ness. When she chanced to hear of the opportunity to return to East Lynne as the governess to her own children she could not withstand the temptation, so great was her longing to see them again. It was a desperate chance to take, for she might be rec ognized, though Illness and the rail road accident which had killed her child had alted her entirely. Her disguise was complete, as, heartsick, she rode again along the familiar road toward East Lynne. When the dear old house loomed up before her, Its gay and cheerily lighted windows a contrast to her own downcast spirits, she began to wish she had never under taken the project. But for the sake of seeing her own children again she would have turned back. Her fears of being recognized were allayed when she saw that no one suspected for a moment that the gray, saddened and disfigured "Madame Vine" was Lady Isabel. East Lynne had a new mistress now none other than her fancied rival of old, Barbara nare. Not until she real ized for the first time that Archibald's love could not longer be hers did Isa bel feel an Intensity of love for him that she had never experienced as his wife. And yet she became almost happy again in winning the affection of her children, though her Joy In being with them was tempered 'with sorrow in caring for delicate little William, her second born, knowing as she did that he could not long be with them. Events moved along fast There came the time when Francis Levlson, returning to West Lynne to seek elec tion to parliament, only to be defeated by Carlyle, was convicted of the crime which had overshadowed Richard nare for so many years. At East Lynne, after the death of little Wil liam, a sudden Illness came upon Lady Isabel. When she realized that she was falling rapidly she begged upon her deathbed to be allowed to see Ar chibald Carlyle. "I could not die without your for giveness," she murmured. "Do not turn from me! Bear with me one little minute ! Only say you forgive me, and I shall die In peace." "Isabel! Are you were you Mad ame Vine?" "Oh, forgive me for disgracing your home! And forgive me for coming back! I could not stay away from you and my children ! The longing for you was killing me. I never knew a moment's peace after the mad act I was guilty of In quitting you. Not an hour had I departed when my repent ance set In. Oh, forgive me! My sin was great, but my punishment waa greater." "Why did you go?" "Did you not know? I grew suspi cious of you. I thought you were de ceitful, and In my sore Jealousy I lis tened to the tempting of him who whis pered to me of revenge. It was not true, was It?" she feverishly asked. "Can you suggest such a thing, know ing me as you did then, as you must have since? Isabel, I never was false to you in thought word or deed. Yes, I forgive you. fully, freely. May God bless you and take you to his rest in heaven!" She raised her head from the pillow and clung to his arm, lifting her face with its sad yearning. Tenderly ht laid her down again and suffered his lips to rest on hers. "TJnttl eternity." he whispered. Copyright. 1911. by the Post Publlghlni Co. (The Boston Port). Copyright la the TJnlted Kingdom, tha Dominions. Its Col onies and dependencies, under tha copy right act. by tha Post Publishing Co, Boston. Um, U. a A. AD rights . served. Interested, The descendants of this old family, In selling some heirlooms, sold a punch ladle once used in pouring a glass of punch for General Washing tan. "Well, well P "And It brought 11.000." "Any punch left?" LsulxvEle Coo-rier-JournsJ. The Treasurer "Devil" By REV. II. OSTROM, D. D. Extension Department, Moody Ullile Institute, Chicago. TEXT Judas also knew the place. lohn 13:2. Keeping good "company is well, but It cannot guarantee that one Is good. Judas U with the other eleven apostles, and with Jesus too. He knows the Gar den of Gethseiu une as a place where Jesus oft en visits. U has been there with hi... mvol-tl'.olp!lD Ik J Like the foolish virgins inthepar- aiue, ne uua u enough of the oil of the Holy Spirit's Influence on his soul to make him ac cept our Lord's company In such a place, but he will not accept of eternal life as a gift. Outwardly he has Joined the Apostles' Band, but, inward ly he is a thief. Good company, but a thief's heart! His choosing to "Join" before he had "received" may have cost him his soul. If he had humbly Insisted upon not Joining until he had accepted our Lord Jesus Christ as the one who would fulfill all sacriflclul types for sinners, then he might have ranked with John or I'aui. lie knew the place. Those trees could talk to him. He could gather messages from the footprints and paths there. The very air was elo quent, to him. Oh, there are records which do not fit into music boxes or conform to machinery. They are heard at most unexpected times. As if started by unseen hands, In the dark of the niKht, they compel us to listen. Just ns some who read this can hardly help thinking of the path up to the old scUoolhouse, where, ?.n the winter revival, they sang, "Come ye sinners poor and needy," or of the old kitchen in the old farmhouse where family prayers were conducted once a day. How often the Spirit of God whispers, "Forget not all his ben efits." But Judas hnd a sinful heart !nd would not yield that to Jesus the lln-bearer. The place was outside the nan, the heart of sin was close with in. Croon over the place, he might. Jut like a soldier on guard, he would Jght Jesus away from that citadel of the heart. And why should Judas be one of 3ie twelve? To be sure, he Is later mbstltuted by Matthias, but why was le ever admitted? "I have chosen ou twelve and one of you Is a devil," ire the words so startling. And that me the treasurer I Yes, or when God s manifested fighting sin, he asks for lo favors or quarter. He fights it n Its own ground and out lu the ipen. The apostles are In the thick if the centuries-old conflict with hu nan sin. So far as the record states here could not have been much money lor Judas to handle anyway. But he ran be allowed to add and subtract ind have first-hand Information, .here, If there had been any trick ry advised, he would have known ibout It Now this Is the man who sells Jesus !or a few cents more than five dollars. Fes, but this Is the man who through )ut the whole known record never itfites that he finds any trace of decep 3n or trickery on Jesus' part This son of perdition" on the Inside, with Irst-hand information, this "devil" ;annot find a flaw or a fleck in all the itructure of Jesus' conduct. He ob ects to Mary anointing him, but re nember, he nowhere calls him Lord." Do we not see that today men and liomen, wayward and guilty, will say that they do not criticize Jesus? His tnemles admit by the ten thousand, that they "find no fault In him." Yet 9iey refuse him their hearts. How (ould Jesus . Christ be such a true teacher, leader of men and example 'f his repeated declaration of his fcavlor-shlp were false? How can a nan properly appreciate his teaching ind his wonder works and at the same iioment reject his shed blood? You Jdinlre him, but you' do not receive lra ; beware lest, for a price, you sell ilm. There Is another "place" mentioned U the account. Judas went to "hla wn place." He had heard of that , llace from Jesus himself. "To be just into hell" had doubtless rung in lis ears more than once. No garden Hth olive trees there. No Jesus to ruch one there. The sale Judas made Ind that place are closely associated, r he will bear him teach and even jndorse his greatness, but yet have tie heart to sell him, that one place a his destiny. Soul, do not reject the Lord Jesus aa Saviour today, lest te borrow the heart that so rejects troves to be the heart that sells, and on enter that "place." Like a garden kho trees and flowers all speak et (leasing, so Is his grace today, but, f you reject that I would that yon right realize that you turn toward adas' place. Judaa had, as ft were, deed In band to that place when he ras right In the company of Jesus. it had fully realized It, doubtless the tery possession of It would have been D him like fire. The Bringer of Good Things. Behold upon the mountains the feet tf him that brtngeth good tidings, that tubllsheth peace ! Nahum 1 IS.