The evening world. Newspaper, April 22, 1914, Page 19

(Copyright, 1014, wy J. B. Lippincott 0o,) SYNOPSIS OF PRECEDING CHAPTERS, Galbraith grows * fe Me, Seat thy Tove, ule torn “on the’ St a ture, rhe foreman of manager of the CHAPTER V. (Continued.) Flight. |AN remembered her now. It f was the girl who had rid- bitae’ | den beside Ben Evans that ee firet day in Hopedale. Frits Poth had said her name was Blakely—Edith Blakely. “But I don’t care if he does come, now that I am not dependent upon htm for the means of getting away,” Nan replied defiantly. Edith glanced nervously toward the mesa. be I don't want him to see me here—hurry, please So Edith Blakely w: fraid of the Hon. “Hank” Spiser? Nan pondered this wonderingly as she quickly did an ehe was bid. She noticed that it was not until they were out of the valley of the Esmeraldas and well 1 ond on a dim trail which branched m the main road, that the girl ceased to glance fearfully over her ehoulder. “I came ae soon as I could,” she sald, “but dad wasn’t home when I get message from Ben and | had bt these horwes off the range my- “You can't imagine what tre. Mendous favor you've done me," said Nan gratefully as they galloped aide by side. {t's nothing at all—just so long as Spiser doesn't find it out.” ‘Again Nan wondered why she care, but did not ask because the girl was adding in a half-apolo- tor me: “You-all won't fi much of a plage, but ma said ‘ad have dinner ready, and we can fix you up some- he “You can believe," Nan replied grimly, “that I am not in @ mood to be critical The dismal bay of hounds, the shrill yip of many mongrel kiyis, told them they were nearing the Blakely home, which was hidden in the tall torneo of the Longhorn bosque, less than a mile from the Rio Grande. They came abruptly into a clearing where a log ho and y: sed in a stockade of upright With the barking of the dog: dren of every age and size and stage of dress and undress came tumbling through the doors and from the win- dows, as could see in spaces be- tween the poles. “Where's ma unfastened the st swung it open. “Isn't Clytle? Clytie rested one bare foot on the instep of the other and giggled. Nope. She went a couple of miles down the road to borry @ little salt from them campers.” A look of weariness succeeded an- noyance in Edith's face. “Go inside,” said Edith to Nan and Mrs. Gallagher, “I'll soon have dinner ked Edith as she ckade gate and she home, “Rest yoah hat and take the rockin’ At said the long-legged Clytio hospitably to Nan she lifted a dog by the acruf of ita neck from the cushioned seat and threw tt casually out the door. Another dog was slumbering in the ashes of the fireplace, the chimney of which leaned like the Tower of Pisa. Two pullets regarded Nan in- quiringly from the top of a disman- fled sewing-machine, while the floor Ses Ittered with the immortal works of Bertha M. Clay and the daubing ef mud which had dropped in chunks from between the lo Nan was all but surrounded by tow-headed, barefooted Blakelys star- ing at her with all their pale-blue eyes as she sat down in the d nated rocking-chair. Leaning back to fan herself with her hat, the chair legs came out of the rock The accident occasioned much ment. “Ma's goin’ to fix that some time when she kin git around to it,” Cly- tle clapped both hands over her mouth and siggied. With the renewed barking of the dogs and the slamming of the stock. ade gate, the fascinated circle ru: pell-mell through the door to swarm over a lank, spiritiess figure in a slat eunbonnet. “Ma, where you been? ery! ; ‘Ma, ain't you ever goin’ to git us nything to eat » My lands, don’t you children ever aim to give me a minute's peace or T'm hun- ward the hous “Howdy!” She smiled amiably at Nan and sat down on the doorste; to retwist a smal! knob of ginger. col git m “Luna, git ma a drink of water.” “Carmencita, git ma a drink water.” ‘The request was passed down the line until it reached Undine, who finally came toddling with the water splashing in a gourd. Edith’s face clouded when she re- turned from putting the horses away to find her mother fanning herself languidly on the doorstep. “We're nearly starved, shortly. ot reckon you be, honey, and I aimed to be back, but I fell in with kind of a gypsy feller down there at them campers and he tole all our for- tunes. 'Ne' oot the ire. Blakely sighed resignedly. “Clytie, git ma an urperntul of of ma," she mind that now; we'd better a git ma an urpernful of the woodpile be- She goss you st in grave and Riad ast -nicee hate coseatenenaet “Wait a minute, honey, till I tell you about yorh fortune.” Edith lingered impatiently. “That gypsy said, Edie, that immejit ger of losin’ yoah beau. sat drawled solemnly, “that another what was a stranger to you, was comin’ between you, and you'd only git him out'n her clutches by strat m. Edith tomsed her head and went on r way for chips, “You don't believe it, but I've warned you,” declared Mra. Blakely. ‘But Clytie, here’—she rambled on— is goin’ to ketch some rich feller and marry young. Not too young, taeeee honey, promise me that.” I sil, "m goin’ to fall heir to a large fortune. Must be yoah pa's brother what cans aigs up in Wichita, Edie.” Mrs. Blakely rose slowly, in sec- tions as it seemed, and followed Edith into the kitchen, where ¢' rattle of the ve told of prepara. tions for the tardy dinner. Bedlam broke loose with the wan- ing of the temporary shyness of the little Blakelys. Some now beat upon the side of the house with clubs, jarring down the littie that remained of the chinking. They yelled, they sang, they quarrelled, and there was & sufficient number to keep at least one stiff fight going all the time. They tried to bridle and ride the rooster, they threw handfuls of dust in each other's hair and rocks at each other's heads. The files swarmed and the dogs contributed their share to the din. The thought of spending the night in the squalor of this shiftiess Tex- is home filled Nan with apprehension. It was something for which to be thankful, she said to herself, with &@ faint smile, that the “prep” broth- er could not see her in her present surroundings. And Bob! How he would chortle! No, on second thought, she did not believe that he would. Mrs. Gallagher, squatting on her heels on the shady bide of t! ouRe, was not nearly so indifferent to the discomforts of the Blakely home with its riotous little Blakelys.as she ap- peared, for she found an opportunity to say to Nan: “I think it is better that we ride to Las Rubertas—seven miles—be- cause here, senorita’—she rolled her eyes with something of droll humor in their depths—"there are too many ninos. You will not sleep very well, perhaps. “I am afraid it will be rather dreadful,” Nan admitted. “But where would we go in Las Ru- bertas?” “To the Dona Luiza Montejo; she will let have one-half of di Mrs. Gallagher shrugged her shoulders; that was a small matter, it seemed. “It shall be as you say,” said Nan, for she already had read Nking and h loyalty in her strange protector's eyes. A_yell from the dooryard. “Ma, I'm goin’ to bust Undine's head tn if you don't gimme somethin’ to eat!” One of the Misses Bi Urandished a barrel “Don't do nothin’ Mrs. Blakely reprovingly; ladylike and, besides, grub’ She called cordially to Nan: and git it!" The hungry horde sniffing outside the kitchen door made a rush for the chairs, benches and boxes ranged along the tabl “Where's your manners, children?” inquired Mrs. Blakely placidly, they pushed and fought. “Outdoors! ha! ha! The youthful wit was jerked from q chair and Mrs. Blakely nodded at ‘an, “Slide in thar, and,” she urged hu- morously, ‘jest grab a root and pull.” A monument of pale soda biscuits in the contre of the table faded even as Nan looked, while eager hands, each gripping a fork, reached for the plat- ter of salt pork swimming in (te own grease, Mrs, Blakely circulated with a huge tin coffee pot, from which she poured a feeble beverage that might as easily have been ten as coffee. “Charlie, my lamb," chided Mrs. Blakely in gentle forbearance, “‘don't put yoah knee on the table. If you- all kain't retcb what you want ast for le “Come “Who'd hear mo?" inquired Charles, and with some reason. “Looks like yooh pa would git around to his meals on time once in a while!” Mrs. Blakely shuffled to the door, “Puts me behind so with my work when--here he is now. Frederick, aidge over and make @ place for pa. The uproar drowned the jangle of spurs, but shortly a man, lean and stooped from, much riding, bent his head to come through the doorway. Shrieks greeted him; {t was obvi- ous that Blakely was popular with his family. He nodded to Nan with a pleas- ant though slightly inquiring look father, eyes and her es feminine duplicates of his; they were stamped, too, with something of the same uncomplaining patience, She was as unlike her vapid, weak- chinned mother as two persons could be. ‘Tho red-haired baby in his home- made high-chair suddenly threw him- self back and let out @ yell. His mouth, which was a slit when closed, now looked quite square, and his feet beat a tattoo under the table. ““Lasses! ‘lasses! Want ‘lasses!" Mra. Blakely looked at him fondly. “Bless 'm heart 'm want lasses, 'm shall have ‘lasses! Clytie, git ma the sorghum.” ‘The roaring infant did not subside until Edith took a huge gla: jug from the cupboard down beside him. Then layii hand upon her father's shoul looked searchingly in his fac asked: “What's gone What's happened He hesitated a moment before re- plying. “John Aker's house was blown up last night.” In the first silence of wrong to-day, dad? onishment aing ‘k stock to the L.X e - pomp i Nei, A stick of dynamite under one corner did it; it's @ wreck to-day.” Mrs. Blakely, who was barely vis- ible through a cloud of smoke from burning pork, began to asniffle. “Ww 1 will be next, you mark my “Don't want to be blowed up, pa!" A chorus of minor wails started. “Hush"—turning to Nan in explan- ation—“he was ishbor of ours in Texas. and we wagoned here to- gether. Spiser sent us both word not to settle, but we settled just the same and of us got a@ little bunch of cattle togeth For some reason he’s offered to buy me out, at his own price, but he aims to scare John out of the country, this {s the start.” Blakely’s voice was bitter. “Now, Charlie, why don’t you take Spiser's offer up?" Sere, Blakely ad- vanced, pleading! with a long- handled spoon. ‘e-ull have been ere two year and I'm gittin’ rest- leas. Let's hitch up the ol’ white team and wagon it up into Arkan- saw. I'm pinin’ to travel,” declared Mrs, Blakely plaintively, “to see the world agin—and Arkansaw wp l'm not,” Blakely replied grimly. ve had enough malaria to hold me for a while—and wagonin’ too.” One does not start the water from @ faucet with more ease than Mrs. Blakely turned the tears, “Now, Charli ‘she settled into her hips an attitude of despair— “you'll go and git yoahself killed off, then I'll nuve to take in washin’ or put the children in the poabhouse end go on the stage.” “Don't you put me in the poab- house, or I'll baste Undine over the haid. Mrs. Blakely turned wet eyes upon her pring. “Don't do nothin’ like that, my lamb. Clytie, git ma @ handker- chief." “Regina, git ma"—~ “Undine, band ma that urpern off the chair.’ Mrs. Blakely buried her face in the apron nd sympathetic bellow ar ‘a bellow so loud that no one beard the rattle of wheels and the subsequent click of heels upon the harde trodden dooryard. It was not until Edith’s startled stare caught their attention that the Blakely family were aware that the Hon. “Hank" Spiser was regarding them with a faint sneer upon his face from the ‘loorway An ogre in their midst would have had much the same effect. He ed hardest at Nan, who made no motion to return bis sweeping salu- tation. ‘Ab: am relieved to find you here and fe," he said. “I eam fortunate to be here—and safe,” she replied with cold signifi- lot cance. He said no more. It was enough to have learned, as he suspected, that she was sh ys. “T stoppe . “to ask If you had decided to accept my offer?” Blakely returned his gaze steadily, and shook his head. “Not yet. There's no good reason why I should make a present of my Cattle Company.” inder the circum- e good offer—under the circum- es-but less than half their e. ou may be glad'to take it.” His tone was a threat. “Possibly,” Blakely smiled. “When that time comes I'll let you know.” “This is final?” “Final.” Spiser turned abruptly on his heel and walked aw. CHAPTER \I. A Lesson in Love. AB It only two months since she had come to live in the half of the Senor Epiphanio Montejo's long dobe in the Mexican vil- lage of Las Rubertas? Nan was king herself as she sat in her door- way, watching the colors of the sun- wet fade behind the distant ra It eeemed to Nan that it might have been two years, or always, that she had heard the coyotes barking at the edge of Senor Epiphanto’s falfa field and listened to the splash Yer of falling earth as the ever-changing Rio Grande ate away its banks. Home, the censorious family, Bob, seemed very far away. Forgetfulness was in the languorous air of spring. Much and little had Logi ce she had become a part of the placid, picturesque village life. ‘The war with Spain was well under way, and she had come to know Ben Evans far better than she had ever expected to know him after the dis- appointing episode at the Esméraldas ranch. Spiser had let her distinctly alone, which was not like Spiser, but was not curious as to reason since it was so. Mrs. Gallagher now called her chiquita oc ionally, and in unguarded moments showed her affection. Nan rode dally on horse- back and studied Spanish with the pompous schoolmaster. She felt a twinge of conscience when anxious and reproachful lett came from home in the erratic mails, and she dreaded rather than wel- comed them, for they only served to remind her that some time this dreamy, unreal life must end. And when she thought of that she thought of Ben Evans. She was waiting for him now, he had sent word that he might be abi to come, and soon her listening heard him greeting a Mexican in the plaza. The big sorrel he rode ambled into sight and stopped at the bara as the moon rose full and round, flooding the world witb its white light. He dropped the reins at the horse's head and came toward her eagerly. He did not let go the hand she ex- tended, but kept it in his own as he sat down beside her. The tinkle of many guitars now mingled with the sound of the river, and the alr was sweet with the scents of spring and the incense-like odor of burning pinon., The village looked a corner of fairyland in the light of the luminous moon and the spell of the night was upon them both. “Tm glad you could come.” re you-honest?” Honest.” ‘1 wanted to come—I couldn't atay away to-night.” “Not even if you lost your job? Nan had forgiven, perhaps, but not forgotten that. “Don't!” It was a @ore subject with him now. They were silent for a time, but it was @ eilence as significant as words. “T like you,” he said at last, husk- ily, with an effort. ke me? Is that all?” whole lot.” “I like a great many people a whole . Gallagher, for inatance,” she He moved uneasily, “Better than anybody!” She considered. ‘Better than Edith Blakely?” Ben heaitated and Nan suddenly felt more than a pang of jealousy. “More than Edith Blakely?” demand this time was vehement. “More than Edith Blakely,” he ad- mitted. After another silence Nan sald tn- nocently: “It isn't so much to say that you lke me better than anybody.” “What would L say?" he asked, sur- prised. “Can't danced, He shook his head. “You might say tha He drew back start “Lord! I couldn't say that!" She took her hand away. “Of course not, if you don't feel it. “Tain't that,” he explained anx- fously; “but that’s soft. That's talk- in’ like a novel.” “Nonsenge—say {t!" He squirmed, and Nan grow red in the moonlight “Aw-—g'wan—I couldn't say tha’ “Say it, if you mean it!” she de- manded imperiously. “You won't laug' clously. She shook her head. Shamefacedly he stammered while rapiration came out on his fore- ‘The you imagine?” Her eyes you love me.” saw him at mo?” suspt- ‘Love—I love you" —— More than anybody?’ “More than anybody,” he repeated after her. He did not find !t so difficult again. id é ® fight in El Paso. World Daily Mag sing. ‘Wednesday. April 34; he Romance of an Eastern Girl’s dventures on the Mexican Border In the soft radiance of the en- chanted night, being young and un- hampered and exalted of mood, they murmured to each other somethin, of their thoughts and feelings, eac! halting admission furnishing a free! ‘thrill, Ben looked at her in ecstacy. sweet— you are beautifull like you.” ‘ime to go to bed gher's prosaic interruption from the Montejo dooratep at the far end of the dobe came to remind them that the evening had . “You will come again soon?” Nan whispered softly. oon,” he replied. it with her chin in her palm watching horse and rider dti moonlight. The 6! hour and bis lent, if awkward, love making was still upon her, but with his going there began the per- sistent, disquieting voice of con- eclence inquiring: “Where are you drifting hen is this to end, and how? Are you in earnest, and if you are not, are you fair to Ben?” Nan had long since come to see that she and Ben were rt in their instincts and their standards. They seldom id the same opinions of people or things, because his reason- ing was faulty and his logic e' but she excused did his frequent omission of the emazing ignorance of any world but his own. It was @ significant fact that Nan became leas and less conscious of his deficiencies, more tolerant of his shortcomings, she proportionately ex- ¢ alted those qualities which ahe exces- sively admired—namely, hie physical courage and hia recognized akill along his own line. As ehe sat in the doorway the fam- fly seemed to rise before her like startled ghosts, and the email, inaist- ent voice with ita pertinent questions contributed to her uneasy feeling of wrongdoing. “Oh, senorita!” Nan turned to eee a small figure in a tattered shaw! standing irresolutely ¢, at the corner of the house. “Rosario?” Any interruption was welcome at the moment. Rosario Richards crept to her aide like a beaten little dog. Rosario Richards, whose Mexican mother had married one of the hated grin, and for whom her mother’s people, with whom she lived, had no love because of her gringo blood. Rosario, the sensitive little half- breed, who shyly brought Nan offer- ings of horned toads, queer Isards d soap root so that her hair might shine like the hair of the Senorita to cry softly: “I haf so ver’, ver’ many troubles, senorita, that I cannot sleep!” ‘Nan laid her arm about her shoul- ders and drew her closer. “Tell ma some of them, Rosario, “Mi madre!” she walled softly—“it T haf not mi madre!” “Yes, that is a trouble “Mi padre! If only I haf mi padre! He was Kill in the street when he Mi madre ebe die of the smallpox.” “You, those are troubles. And they are not good to you, Rosario—the Fuentes—your mother’s people?” “Like the dogs, I get what is left.” “Do they whip you, Rosario?” but it is not that.” then?” ave no tunica—what you call T dress—to wear, and to-morrow is the day of school d that is @ very important aa; NO, al, al, Senorita!” Rosario's eyes grew big with the {mportance of It. “All the people come to hear the les- sons and to see us speak the plece from the plattorm. livery nino wear his bes’ clothes, “r have been ver’ hart. all. the floor Careful, no maybe they give mo the dress for the las’ day of achool. ‘o-night they laugh at me and ) dreas in good enough eri Thaf learn the longest piece in the hymn-book to speak from. the platform, but when the teacher call ‘Rosario Richards’ I must shake for I will not stand up be- In the ol” shoes of The child threw show her rags oul ‘oman's shoe tled on with twin haf nothing but this—nada! nada! She buried her face in her shawl. “[ had no idea that you had @o very y troubles, Rosario.” ‘er’, ver’ many troubles, senorita ‘What color do you Itke best-the very best of all?” Rosario considered. good; JT work ood, Rosario! began to amile as her thought w. “If there is time to make It you | have the most beautiful dress a8 Rubertas for the last day of Rosario's eyes were round with tonishment, and perhaps a it doubt; of ‘course the senorita wi wonderful, but she had not seen the beautiful dregaes in Las Ruber- tas. Therefore Rosarto'’s eyes outshone the cangle in her hand when they went inside and Nan brought up from the bottommost depths of her trunk such a silk dress as Las Rubertas never had dreamed. How it shim- mered! How it shone! How soft it a Dh, senorita! breathed Rosario, and Nan laughed gleefully at her shining, astonished eyes. f you can help me we'll rip it to 8 to-night.” , ‘Oh, T can help!” dectared Ros: with such earnestness that Nan laughed aloud Carefully, ao carefully, Rosario ripped her seam by the dim candle- light, stopping only, now and then, to rub her palm in ecatasy over the glossy surface. “It is #0 be-a-u-teeful, senorita! Oh, muy hermosa!" Then she would hug herself in a transport of delight “More be-au-u-teeful than the dreas of the Senorita Perfecta that come from El Paso.” Once she oped and looked up soberly. “They will be ver’ mad at senorita.” “There will be no love lost,” Nan declared, gayly. “They do not like me, anyway.” They no lak Americanos,” agreed Rosario, gravely. "They 'fraid, yes; but, too, they hate Americanos,” It was nearly midnight when Ro- sario crept back to her sheepskin where ehe lay among the snoring you, Fuentes, dreaming of her coming trt- umph, For a persoa who was dressed when she lighted her cigarette and readjusted jb lagher showed a in and knowled, Lt) fat sire to turn Las Rubertas, and the Fuentes in particular, with whom she had had several spirited encounters, j ota] with envy as to give Rosario appiness. jut whatever her motive the result was the same, since she supplied the knowledge of cutting and basting la- boriously acquired at a mission echool, which Nan lacked. Rosario ran from echool at recess for a final fittin; all but swallowed The Fuen grossed arraying themselves in their own splendor to observe the ex- citement and haste of the despised Uttle gringo. While Nan brushed Rosario's thick hair and tied the long braid with a gorgeous satin bow, Mrs. Gallagher buttoned on the best shoes that the Senor Apedeca kept among his mea- re stock of groceries, And when the yellow dress, soft and shimmering as cobwebs in the sun, was slipped over her head and bu up behind, Rosario stood speechless before the refiection she saw in the big mirror which held up before her. She had never hoped to look like She never had dreamed that ny little gringo could look like that, and her black eyes turned to stars us they fared. She could only say chokingly, in gratitude and deligh “Oh, ver’, be-a-u-teeful, se- norit But her crowning glory was the string of gold beads which Nan clasped about her neck. Traty, It was worth being @ gringo to have Was this momen}! Mrs. Gallagher chuckled maliciously. She was thinking of the Fuentes’ erin, And when the time came it was Yj me by candle-light 9° of the dobe to Mra. » merely to see Rosarto, with her head proudly erect, walk down the aisle as the pompous mas- ter rang his bell for order. It was well worth the trouble if only to see the Fuentes’ buig! yes and Se- norita Perfecta Torres’s look of envy. The benches of the schoolroom were crowded with tors, but, when the schoolmast self con- scious and perspiring in his best black clothes-—-winter weight—seated himself in his squeaking rocking chair and pointed directly at Ro- sario with his long stick, @ silence fell in which the bussing of the files upon the window panes could be dis- tinctly heard. “Rosario Richards will cite 7 times 1 i Pad the schoolmoster. Rosario and the schoolmaster knew what the visitors did not— namely, that Rosario’s class had not yet reached “7 times 1 are 7"—that that diMcult table was two lessons further on. But her unexpected splendor had not escaped him, and he knew that would make no mistake with the families who controlled his reap- pointment by tabing down @ peg this little upstart half breed radiant in her borrowed finery. More than oni gued atoutly ag ronuncia tion of the English which he was re. quired by law to teach in tl johool; therefore something of his supreme satisfaction at this rare opportunity to humiliate her before her beloved Americana and Las Rubertas shone in his alits of eyes. Nan caught the startled look upon Rosario’a face and heard the faint titter from her classmates throughout the school room in her moment of hesitation. Perhaps Rosario heard tho titter too. At any rate her gringo blood re- sponded royally to the challenge. Her cheeks were burning, her eyes glow- ing like stare as she rose to her feet, an olive tinted little beauty in yellow silk, baited by her enemies. Slowly, very slowly, but surely, Rosario re- elted: “7 times 1 are 7” even to 7 times 7 are 49, and 7 times 12 are 4. It would have been wonderful even for a grown person who was not a schoolmaster to know so much, Las Rubertas admitted to Itself in deep and envious astonishment. But there was no applause on that account and she Anished in silence, rewarded only by a beaming smile from Nan, And how the little Fuentes, or- geous in green sateen, stammered over 2 times 9, and the little Montejos sat down sniffiing because 4 times 8 did not make 31. It was a succession of triumphs for Rosario who, inspired by the presence of her adored friend la Americana, and given confidence by the knowl. edge that she was wearing the “mos br u-teeful tunica in Las Ruber- outapelled and outread them all, Rosario's supreme moment came when the scowling schoolmaster called upon her for her “piece” which was to be spoken from the platform, and from which divers amall claim- ants for hiatrionic honors already had stumbled, weeping and disgraced, to their seats: Rosarto took care to finger her gold beads as she walked to the platform— gold beada are wonderfully atimulat- ing upon occasions of the kind—and as she made her small curtay she did not forget to amooth down the soft kathers of her skirt leat there be dull ones—oh, some very dull ones pres- ent who had not observed that it was changeable and sometimes shone a litte pink as well as yellow In the peat folda. Nor did she neglect as she recited to draw her long braid of hair with the broad satin bow on the end over her shoulder, for the same most ex- Nent reas: was a hymn she had learned the longest in the hymn book—nine verses and doleful-about death and worms -but she caroled It lke a bird a flashing yellow bird-—-with her eyes dancing and her mouth dimpling at the corners, as though death and worms were the most joyful and joy- ous things tn all the world when one was wearing kold beads and shim- mering silk An she stepped down from the platform with her little chin in. the air, proud in the consciousness that noone else in school could say nine verses out of the hymn book without a mistake, there was no relenting in the heavy, upturned faces of the vious parents and friends. But Ro- please re- commanded eario did not mind the eullen silence in which ber new ai beautifully, for to the little Cinder ella of Las Rubertas Nan’s radiant emile of approbation was quite se- ward enough. CHAPTER VII. The Heart of the Wild Dove. 1 damper was closed and emoke from the newly kin- @led fire was pouring from every crevice of the stove, but Mrs. Blakely, absent- mindedly washing dishes in cold Glipping over the heele of her carpet slippers, muffied her footsteps as she ‘walked across the floor and pulled Fats: eae TEAL 8 he aside a red calico curtain behind mas. which her daughter was changing to her riding clothes, “Edie, that gypsy feller told the z er right of it whem he sald a stran; girl was goin’ to cut you-all out.” Edith winced a@ Iittle, but sald nothing. “We ain't had a sight of Ben Evans for three weeks, have we?” Edith replied shortly. “Ho's busy; they're branding at the ©. Xx." “Not too busy to ride his string of horses down a gittin’ to Las Ruber- tas every time they're camped within thirty miles of the place,” retorted Mrs. Blakoly. know?" replied Mra, Blakely with offended dignity. declared You'll find out too lat girl’—Mrs, Blakely timentally—"pa couldn't keep hay to winter his stock for t die horses tied to nis stacks. know that song, ‘The Yeller Rose of Tex Beats tl Belles of Tennes- " Well, they’s some says that was wrote about me. Anyway, I never lost @ beau through bein’ cut out. Edie"—-Mra. Blakely grew melodra- Cappel resort to nearly any ver- mifuge frat!" what? “Fair means or foul, I'd keep him if T wanted him.” Edith pinned on her hat and did not took at her mother as she asked: “But how would you keep him if he didn't want you?" “They’ raised a mysterious finger. Tiptoe- ing to the door to peer out she in: advertantly stepped on her stocki with the oth foot. Coming back. Edith looked a question. “They's ways,” she repeated, and Eat ageree If you'll jest do what I tell you it'll fetch him.” Mrs. Blakely was more than pleased at this rare opportunity to discuss the art and gentile practices of love. It received romaic hus- dest daughter. she whispered, “you sprinkle the ashes of the heart of a wild dove on bim and you got him! ‘The receipt is to kill it yoahself, burn its heart to ashes and slip it in bis © pocket or sprinkle him.” “Did you try it on dad?” Mra. Blakely tossed her head. r had to. An ole lady what had charmed and buried foab hus- bands, poah soul, tole me.” Edith heard her father calling im- There was y in hin face, ‘ou ride the range I went over yesterday, Edie. I thought I cov- ered it well, but there's a chance [ may have missed them, They might have been in the brush somewhere's out of the way of the flies, I hope sv, but in my heart I know they ain't. We're short fifteen head now, and if y I'll be sure They separated to ride the range in different directions in search of the missing cattle, each with a heavy heart, but from dif- ferent causes. Biakely's face was dark with thoughts of Spiser, the unscrupulous bully who would trample him and his into the earth without a quaim for a little strip of water and a few miles of range. Stinging teara blinded Edith's eyes as instinctively sho turned her horse up the trail which lod out of the cool thicket to the bot mesa “It isn't fair!" she sobbed, softly, bending over her horse's neck—"it isn't fair at all!" “She has everything and I have aken Ben! It ain't ‘# fell on the pony’s “{ like him more than she doen I know T do.” ‘The injustice of life and the seem- ing futility of combating it fell upon her young shoulders that morning with crushing weight, It was a relief to be alone and to sob her heart out to the unanswering air, She could not make 1 confidante of her foolish, sentimental mother, nor add to her father's depression by telling him of this new sorrow. She loved Ren simply and unre servedly, with hone of the conflict emotions which disturbed — Nan’ peace of mind, He was a man like her father, the only type that had entered into her girlish dream: had no romantic notions of a rich husband and a life of which she was ignorant. he would have been content to have lived over again the life of her mother with its poverty and hard- She bit her lip hard her head from him. brash ~ “Tell me, Edie,” he demanded eo- Mettously, and iat ner ‘4 an ye his hand upon e famil tt tarted tears afresh. om scoot “Nothing—ob. I don't ki lod sobbed. now!’ “Of course you do. You ain't girl to cry for nothin: a But she had too much woman's pride to tell him the truth if he was dense, too little interested to It's the cattle’—sne kept her from him—“we're tosing them.” “Disease—dyin’ you mean?’ J “Ruatlers.” “The greasers, you think?” i od She shook her head. i “They're going too fast for that. The greasers only kill for beet. Some one’s running them off. Re: © was ® mixture of many 4 face emotion: “Who i you bed it ie? “Who do you think It would be’ demanded Edith bitterly. Theres only one person that wants to break ire, Edie,” he arm and demanded anerliys “You don’t think I've had any hand in it or knew anything about it?” She looked at him squarely. oe ‘0, Ben, not a minute. You know bunch of cattle means to i You wi ‘ou'v ridin’ these mesas and arroyor ee rer band Urelyers & boy. Doin’ i Morar ip dad, now he's got o ‘ou know what it is to ri the wind scorching you, Blowing hot like it came out of @ furnace, the Ce fee oe up the blood tn yi , and your eyes half. bloodshot from the aia oe “And you know what in winter with your bi ihe to you can’t hold ¢! your feet in the att pee) I know, atic sympathy, “and you's nerviest @iri in the country, Bale. ire brag on you whenever I get the . You-all deserve to make your #take and I'm mighty giad thet} you didn’t think I knew an; about the cattle you been foate Bhd won't say I never rustied none, maybe I have, but rustlin’ from e® port erat hy, @ay, that's downright “I like to think that you consider? mo—un that,” with a “What!"—he turned in his and looked at her tn astonish 4 aon haven't been thinkin’ that T m't_ look on you fol friends?" ig gk i “We haven't seen much of you lately," Edith replied, very busy straightening her stirrup thet eho need not meet his eye. “We waited Sunday dinner twice.” id you now?—why, you ahi lone that.” add ‘ou used to come 6o rey kinda got in the way of Ms you.” Her voice shook a little, but Ben did not seem to notice it. “T was a pretty steady boarder there for a while,” he admitted umect concernedly, “but you shouldn't a put yourself out none.” aus His indifference hurt her ao mi that she could think of nothing mi ey Oo may, an’ ey rode for nearly haja¢ & mile tn silence before he asked: “How long since the count on youd cattle didn't come out right, Edlety “About ten days, or two weeks.) ‘2 He frowned in thought. roa It & week, ten days—yes, weoks ago, that Spiser had sent Ki sas Ed to ride this particular range and brand. ‘Taet yellowback cows puncher wae just the petty lareamig thief he would send to do a trick Of. the kind. wor “I've got to quit you here. bot ned Le home 4 @ standstill—' ell your das y eep My eyes OF and if T learn anything I'll send hel! wor “All right, Ben,” she sald with an and added in a kind of aad nm pose you couldn't come, Promise—I = might: with a short laugh—"Spirer’s ridin” herd on me pretty close lately. Pre lable to get my time if I don't look out.” He knew, and he knew that Bi knew, why Spiser was “riding hi on him, but he could not resist temptation to boast to Edith of attachment to Nan, even while than dimly aware of the stab it her, (Tv Be Continued.) but ert ALADDIN FROM BROADWAY By Frederic $, Isham WILL BEGIN NEXT "s Evening , da World