THE FAYETTE FALCON, SOMEP' ILLE, TENNESSEE
OF THE
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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.