The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, November 23, 1902, Page 12

12 the unfinished storehouse, which never ‘was to see completion, was a_lamen:able cle of gaping doors and windows— melancholy skeleton. Last of all. Pres- had”caught a glimpse of Dyke him- seated in his rocking chair on the h, his beard end hair unkempt, mo- Jess, looking with vague eyes upon his hands that lay palm upward and idle in his lap. Magnus on his way to S8an Francisco was joined at Bonneville by Osterman. Upon seating himself in front of the mas- ter of Los Muertos in the smoking-car of the train, this latter, pushing back his hat and smoothing bis bald head, ob- served: *Governor, Anything wrong these days? The other answered In the negativi for ull that. Osterman was right. The Governor had aged suddenly. former erectness was .gone, the broad shoulders stooped a little. the strong lines of his thin-lipped mouth were relaxed, and his d, as it clasped over the yellowed ivory knob of his cane, had an unwonted tremulousness not hitherto noticeable. But the change in Magnus was more than physical. = At last, in the full tide of pow- er, president of the league, known and talked of in every county of the State, leader in a great struggle, consulted, de- ferred to as the “‘prominent man,6” at length attaining that position, so long and vainly sought tor, he yet found no pleas- ure in his triumph, and little but bitter- mess in life. His success had come by devious methods, reached by ure means He was a briber. He could never for- get that. To further his ends, disinter- ested, public-spirited, even philanthropic a6 those were, he had connived with knavery, he, the politiclan of the old school, of such rigorous integrity, who had abandoned a “career” rather than compromise with honesty. At this elev- enth hour, invoived and entrapped in the fine-spun web of a mew order of things, bewildered by Osterman’s dex- terity, by hit volubility and glibness, goaded and harassed bevond the point of Teason by the aggression of the trust he fought, he had at last failed. He had fallen; he had given a bribe. He had thought that, after all, this would make but little difference with him. The affair was known only to Osterman, Broderson and Annixter; they would not judge him. being themselves {rwpived. He could still reserve a bold front; could still hold his ead high. As time went on the affair would lose its point. 2 But this was not so. Some subtle ele- ment of his character had forsaken him. He felt it. He knew it. Some certain stiffness that had given him all his rig- jdity, that had lent force to his authority, weight to his dominance, temper to his fine, inflexible hardness, was diminishing day by day. In the decisions which he, as president of the league, was called upon to make s0 ofien, he now hesitated. He could no longer be arrogant, masterful, acting upon his own judgment, inde- ndent of opinion. He began to consult is lieutenants, asking their advice, dis- trusting his own opinions. He made mis- takes, blunders, and when those were brought to his notice, took refuge in bluster. He knew it to be bluster—knew that sooner or later his subordinates would recognize it as such. How long could he maintain his position? So only he could keep his grip upon the lever of control till the battle was over, all would be weil. If not, he would fall, and, once fallen, he knew that néw, briber that he was, he would never rise again. He was on his way at this moment to the city to consult with Lyman as to a certain issue of the contest between the raliroad and the ranchers, which, of late, had been brought to his notice. ‘When appeal had been taken to the Su- preme Court by the league's executive committee, certsin test cases had been chosen, which should represent all the lands in guestion. Neither Magnus nor Annixter had so appealed, believing, of course, that their cases were covered by the test cases on trial at Washington. Magnus had here biundered again, and the league’s agents in San Francisco had written to warn him that the railroad might be able to take advantage of a technicality, and by pretending that neither Quien Sabe nor Los Muertos were included in the appeal, attempt to put its dummy buyers in possession of the two ranches before the Supreme Court handed down its decision. The ninety days al- lowed for taking this appeal were nearly at an end and after then the railroad could act. Osterman and Magnus at unce decided to go up to the city, there joining Annixter (who had been absent from Quien Sabe for the last ten days), and talk the matter over with Lyman. Ly- man, becavse of his position as com- missioner, might be cognizant of the rail. road’s plens, @nd, at the same time, could give sound legal advice as to what was to be done should the new rumor prove frazeled out. but, you Jlook ail had been “Say,” remarked Osterman, as the train pulled out of the Bonneville station, and the two men settied themselves for the long journey, “say, Governor, what's all up with Buck Annixter these days? He's got & bean about something, sur “ had mot noticed,” answered Magnus. “Mr. Annixter has been away some time lately. 1 cannot imagine what should keep him so long in San Francisco.” “That's it said Osterman, winking, “have three guessee. Guess right and you et a cigar. ] guess g-i-r-1 spells Hilma ree. And a little while ago she quit Quien Sabe and hiked out to Frisco. So did Buck. Do I draw the cigar? It's up to you.” 1 beve moticed her,” ‘A fine figure of a woman. make some man a good wife.” “Hoh! Wife! Buck Annixter marry! Not much! He's gone a-girling at last, old Buck! It's as funny as twins. Have to josh him about it when 1 see him, sure.” But when Osterman and Magnus at last fell in with Annixter in the vestibule of the Lick House on Montgomery sireet nothing could be got out of him. He was in an execrable humor. When Magnus had broached the subject of business he had declared that all business could go to pot, and when Osterman, his tongue in his cheek, had permitted himself a most distant allusion to a female girl. Annixter had cursed him for a *“busy " 80 vociferously and tersely that even Osterman was cowed. “Well,” insinuated Osterman, “what are you dallying ‘round Frisco so much for?” observed Magnus. Sbe would “Cat fur. to make kitten breeches,” re- torted Annixter with oracular vagueness. Two weeks before this time Annixter bhad come up to the city and gone at once to a certain hotel on Bush street, behind the First National Bank, that he knew was kept by a family connection of the Trees. In his conjecture that Hilma and her parents would stop here he was right. Their names were on the regis- ter. Igporing custom, Annixter maich- ed straight up to their rooms and before he was aware of it was “eating crow” before old man Tree. Hilma and her mother were out at the time. Later.on Mrs. Tree returned alone, lJeaying Hilma to spend the day with one of her cousins who lived far out on Stan- yan street in a littie house facing the Between Annixter and Hilma's parents & reconciliation had been effected, An- mixter convincing them both of his sin- eerity in wisbing to make Hilma his wifc. , however, refused to see him. As soon as she knew he had followed her to San Francisco she had been unwilling to return to the hotel, and had arranged with her cousin to spend an indefinite time at her house. Bhe was wretchedly unhappy during &ll this time: would not set foot out of doors and cried herself to sleep night after ht. She detested the city. Al- ready she was miserably homesick for the ranch. She r-membered the days she had spent in tbe little dairy-house, happy in her work, making butter and cheese; skimming the great pans of milk, scouring the copper vessels and vats, plunging her arms, elbow deep, into the white curds; coming and going in that -tmunph:lr& ;n' freshness and cleanliness su t, gay, singing, supremely happy Just because the sun shone, Bhe remem jered ler long walks toward ‘he mission late in the afternoon, her ex- cursions for cresses underneath the long trestle, the crowing of the cocks, the J'staut whistle of the passing trains, the fainr sounding of the Angelus. She re- cullea with infinite longing the solita:y expanse of the ranches. the level reachcs between the horizons, full of light and silence; the heat at noon, the cloudless iridescence of the sunrise and sunset. She had been so happy in that siic! Now all those aays were passed. Tiis crude, raw city, with it crowding bou.2< all of wood and tin. its blotting foss. its up- roarious trade winds disturbed and sed- dened her. There was no outlouk for the future. At length, one day, about a weol: after Annixter's arrival in the cily, she was prevailed upon to go for a wak in the park. She went alone, putting on for the first time the liftle Fat of black straw with its puff of white silk her motner bought for her, a pink shirtwaist, her belt of imitation alligator skin, her new skirt of brown cloth and her low shoes, set off with their little steel es. Bhe found a tiny summer house, built in Japanese fashion, around a dimic uve pund, and sat there for a while, ncr hands foldeé in her lap, amused with waich {1"'1 the goldfish, wishing—she knew sot what. Without any warning Annixter sat down beside her., She was too frighten- ed to move. 8he looked at him with wiue at began to fill with tears. “oh, L didn't she said at last, know. “Well,” exclaimed Annixter, “here you are at last. 1've been watching t biamed house till 1 was afiaid the polic man wowd move me on. By the Lord, he suddenly cried, “you're paie. You— you, Hilma, do you feel well? “Yes—] am well,” she faitered. *No, you're not,” be aeciieu. “Iknow better. = You are coming back to Quien Save with me. This piace don’t agree with you. Hilma, what's all the maiier? Why haven't you let me see you & s time? Do you know how things are with me? Your mother told you, didn't sne” Do you know how sorry I am?sDo you know that 1 see now that | made (he mustake of my life there, that time, un- der the long tres 1 found it out the wghy after you went away. I sat ali night on a stone out on tne ranch some- where, and I don’t know exactly what happened, but I've been a different man since then. I see things all difteren: now. Why, I've oniy begun to live since then. 1 know what iove means now, and_instead of being ashamed of it I'm proud of it. 1f 1 never was to see you again 1 would be glad I'd lived through that night, just tue same. 1 just woke up that night. I'd been abso- jutely and compietely selfish up to the moment 1 realized 1 reany iuved you, and now, whether you'll let me marry you or not, I mean to live—I don’t know, in a dinerent way. I've got to llve different. I—well—oh, 1 can’t make you understand, vut just loving you has changed my life all around. ItU's made it easier to ao the straight, clean thing. 1 want to do it— it's fun doing it. Kemember, once I said 1 was proud of being a hard man, a driv- er, of belng glad that peop.e hated me and were atraid of me? Well, since I've loved you I am ashamed of it all. Idon't want to be hard any more, and nobody is going to hate me if 1 can help it. I'm happy, and 1 want other peopie so. I love youl” hi iddenly exciaimed. ‘1 love you, and if you wiil forgive me, and if you will come aown to such a_ beast as I am I want to be to you the best a man can be to a woman, Hiima. Do you understand, littie girl? I want to be your husband.” Hilma looked at the goldfishes through her_tears. “Have you.got anything to say to me, Hilma?" he asked, after a while. “1 don't know what you want me say,” she murmured. “Yes you do,” he insisted, “I've follow- ed you ‘'way up here to hear it. I've wait- ed around in these beastly, draughty pic- nic grounds for over a week to hear You know what I want to hear, Hilma. “Well—I forgive you,” she hazarded. “That will de for a starter,” he an- swered, “but that's not it “T'hen, I don't know what.” “Shall 1 say it for you? She hesitated a long minute, then: “You mightn't say it right,” she re- plied. ““Trust me for that. Shall I say it for you, Hilma?” “1 don’t know what you'll say.” “I'll say what you are thinking of. Shall I say it?” There was a very long pause. A gold- fish rose to the surface of the little pond, with a sharp, rippling sound. The fog drifted overhead. There was nobody about. “No,” said Hilma, at length. “I-I-I can say it for myse. I1—"" All at once she turned to him and put her arms around his neck. “Oh, do you love me she cried. “Is it really true? Do you mean every word of it? And you are sorry and you will be good to me if 1 will be your wife? You will be my dear, dear husband?” The tears sprang to Annixter's eyes. He took her in his arms and held her there for a moment.. Never in his life had he felt so unworthy, so undeserving of this clean, pure girl who forgave him and trusted his spoken word and belleved him to be the good man he could only wish to be. She was so far above him, sc exalted, so noble that he should have bowed his' forehead to her feet, and in- stead, she took him in her arms, believing him to be good. to be her egual. He could think of no words to say. The tears overflowed his eyes and ran down upon his cheeks. She drew away from him and held him a second at grm’s length, looking at him, and he saw that she. too, had been crying. “I think,” he said, ““we are a -couple of to softies.” *No, no,” she insisted. “I want to ery and want you to cry too. Oh, dear, I hayen’t a handkerchief.” “Here, take mine.” They wiped edch other’s eyes like two children and for a long time sat in the deserted little Japanese pleasure house, their arms about each other, talking, taiking, talking. » On the following Saturday they were married in an uptown Presbyterian church, and spent the week of their honeymoon at a small, family hotel on Sutter street. As a matter of course, they saw the sights of the city together. They made the inevitable bridal trip to the Chff House and spent an afternoon in the ewsome and made-to-order beauties of utra’s Gardens; they went through Chinatown, the Palace Hotel, the park museum—where Hilma resoiutely refused to believe in the Egyptian mummy—and they drove out in a hired hack to the Presidio and the Golden Gate. On the sixth day ofs their excursions, Hilma abruptiy declared they had had enough of “playing out,” and must be serious and get to worl This work was nothing less than the buying of the furniture and appointments for the rejuvenated ranch house at Quien Sabe, where they were to live. Annixter had telegraphed to his overseer to have the building repainted, replastered, and reshingied and to empty the rooms of ev- erything but the telephone and safe. He also sent instructions to have thé dimen- sions of each room noted down nndm\he result forwarded to him. It was the ar- rival of . .ese memoranda that had roused Hilma to actlon. Then ensued a most delicious week. Armed with formidable lists, written by Annixter on hotel envelopes, they two descended upon the department stores of the city, the carpet stores, the furniture stores. Right and left they bought and bargained, sending each consignment as soon as purchased to Quien Sabe. Nearly an entire car load of carpets, curtains, kitchen furniture, pictures, fixtures, lamps, straw matting, chairs, and the like were sext down to the ranch, Annixter making a point that their new home. should be entirely equipped by San Fran- cligco dealers. The furnishings of the bedroom and sit- ting-room were left to the very last. For the former, Hilma bought a ‘‘set”” of pure white enamel, three chairs, a washstand and bureau, a marvelous bargain of thirty dollars, discovered by wonderful accident at a “Friday Sale.” The bed was a piece by itself, bought elsewhere, but none the less 2 wonder. It was of brass, very brave and gay, and actually boasted a canopy! They bought it com- plete, just as it stood in the window of the department store, and Hilma was in an ecstacy over its crisp, clean muslin” curtains, spread, and shams. Never was there such a bed, the luxury of a princess, such a bed as she had dreun‘ed about her whole life. 3 Next the appointments of ‘the sitting- room occupied her—since Annixter, him- self, bewildered by this astoniehing dis- Rlly. unable to offer a single suggestion imself, merely approved of all she bought.” In the sitting-room was to be a %lnlllul blue and white paper, cool W matting, set off with white wool rugs, a stand of flowers in the window, a globe of goldfish, rocking chairs, a sewi: machine, and a great, rqund center table of yellow oak whereon should stand a lamp covered with a deep shade of crinkly red tissue paper. On the walls were to hang several pictures—lovely affairs, pho- tographs from life, all properly tinted—of choir boys In robes, with beautiful eyes: pensive young girls in pink gowns, with flowing yellow hair, drooping over golden barps: a colored reproduction of “Rouget de Lisle, Blntlng(g: Marseillaise,” and two “pleces” of wood carving, represent- ing a quail and a wild duck, hung by one leg in the midst6f game bags powder horns,—quite masterpieces, both. At last everything had been bought, all arrangements made, Hima’s trunks P d with her new sses, and the o 1 Bol'z' th rand, by I e’ll go by the overland, ingo.” declared Annixter across the (lgle lo‘?fll wife, at their last meal in the hotel where they had been ltopglnl: “no way trains or locals for us. hey?” “But we reach Bonneville at such an e W hour,” protested Hilma. *‘Five the morning!” “Never _mind,” be declared. “we'll go home in Pullmans, Hilma. I'm not going to have any of those slobs in Bonneville say I didn’t know how to do the thing in style, and we'll have Vacca meet us with the team. No, sir; It is Pullmans or noth- ing. When it comes to buying furniture, 1 don't shine, perhaps, but 1 know what's due my wife.” T He was obdurate, and late one after- noon the couple boarded the transconti- nental (the crack overland flier of the Pacific and Bouthwestlern) at the Oakland mole. OUniy Hiuma's parents were there to say good-by. Annixter knew that Magrnus and Osterman were in the city, but he had laid his plans to eiude them. Magnus, he couid trust to be dignified, but that goat Osierman, one couid never tell what he wou.d do next. He did not propose to start his jouruey home in a shower of rice, Annixter maiched down the line of cars, his hanas incumoered with wicker tele= scope baskets, satchels, and valises, his tickets in his mouth, his hat on wrong side foremost, Hi.ma ana her parents hur- rying on behind him, trying to keep up. Annixter was in a turmdil of nerves lest sometning should go wrong; catching a train was always for him a little crisis. He rushed ahead so_furlously that when he had found his Pu..man he had lost his party. He set down his valises to mark tne place and charged back along the plaiform, waving his arms. “*Come oh,” he ciied, when, at length, he espied the others. ‘“We've no more tume.” He shouldered and urged them forward to where he had set his vauses, only to find one of them gone. Insiantiy he raised an outery. Aha, a fine way to treat passeugers! Theie was P. and 8. W. management for you. He would, by the Lord, he would—but the porter appeared in the vestibule of the car to placate him. He had already taken his valises insid Annixter would uot permit Huma's parents to board the car, declaring that, the train might puli out at any momenl. So he and his wife, following the porter down the narrow passageway by the stateroora, took their piaces,”and, rais- iug the window, leaned out to say good- by to Mr. and Mrs. Tree. Taese latter would not return to Quien Sabe. O.d man Tree had ‘found a business chauce awaltitg him in the matter of suppiying his reiative’'s hotel with dairy pioducts. But Bonneville was not too far trom San Francisco; ‘the separation was by no means final, The porters began taking up the steps that stood by the vestibule of each sieeping car. “Weil, Lave a good time, daughter,” observed her father; *and come up to see us whenever you can.” From beyond the inciosure of the de- pot's reverberating roof came the meas- ured clang of a bell. “I guess we're off!" Good-by, Mrs. Tree.” “Remember your promise, Hilma,” her mother hastened to exclaim, ‘‘to write every Sunday afternoon.” There came a prolonged creaking and groan of straining woud and irgn work, all along the length of the train. They all began to cry their good-bys at eonce. The train stirred, moved forward, and, gatheriLg siow headway, roiled slowly out into the sunlight. Hilma leaned out of the window, and as iong as she could keep her mother in sight waved her hand- kerchief. Then at length she sank back in her seat and looked at her husband. “Well,” she sald. “Well,” echoed Annixter, “happy?"’ for the tears rose in her eyes. She nodded energetically, him bravely. > “You look a little pale,”” he declared, frowning uncasily; “feel well?” “Pretty well, Promptly he was seized with uneasi- ness. “But not all well, hey? Isn't that it? It was true that Hilma had felt a faint tremor of seasickness on the ferry- boat coming from thercity to the Uak- land mole. No doubt a little nausea yet remained with her. But Annixter refused to accept this explanation. He was dis- tressed beyond expression. “Now, you are going to be sick,” he cried, anxiously. “No, no,” she protested, “not a bit,” “But you said you didn't feel very well, Where is it you feel sick?” “1 don't know. I'm not sick. Oh, dear me, why will you bother?” “‘Headache?"" > t the least.” (ou feel tired, then. That's it. No wonder, the way I've rushed you around to-day.” “Dear, I'm not and I'm’ all right. “No, no; 1 can tell, I think we'd best have ‘the Lerth made up and you lie down.” “That would be perfectly ridiculous.” “Well, where is it you teel sick? Show me; put your hand on the place. Want to eat something?” . With elaborate minuteness he cross- questioned her, refusing to let the sub- ject drop, protesting that she had dark circles under her eyes; ‘that she bad grown thinner. o ““Wonder 1f there's a doctor on board?” he murmured, looking uncertainly about the car. - “Let me see your tongue. I know—a little whisky is what you want, that and some pru—" “No, no, no,"” she exclaimed. “I'm well as I ever was in all my life. Look at me. Now, tell me, do 1 look like a sick lady?” He scrutinized her face distressfully. cried Annixter. smiling at tired, and I'm not sick, “Now, don't I look the picture of heaith?” she challenged. “In a way you dv,” he began, “and then again— Hilma beat a tattoo with, her heels on the floor, shutting her fists, the thumbs tucked inside. She closed her eye, shak- ing her head energetically. “I won't listen, 1 won't listen, I won't listen,” she cried. ““But, just the same—" “Gibble—gibble—gibble,” she mocked. “1 won't listen, 1 won't listen.” She put a.hand over his mouth. *“Look, here’s the dining-car waiter and the first call for supper, and your wife is hungry.” They went forward and bad supper in the diner, while the long train, now out upon the main line, settled itself to fts pace, the prolonged, even galiop that it would hold for the better part of the week, spinning out the miles as a cotton- spinner spins thread. 1t was already dark when Antioch wi left behind. Abruptly the sunset ap- peared to wheel in the sky and readjust- ed itself to the right of the track behind Mount Diablo, here visible almost to its base. The train had turned southward. Neroly was passed, then Brentwood, then Byron. In tne gacheriog dusk mountains began to build themseives up on either hand, far off, blocking the horizon. The train shot forward, roaring. Between the mountains the 1and lay level, cut up into farms, ranches. These continually grew larger; growing wheat began to appear, billowing in the wind of the train's pass- age, The mountains grew higher, = the land richer, and by the time the "moon rose the train was well into the norther- Better find out for sure.” § He drew on his trousers and shoes, got into his coat, and ste) d out into the aisle. In the se: hat had been occupied by the porter. the Paliman conductor, his cash goxmnnd car-schedules befors L was checl up his berths, a blue p e iat, ‘.fl: - 3 in?" | “What's the next stop, Captain?’ in- quired Annixter, eo’plnl:p up. “Have we reac Fresno vet?’ “‘Just passed it,” the other responded, looking at Annixter over his spectacles. “What's the next stop?” “‘GGoshen We will be there in about forty-five minutes.” “Fair black night, isn’t it?” g *“Black lr a pocket. Let's see. you're the party in upper and lower 9." Annixter caught at the back of the nearest t, just In time to prevent a fall, and thonductor'a cash box was shunted off the surface of the plush seat and came clanking to the floor. The Pintsch lights overhead vibrated with blinding rapidity in the long, sliding jar that ran through the train from end to end, and the momentum of its speed sud. denly decreasing, all but pjtched the col ductor from his seat. K¥5Geous ear- splitting rasp made itgelf heard from the clamped-down Westinghouse gear under- neath, and Annixter knéw that the wheels had ceased to revolve and that the train :uandxns forward upon the motionless anges. “Hello, hello,” he exclaimed, “what's all p now? “Emergency brakes,” declared the con- ductor, catching up his cash box and thrusting his papers and tickets into it. 'Nouilr‘-_x much; probably a cow on the rack.’ He disappeared, carrying his lantern with him. ¥ But the other passengers, all but the stout gentleman, were awake; heads were uj thrust from out the curtains. and An- nixter, hurrying back to Hilma, was as- sailed by all manner of questions. “What was that “Anything wrong? “What's up, anyvways?”’ Hilma was just waking as pushed the curtain aside. “Oh, 1 was so frightened. What's the matter. dear?” she exclaimed. “I don't know,” he answered. “Only the emergency brakes. Just a cow on the track. T guess. Don’t get scared. It isn’t anything." 3 But with a final shriek of the Westing- house apvliance, the train came to a definite halt. At once the silence was absolute. The ears. still numb with the long-continued roar of whee's and clashing iron, at first refased to register correctly the smaller nojses of the surroundings. Voices came from the other end of the car, strange and unfamiliar, as though heard at a great distance across the water. The stillness of the night outslde was g0 pro-* found that the rain, dripping from the car roof upon the road-bed underneath. was as distinct as the ticking of a clock. “Well, we've sure stopped,’ observed one of the drummers. ““What is it?” asked Hilma again. ‘“‘Are you sure there's nothing wrong?"’ “Sure,” sald Annixter. A Outside, underneath their window. they heard the sourd of hurried footsteps crushing into the clinkers by the side of the ties. hey ssed on. and Annixter heard some one in the distance shout: “Yes, on the other side.” Then the door at the end of their car opened and a brakeman with a red beard ran down the alsle and out upon the plat- form in front. The forward door closed. Everything was quiet again. In the still- ness the fat gentieman’s snores made themselves heard once more. he minutes passed; nothing stirred. There was no sound but the dripping rain. The line of cars lay {mmobilized and inert under (hi night,- ‘One of the drummeérs. having stepped outside on the platform for a loak areund, returned, saying: ““There sure lsn’t any station anywheres about and no §iding. Bet you they have had an accident of some kind.” “Ask the porter.” ‘d. He dopt know.” “Maybe they stopped to take on wood or water, or something.” “Well, they wouldn’t use the emergency brakes for that. would they? 'Why, this “1‘" stopped almost in her own length. Prétty near slung me out the berth. Those were the emergency brakes. I'heard some Annixter one say 80." From tar out toward the front of the train, near the locomotive, came the sharp. incisiye report of a revolver; then ufv‘o rm;re a}m‘oq! mu!;nns&uly; then, after ong interval, a fourth, “8 2 By God, boys, ay, that's shooting. they're shooting. Say, this Js & hold-up. Instantly a white-hot excitement flared from end to end of the car. Incred bly sinister, heard thus in the night, and in the rain, mysterious. fearful, those four pistol shots’ started confusion from out “the senge of security like a ghtened rabbit “himted from -her burrow. Wide- eyed, the passen| “of ‘the car looked into each other's faces. It g-d come to them at )agt, this théy had so often read about Now.they were to see the real thing, now they were to face actua'ity, face this danger of the night, leaping in from out the blackness of the roadside, masked, armed, ready to kill. They were facing it now. They were held up. Hilma sald nothing. only catching An- nixter’s hand, looking squarely into his eyes. 2 "étendy. little girl,"” he” said. “They can’t hurt you. 1 won'’t leave you. By the Lord.” he suddenly exclaimed, his excitement getting the better of him for a moment. “By the Lord, it's a hold-up.” g’he schoolteachers were ir the alsle of the car, in night gown, wrapper, and drenlngl sack, huddled together like nheeg, olding’ on to each other, looking to the men, silently appealing for pro- tectiop. Two of them were weeping. white" to the lips. « *‘Oh, oh, oh, it’s terpible. Oh, if they only won't hurt me,” ’ But the lady with the children looked out from her berth, smiled reassuringly. and said: E “I'm not a bit frightened. They won't do anything to us if we keep quiet. I've my watch and jewelry all ready for them in_my little black bag. see?” r exhibited it to the passengers. Her chi fleten were all awake. They were quiet, looking about them with eager faces, in- terested and amused at the surprise. In his berth the fat gentleman with whis- kers snored profoundly. “Say, T'm going out there,” suddenly declared one of the drummers, flourish- "’fi a mfle: revolver. is friend caught his arm. “Don’t make a fool of yourself, he said. “They won’t come near us,” observed the well-dressed young man; ‘‘they are after the Wells-Fargo box and the reg- istered mail. You won't do any good out Max,"” there. most limits of the valley of the 8an Joa- /_But the other loudly protested. No: he quin. Annixter had engn;ed an_entire sec- tion, and after he and his wife went 1o ~bed had the porter close the upper berth. Hilma sat up in bed to say her prayers, . both hands over her face, and then Kiks- ing Annixter good night went to sleep with the directness of a little child, hoid- ing his hand in both her own. Anrixter, who never could sleep on the train, dozed and tossed and fretted [for hours, consulting his watch and time- table whenever there was a stop; twic he rose to get a drink of ice water, ans between whiles was forever sitting up-in the narrow berth, stretching himself and yawning, murmuring with uncertain rel- evance: “Ob, Lord! O-h-h, Lord!” There were some dozen other passen- gerg In the car—a lady with three chil- dren, a group of schoolteachers, a couple of drummers, a stout g:ntleman with whiskers and a well-dresged young man in ah;;.;:\(,ie ér:\"elir:s cap, wtll:om Annixter had o efol gupper time rea - deé‘st";fargmrlri” i{l t“e la‘renchldln‘ o ut by 9 o'clock all these people were in their berths. Occasionaily, al?ovq the rhythmic rumble of the wheels, Annixter could 'hear one of the lady's children fidgeting and complaining. The stout gentleman snored monotonously in two notes, one a rasping bass, the other a prolonged treble. At intervals a brake- man or the passenger conductor pushed down the aisie between the curtains, his red and white lamp over his arm. Look- ing out into the car, Annixter saw m an end section, where ‘the berths had mnot Guck Chat, dosing: hia et Wit BrAe . g s mou wi pen, his head on his shoulder. gk The hours passed. Midnight c: ‘went. Annixter, checking of the‘?gfl:gld noted thelr passage of esto,” Merced and Madera. Then, after another broken nap, he lost count. He wondered where they were. Had they reached Fresno yet? Raising the window ‘curtain, he made a shade with both hands on either side of his face and llooéudd out. The night wi 3 , clouded over. A fine ral; falling, leaving horizontal streaks n‘;xg.ho glass of the outside window. Only the faintest gray blur indicated the sky. =Ey- erything else was impenetrabie blackness, 1 think sure we must have - passed Fresno,” he muttered. He looked at his watch. It was about half-past three. *“If we have passed Fresno,” he said to him- self. “I'd belter wake the little girl pretty soon. She'll need about an hour to dress. was going out. He didn't bunkoed without a fight. coward. &gopole,’ to be e wasn't any ““Well, J’ou don’t go. tha all,” said his friend, angrily. ‘‘There's women and children |“ this car. You ain’t going to draw the fire here.” ‘“Well, that's to be thought of," sald the other, allowirig himeelf to be pacified, but still holding his pistol. “Don’t let him open that window!" cried Annixter sharply from his place by Hil- ma’s side, for the drummer had made as if to open the sash of one of the sectioris that had not been made up. “Bure, that's right." eald the others. “Don’t open any windows. Keep your head in. You'll get us all shot if “you aren’t careful. However, the drummer had got the window up and had leaned jul before the others could intérfere and draw him away. “Euy‘ by jove,” he shouted. as he turn- ed back to the car. ‘“‘Our engine’s gone. ‘We're standing on a curve and you can see the end of the train. She's gone, I tell you. Well, look for yourself."” In spite of their precaytions one after ok e, So gmreat hnk becn thg de- | mand for the firat installment of he Octopus.” published in The Sunday Call of November 9, that only a few copies of that edition remain. If yoa missed the first. numbe= of thix great story apply for The Sau- day Call of .that date at once or you will be too late. “The Ogtopus’ was written by the late Frank Norris, It Is Norris® st Mr. justly been consider- ed the nearest approach to the | “great American novel” ever writte: 1t portrays Ill(. and scenes in California more! vividly than any other book exta 1t is pow runming 'in The Sunday Call. 4 No extre charge! And by thin means you read the best novel of the day—FREE! i x ! : : : another, his friends looked out. Sure enough, the train was without a locomo- tive. 4 “They’ve done it so we can’t get away,” vociferated the drummer with the pistol. *“Now, by jiminy Christmas, theéy'll come through the cars and stand us up. They'll bl: In? here in a minute. Lord! What was that?” ¥rom far away up the track, apparent- ly some half-mile ahead of the train, came the sound of a heavy explosion. The windows of the car vibrated with it. “Shooting again.” “That isn't shooting!” exclaimed An- nixter. “They've pulied the express and mail car on ahead with the engine and now they are dynamiting her ope “That must be it. Yes, sure, tha what they are doing.” ‘The forward door of the car opened and closed, and the schoolteachers shrieked and cowered. The drumnier with the re- voiver fs about, his eyes bulging. However, it was only the train conduc- tor, hatless, his lantern in his hand. He was soaked with rain. He appeared in the aisle. “ls there a doctor in this car?’ he asked. Promptly the passengers surrounded him, voluble with questions. But he was in a bad temper. “1 don't know anything mare than you,” he shouted angrily. “It was a hold- P 1 guess you know that, don't you? Well, what more do you want to know? 1 amn't got time to fool argund. They cnt off vur express car and have cracked it open, and ‘they shot one of our train crew— Just that's all, and I want a doctor,” l:l;“lhey shoot him—kiil him, do you 1s he hurt bad?” Did the men get away?” ‘‘Oh, shut up, will you all?” exclaimed the conductor. “What do I know? Is there a doctor in this car, that's what I want to know.” 3 ‘The weli-dressed young man -stepped forward. “4'm a doctor,” he said. ‘“Well, come algng, then,” returned the conductor in a suriy voice, “‘and the pas- sengers in this car,” he added, turning back at the door and nodding his head menacingly, “will go back to bed and siay there. It's all over, and there’s nothing to see.” He went out, followed by the young doctor. ‘Lhen ensued an interminable period of silence. The entire train seemed desert- ed. Helpless, bereft ui Its engiue, a huge- aecapliated monsier it lay, half-way around a curve, rained upon, abandoned. There was more fear in this last condi- tion of aflairs, more terror in the idea of this proionged line of sieepers, with their nickeied fitungs, their plate giass; their uphoustery, vestibules and the like, load- ed aown with geuple, lost and torgotten in the night and the rain, than there had been when the aciual danger threatened. What was to become of them now? ‘Who was there to heip them? Their en- gine was gone; they were helpless. What next was to happen? Nobody ¢ame near the car. Even the porter had disappeared. The walit seem- ed endless, and the persistent snoring of the - whiskered gentleman rasped the n itke the scrape of a file. ‘Well, how long are we going to stick here now?” began one of the drummers. “Wonder if they hurt the engine with their dynamite?” “‘Oh, | know they will come through the car and rob us,” walled the schoolteach- ers. ‘The lady with the little children went back to bed, and Annixter, assured that the trouble was over, did likewise. But nobody slept. From berth to berth came the sound ofgsuppressed voices, talking it all over, torniulaung conjectures. Cer- tain points seemed to be settied upon, no one knew how, as indisputable. Tne high- waymen had been four in number and had stopped the train by pulling the beil- cord. A brakeman hgd attempted to in- terfere, and had been shot. The robbers had been on the train all the way from 8an Francisco. The drummer 1 amed Max remembered - to have seen four * clous-looking characiers” in the smoking car at Lathrop; and d intended to speak to the conductor about them. This drummer had been in a hold-up before, and told the story of it over and over again. At last, after what seemed to have been an hour’s deiay, and when the dawn had aready began to show in the east, the locomotive backed on to the train again with a reverberating jar that ran from car to car. At the joiting the schoolteach- ers screamed in chorus, and the whisher- ed gentleman stopped snoring and thrust his head from his curtains, blinking at the Pintsch lights. 1t appeared that he was an Englishman. 1 say,” he atked of the drummer named Ma say, my friend, what place is this The others roared with derision. “We were.held up, sir, that's what we were. We were held up, and you slept through it all. You missed the show cof Y%he ‘seatieman fxed: th 'he gentleman fixed the group with a prolonged gaze. He sald n‘e‘:rervh wora, but littie by little he was convinced that the drummers told the truth. All at opce he grew wrathful, his faca purpling. He withdrew his head angrily, gut(anin‘ his curtains together in a fury. The cause of his rage was inexplicable, but they could hear him resettling himself upon his pillows with exasperated moyements of his head and shoulders. In a few mo- ments the deep bass and shrill treble of his snoring once more sounded ‘through the tfr. fi t last the train got under way again, wfih‘ nseless w1tnlnx blasts o't {he‘ en- gine's whistle. In a few moments it was tearing away through the dawn at a won- derful speed, rocking around curves, roar- Ini across culverts, making up time. nd all the rest of that strange night the passengers, sitting up in their unmade beds, in the swaying car, lighted by a strange mingling of pallid dawn “and trembiing Pints lights, rushing at break-neck speed throi the misty rain, were oppressed by a on of figures of terror, far behind them in tite night they had left, muk&!. armed, galloping to- ward the mountains, pistol in hand, the booty bound to the saddle bow, galloping, galloping on, sending a thrill of fear th{nugh all the country side. 'he young doctor returned. He sat down in the smoking-room, llghung‘n cigarette, and Annixter and the drummers pressed around him to know the story of the e man n dead” b k5 man is dead,” he declared; ‘“the QH& was _shot brakeman. through lungs twice. They think the fel f:w %’J ::I':g’ with about five thousand in-gold fellow? W‘lm‘t there four of L only one. And say, let me tell you, he had his nerve with him. It seems he was on the roof of the express car all the time, and xclng as fast We were, he jumped from the rocf of the car down on to the coal on the engine's tender, and crawled over that and hzlg up the men in the cab with his gn. took their guns from 'em and made 'em stop the train. Even ordered 'em io use the emergeacy gear, Seems he knew all about it. Then he went tack aind uncoupled the express car himsclf. While he was doing this, a brakeman—you rx;gember that brakeman that came through here once or twice— had a red mustache.” Sk Wi« “Sure. Well, as soon as the train stoj ped, ~this brakeman K\less'ed -omethh?y; was wrong and ran up, saw the fellow cutting off the express car and took a couple of shots at him, and the fireman 5?11 the feliow didn't even take his hand oft the couglin;-pln; Just turned around as cool a8 how-do-vou-do and nailed the brakeman right there. They weren't five feet apart n they began shooting. The brakeman had come on him unexpected, had ng dea he was so close.” . “Apd the express messenger, '"m‘g’;l N 8! Ssenge all this “‘Well, he is best. Jumped out with his répeating shot-gun, but the fellow had him covered before he could turn around. Held him up and took his gun awa. him. Fay, jou know 1 call that just the same. One man standing up a whole train-load, like that, Then, as soon as he'd cut the expfess car off, he made the engineer run her up the u:ucg about haif a mile to a road crossing. where ge ted. m’n-z do you think of € it all figured out _got there na- t th w’aflifirm box. He took five thousand In gold coin: :R:fi;fipg;. :':};'u it was r?’nllmg' money 0] were sending down to Bakersfield to pay off with. It was in a bag. never - tous the -r malil, nor a whole wad of greenbacks that were in the safe, but fiut ‘took the coin, got on his horse. and lit out. he en- gineer says he went to the east'ard.” . He got away, did he?” ‘Yes, but they think they'll get him. He wore a gnfl of mask, but the b: man recognized him m"flh his” anté-mortem lutesunt. ¢ br - man said the fellow had a grudge against the road. He was a 3lfl:bn d employe, and Jives near Bonneville.” ¥ xqurk‘e' by the Lord!” exclaimed An- to;mh“" the name,” said the young doc- y from nerve, mited the safe and When the train arrived at Bonneville, forty minutes behind time, it landed An- nixter and Hilma the midst of the very thing they most wished to avoid—an enor- mous crowd. The news that the overland had been held up thirty miles south of Fresno, a brakeman killed and the safe looted, and that Dyke alone was re- :gomlble for the night's work. had been wired on ahead from Fowler, the train conductor_ throwing the dispatch to the station agent from the flying train. Before the train had come to a siand- still under the arched roof of the Bonne- ville depot, it was all but taken by as- sault. Annixter, with Huma on his arm, had almost to fight his way out of the car. The depot was black with people. S. Behrman was there, Delaney, Cyrus Rug- gles, the tawn marshal, the mayor. Gen- slinger, his hat on ‘the back of his head, ranged the train from cab to rear-lights, note book in hand, interviewing. question- ing, collecting facts for his extra. As Annixter descended finally to the plat- form, the editor, alert as a black-and-tan terrier, his thin, osseous hands quivering with eagerness, his brown, dry face work- ing with excitement, caught his elbow. ““Can 1 have your version of the af- falr, Mr. Annixter?” Annixter turned on him abruptly. ““Yes!" he exclaimed fiercely. ““You and your gang drove Dyke from his job be- cause he wouldn’t work for starvation wages. Then you raiSed freight rates on him and robbed him of ail he had. You ruined him and drove him to fi'' “'ms 'f up with Caraher’s whisky. He's only taken back wnat you pluwuereu wm oi. and now you're going to hound him over the State, hunt him down like a wild animal, and bring him to the gallows at San Quentin. Thgt's my version of the affair, Mister Genslinger, but it's worth your subsidy from the P. and S. W. to print it.” There was a murmer of approval from the crowd that stood around, and Gen- slinger, with an angry shrug of one shoulder, took himself away. At length, Annixter brought through the crowd to where young Vacca was waiting with the team. owever, they could not at once start for the ranch, Annixter wishing to ask some questions at the freight office about a final consign- ment of chairs. It was nearly eleven o'clock before they could start home. But to gain the upper road to Quien Sabe, it was necessary to traverse ail of Main street, ~unning through the heart of Bon- neville, The entire town seemed to be upon the sidewalks. By now the rain was over and the sun shining. The story of the hold-up—the work of a man whom every one knew and liked—was in every mouth. How had Dyke come to do it? Who would have believed it of him? Think of his poor mother and the little tad. Well, after all, he was not so much to blame; the railroad people had brought it on themselves. But he had shot a man to death. Ah, that was a serious business. Good-natured, big, broad-shouldered, jovial Dyke, the man they knew, with whom they had shaken hands only yes- terday, yes, and drank with him. He had shot a man, killed him, had stood there in the dark and in the rain while they were asleep in their beds, and had Kkilled a man. Now where was, he? Instinctively eyes were turnedweastward, over the tops of the houses, or down vistas of side streets to where the foothills of the mountains rose dim and vast over the edge of the valley. He was in among them: somewhere in all that pile of blue crests and purple canyons he was hidden away. Now for weeks of search- ing, false alarms. clews. trailings, watch- ings, all the thrill and heart-bursting ex- citement of a man-hunt.. Would he get away? Hardly a man on the sidewaiks ?(l the town that day who did not hope for Hilma As Annixter’s team trotted through the central portion of the town, young Vacca pointed to a denser and larger crowd around the rear entrance of the City Hall Fully twenty saddle horses were tied to the iron rail underneath the scant. half- grown trees near by, and as Annixter and Hilma drove by, the crowd parted and a dozen men with- revolvers on their hips pushed their way to the curbstone. and, mounting their horses, rode away at a galiop. “It’s the posse,” said young Vacca. Outside the town limits the ground was level. There was nothing to obstruct the view. and to the north. in the direction of Osterman’s ranch. Vacca made out another party of horsemen, galloping eastward, and beyond these still another. “They're the other posses,” he an- nounced. “That further one is Archie Moore's. He's the sheriff. He came down from Visalia on a special engine this morning.”" ‘When the team turned into the drive- way to the ranch house. Hilma uttered a little cry, clasping her hands joyfully The house was one glitter of new white paint, the driveway, had been freshl raveled, the flowekbeds replenished, rs Vacca and her daughter. who had been busy putting on the finishing t:uv_hea, came to the door to welcome them. “What’s this case here?” asked Annix- ter, when, after he!ping his wife from the carry-all, his eye fell upon a wooden box of some three by flve feet that stood on l"‘: lbo!ch and bore the red Wells-Fargo abel. “It came here Jast night, addressed to you, sir,” exclaimed Mrs. Vacca. "“We were sure it wasn't any of your furniture, so we didn’t open it” “Oh, maybe it's a wedding present,” ex- claimed Hilma, her eyes sparkling. ““Well, maybe it is,” returned her hus- band, “Here, m'son, help me in with this.” Annixter and young Vacca bore the case into- the sitting-room of the house, and Annixter, Lammer in hand, attacked it vigorously. Vacca discreetly withdrew on signal from his mother, closing the door after him. Annixter and his wife were left alone. p *“Oh, hurry, hurry,” cried Hilma, danc- ing_around him. “1 want to see what it is. Who do you suppose could have semt it to us? And s0_heavy, too. What do you think it can ‘Annixter put the claw of the hammer underneath the edge of the board top and wrenched with all his might. The boards nad been clamped together by a trans- verse bar and the whole top of the box came a:ny in one piece. A layer of ex- celsior was disclosed, and on it a letter addressed by typewriter to Apnixter. It bore the trade-mark of a business firm of Los Angeles. Annixter glanced at this and promptly caught it up before Hilma could see, with an exclamation of intelli- gence. \ “Oh, 1 know what this is,”” he observed, carelessly trying to restrain her busy h:;! s. “llt lllnl.(l anything. Just some ma- chinery. Le £0. Bu(ryllready she had pulled away the excelsior. Underneath, in temporary racks, we’l;a two dozen Winchester re- ing rifles. pe"évh;—wnat—whl(—-" murmured Hima lankly. PR, 1 told you mot to mind,” said Annixter. “It isn't anything. Let's look through the rooms.” 2 “But you said you knew what it was, she protested, bewildered “You wanted to malke beifeve it was machinery.. Are you keeping anything from me? Tell me What it means. Oh, why are you getting —these?” he caught his arm, looking with in- tense eagerness into his face. She half understood already. Annixter saw that. “Well,” he said, lamely, “you know— it may not come to anything at all. but you know—well. this lcague of ours— suppose the rallroad tries to jump Quien Sabe or Los Muertgs or any of the other ranches—we made up our minds—the e—that we wouldn’t let- it. leaguers That's all. “And I thought,” cried Hilma, draw- ing back feartully ~from the case of rifles, 1 thought it was a wedding present And that was their home-coming, the end of their bridal trip. Through the terror of the night, echoing with pistol shots, through that scene of robbery and murder, into this atmosphere of aarms, a_man-hunt organizing, armed horsemen silhouetted against the RMorizonms, cases of rifles where wedding presents should have been, Anpixter brought his young wife to be mistress of a home he might at any moment be célled upon to defend with his life. ohate S The days passed. Soon a week gone by, Magnus Derrick and Ostermeg returned from the. city without any defi- nite idea as to the corporation's plans. Lyman had been reticent. He knew rothing as to the progress of t land cases in Washington. ere was no news. The eXecutive committee of the league held a perfunctory meeting at Muertés at which nothing but routine busi) s was transacted. A scheme put forward by Osterman for a con e“e with the rairoad mana; feil through because of the refusal of the company to treat with the ranchers upon lm‘m" basis than that of the ing. It was impossible to learn Wwrether or not the company considered &::“nudueatg:bg'uli’m Sabe and. the ranches e cove: ctla‘el the:"n!l ul:m:ul. drlp LT eanwhile there was ne decrea the excitement that Dyke's gxold-u? h::l‘ set fiou all over the county. Day after day it was the one topic of convsrsation at street corners, at cross-roads, over dinner tables, in office, bank and store. S. Behrman placarded the town with a notice of %000 reward for the ex-em- gineer's capture, deaa or aive, and the express company supplemented tnis by another offer of an equal amount. The country was thick with parties of horse- men, armed with rifles and revoivers, recruited from Visala, Goshen and the few rallroad sympathizers arvund Bonne- ville and Guadalajara. One after another of these reiurned, empty handed, co ered with aust and iaud, tner horses exhausted, 10 be met and passcd oy fresh pusses starting out to continue tue pur- sust. Tue Sheriff of Santa Clara County sent down his ELloodhounds from San Jose—small, harmless-.0oa:ng dogs. with a terriic bay—to he:p in_the chase. Re- porters from the San Fraaciscu papers sppeared, interviewing every one, some- lLimes even accompanying ne searching banus. Horse hoofs clattered over the reads at night; belis were rung; the Mer- CUTy issuew extra after exira; the blood- hounas bayea; sun butts ciashed on the asphalt pavemenis of Bonneville: acci= dental discharges of revo.vers brought the whole tuwn into tne street; farm- hands ca:led to each other across the fences of ranch divisions—in a word, the countryside was in an uproar. Ana all to no effect. ‘the hoof marks of Dyhe's horse had been traced in the mud of the rvad fto within a quarter of a mile of the foothils and there irretrievably lost. Three days after the hold-up a sheepherder was found who had seen the higiwayman on a ridge ir. the higher mouniain, to the northeast or Taurusa. And that was absolutely all. Kumors were thick, promising ciews were discovered, new trails were taken up, but nothing transpired to bring the pursuers ana pursued any closer together. Then, after ten days of strain, public interes began to flag. It was believed that Dy . a - cceeued in getting away. If th', was true, he had gone to the southward, atter gaining the mountains, and it would be his intention to work out of the range scmewhere near the southern part of the San Joaquin, near Bakersfield. Thus, the sheriffs, marshals and deputies decided. They had humeéd too many criminals in these mountains before not to know the usual courses taken. In time Dyke must cCme out of the mountains to get water and provisions. But this time passed, and from nd@ one of the watched points came any word of his appearance. At last the posses began to disband. Little by ittle the pursuit was given up. Only S. Behrman npersisted. He had made up his mind to bring Dyke in. He succeeded in arousing tne same de- gree of determination in Delaney—by now a_trusted aid of the rallroad—and of his ¢wn cousin, a real estate broker named Christian, who knew the mountains and had once been marshal of Visalia in the old stock-raising days. These two went intc the Sierras, accompanied by twa hired deputies, and carrying with them a month’s provisions and two of the blood- hounds loaned by the Santa Clara sheriff. On a certain undar. a few days after the departure of Christian and Delaney, Annixter, who had been reading “David Copperfield” in his hammock on the porch of the ranch house, put down the book and went to Hilma, who was helping Louisa Vacca set the table for dinner. He found her in the dining-room, her hands full of gold-bordered china plates, only used.on special occasions and which Louisa was forbidden to touch. His wife was more than ordinarily pretty that day. .She wore a dress of flowered organdie over pink sateem, witn pink ribbons about her waist and neck, ard on her slim feet the low shoes al- ways affected, with her smart bright, bright buckles. Her thick, brown, sweet- smeiling hair was heaped high upon ner bead and set off with a_bow of black vel- vet. and underneath the shadow of jts coils her wide-open eyes. rimmed with ihe thm, black-line of her lashes, shone continually, reflecting the sunlight. Mar- riage had_enly accentuated the beautiful maturity of Hilma's figure—now no longer precocicus—defining the single, deep swell irom her throat to her waist, the strong. fine amplitude of her hips, the sweer feminine undulation of her neck and snoulders. Her cheeks were pink with heglth and her large round arms carried the piled-up dishes with never a tremor. Annixter, observant enough where his wife was concerned, noted how the re- flection of the white china set a glow of pale light underneath her chin. ““Hilma,” he said, ‘ve been wondering lately about things. We're so blamed happy ourselves it won't do for us to for- get about other people who are down, will ;h;fll:llfeht{chan!gen:xur luck. And I'm just 3 or; y. tc g neere get that way, too. It's my s wife looked up at him joyfully. was the new Annixter, cenjafiny. e o “In all this hullabaloo about Dyke,” he went on, “there’s somerone nobody ain't thought about at all. That's Mrs. Dyke —and_the little tad. I wouldn't be sur- prised if they were in a hole over there. Vhat do_you say we drive over to the bop ranch after di 2 bop rench atter dinner and ses If she Hilma put down the plates and came around the table and kissed him without a:ord, $ soon as their dinner was over An- nixter had the carry-all hitched up aAng. dispensing with young Vacca, drove over to the hop ranch with Hilma. Hilma could not keep back the tears as they passed through the lamentable desolation of the withered, brown vines, symbols of perished hopes and abandoned effort, and Annixter swore between his, le’;(h. hough the wheels of the carry-all grat- ed loudly on the roadway in front of the house, nobody came to the door nor I - ed from the windows. The place see‘:l?}d tenantless. infinitely lonely, infinitely sad. Annixter tied the team, and with Hilma approached the wide-open door, scuffling and tramping on the porch to attract at- tention. Nobcdy stirred. A Sunday still- ness pervaded the place. Outside the withered hop leaves rustled like dry pa- per in the breeze. The quiet was omin- ous. They peered into the front room from the "doorway, Hilma holding her husband’s hand. “Mrs. Dvke was there, She sat at the table in the middle of the room, her head, with its white hair, down upon her arfn. A clutter of unwashed dishes were strewed over the red and white tablecloth. The unkempt room, once a marvel of neatness, had not been cleaned for days. Newspapers, Gensling- er's extras and copies of San Francisco and Los Angeles dailles, were scattered all over the poom. On the table itself were crumpled vellow telegrams, a dozen of them. a score of them, blowing about in the draught from the door. And in the midst of all this disarray, surrounded by the published accounts of her son's crime, the telegraphed answers to her pit. iful appeals for tidings fluttering about her head, the highwayman's mother, Wworn out. abandoned and forgotten, slept ;t:‘x;unugh the stiliness of the Sunday after- Neither Hilma nor Annixtes - ot their interview with Mrs, Dyke ttl?:: [ us‘uidnel;u‘lx); waking. she had caught er, S e . and at once exclaimed ;_ls th?re‘ any news?"” or a long time afterward nothing coul be got from her. She was numb‘m afl other issues than the one auestion of id not answe: questions nor reply to their offers of sa. sistance. Hilma and Annixter conferred together without lowering their voices, at her very elbow, while she lpoked vacant- Iy at the floor, drawing one hand over the other in a persistent, maniacal ges- ture. From time to time she would start suddenly from her chair, her eyes wide, and as if all at once realizing Annixter's presence would ery out: "lvuvhthere anv news ~Where is Sidney, Mrs. Dyke?” asked Hilma for the fourth time. “Is Is she taken care of?" e “Here's the last telegram,” sald Mrs. Dyke, in a loud, monotonous voice. “See, it says there is no news. He didn't do it she moaned, rocklng herself back and forth, dmw)nfi one hand over the other; “he didn’t do it, he didn’t do it, he didn’t do it. I don’t kiiow where he is.” When at last she came to herself it was with a flood of tears. . Hilma p around the poor, old woman, she bow- ed herself again upon the table, sobbing and weeping. “Oh. my son, my son,” she cried, “my own boy, my only son! If I could have died for you to have prevented this. I remember him when he was little. Such a splendid little fellow, so brave, so lov- ing, with never an unkind thought, never a mean action. So it 11 his life. We were never apart. It was always ‘dear little son’ and'‘dear mammy' between us —never once was he unkind, and he loved me and was the gentlest son to me. And he was a man. He is now, he is now. They don’t understand him. They are nat even sure that he did this. He never meant it. They don't know my son. Why, he wouldn't have hurt a kitten. E""'!,"“" loved him. He w: 2 it. hey | hounded wouldn't let him alone. right in his mind. They hounded him to f.” she cried flercely; “they hounded him to it. They drove him and goaded him till he couldn't stand it any longer, and now they mean to kill him for turning om them. They are hunting him with : night after night I have stood on mh and heard the dogs far oft. y are tracking my boy with Mk