The evening world. Newspaper, July 22, 1915, Page 15

CHAPTER VI. ’ (Continued.) } DON'T see the moral to the parable.” He shook his head helplessly. “No?” She flushed and Dit her Up. “William C. Dagget, you're Billy Garrison, and you know it!” she said, sharply, turning and facing him. “Don't try to deny it. You a are, are! I know it. You took that mame beckuse you didn’t wish your relatives to know who you were. Why don't you ‘fess up? What is the use of concealing it? You've nothing to be ashamed of. You sbould be proud of your record. I'm proud of it. Proud that—that—well, Mat 1 rode « race with you to-day. You're hiding your identity; afraid of what your uncle and aunt might say—afrald of that Carter Handicap ‘affair. As if we didn’t know you always rode as straight as a string.” Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes flashing. Garrison eyed her adily. His face was white, his breath coming 1 hot and hard. Something was beat- ® ing—beating in bis brain as if striv- / ing to Jam through. Finally he shook r bis head. “No, you're wrong. mistaken identity. ~~ s0n. Her gray eyes bored into his. “You rely, mean that—Billy?” a t It's a case of I'm not Garri- “On your word of hopor? By every- thing you hold most sacred? Take your time in answering.” “It wouldn't matter if I waited till | the resurrection. I can't change myself. I'm not Garrison. Faith of a otleman, I'm not. Honestly, Sue.” Hoe laughed a little nervously. Again her gray eyes searched big. She sighed. “Of course I take your word.” jhe fumbled in her bosom and brought forth a piece of paper, care- f fully smoothing out its crumpled 4q @urface, Without a word she handed it to Garrison, and he spread it out on his filly’s mane. It was @ photo- ph of a jockey—Billy Garrison, face was more youthful, care- free. Otherwise it was a fair like- | ness. “You'll admit it looks somewhat \ Mike you,” said Sue, with great dry- nes: rrison studied it long and care- ' fully. “Yes—I do,” he murmured, in ‘ perplexed tone. “A double. Funny, n't it? Where did you get it?” She laughed a little, flushing. \ nf Was silly eneugh to think you were one and the same, and that you wished to conceal your identity from your relatives, So I made occasion to steal it from the book your aunt ‘was about to read. Remember? It was the leaf she thought the major had abstracted.” \. “IE must thank you for your kind- mess, even though it went astray. ave it?" “{e-cs. And you gre sure you are “the original?” neh Maven't the slightest recollection of being Billy Garrison,” reiterated Billy Garrison, wearily and truthfully, The ride home was mostly one of ailence. Both were thinking. As they came within sight of Calvert House the girl turned to him: “There is one thin; you can do— rid6. Like glory. here did you more than learn?” “Must have been born with me. “What's bred in the bone will come out in the blood,” she quoted entg- matically. She was smiling in a way that made Garrison vaguely uncom- tortable. CHAPTER VII. ALONE in his room that night ) Garrison endeavored to fo- cus the stray thoughts, sus- picions that the day's events running through bis brain, But he could come to no conclu- sion, Learning that Waterbury, tor whom Garrison used to ride, was soon to be a guest of Col, Desha’s, he de- bi f i cided to meet him and make ia- I, quiries. Then came a letter to him from Snark; a letter that frankly hinted at blackmall, and worrying over this letter made him forget for the mo- ment his plan of solving the mys- tery abgut hinself. Meantime Waterbury arrived at Col. veshu's house. He had come chiefly io seo Sue. He had long since fallen in love with her The Colonel, swol with the wine ning of the Carter Handicap, had con- ceived the idea tha: he was possessor od-xiven knowledge of the the wrong side of the Brooklyn, rity, and a swamp What Waterbury had to do with the case was not clear, The %q Colonel had taken his advi time de\ and time asain only to lose. But the Kentucky estates had been sold, and AD Mr, Waterbury held the mortgage of ZA} the Desa home. And one night the at’ Colonel told Sue the whole wretched J” story of bis financial mud “Daddy, is that—all?” steadily, He did not arewer. Then, man as he was, the blood came sweeping to face and neck, “IE mean,” added the girl quietly, her steady but very kind, holdin “T had word from the National eyes, 1 nc morning saying that our ao on sne asked “E's earned ‘is cla’ drawn"—— “Yes—I drew inst it,” whispered Colonel Desha. ie would not meet her eyes; he who had looked every man in tho . The fire caught him again. “I had to, girlie, I bad to,” he orled over and over again, “I intended telling you, We'll make it ti over. It was my all up on the books He'll win the only chance. Ii —up on The Rogue. ‘;, Carter as sure as there's an angel in heaven. It’s @ ten-thousand stake, and I've laid twenty on him—the Pg td balance, girtie, I can pay off Waterbury"—The fire died away as quickly, Somehow in the stillness of the room, against t look in the girl's eyes, words seemed so pitifully futile, eo blatant, so utter- ly_trivial, Bue's face was averted, eyes on floor, hande tensely clasping those of her father. Absolute stiliness held the room. The colonel was staring at the girl’s head. “T'e—it'e all right, girlie. All right, don’t fret," he murmured thickly, “The Rogue will win. You don’t understand—you're only a girl—only a@ child”"— e “Of course, daddy,” Bu slowly, widectyeds “him only & child, But she understcod more than her) father. She was thinking of Ltd Garrison, CHAPTER VIII. terested desire to see his pseudo nephew astride Ld mount afforded Garrison the legitimate opportunity the next few days. The track was situated some three miles from Cal- vert House—a modern racing stable in every sense of the word—and early forth, accompanied by the indefati- wable major, Moreover, it seemed that the Car- ter Handicap and the beating of his) Desha, had stuck firmly in Major Calvert's craw, It was decided now that Garrison should try out the fast black filly | T don't understand.” AJOR CALVERT’S really in- of keeping clear of Mr. Waterbury for the next morning Garrison started very good friend and neighbor, Col.| Dixie, just beginning training for the | Carter, je had a hundred and twenty-five pounds of grossness to boil down before making track weight, but the opening spring han- | dicap was five months oft. NO, | DON'T FEED TRAMPS ~ GET OUT ON You L_N) NOTHING FoRYou Get ouT! | Am PESTERED Ta DEATH WITH TRAMPS HEY THERE'CONE BACK, You SEE The blood was pounding in Garri- son's heart as he lightly swung up! on tho sleek black filly. The old, nameless longing, — th insistent thought that he had done all this better before—to the roar of thou- sands of voices—possessed him, Instinctively he understood his mount; her defects, her virtues. In- stinctively he sensed that she was not a “whip horse.” A touch of whalebone and she would balk—stop dead in her stride. He had known such horses before, generally fillies, As soon as Garrison's feet touched stirrups all the condensed, colossal knowledge of track and horse-flesh, gleaned by the sweating labor of yea came tingling to his Oinger-tips, Ju amt, instinct, daring, nerve, all his; at his beck and call; serving their master, He felt every inch the veteran he was—though he knew it not. It was not @ freak of nature. He had worked, worked hard for knowledge, and it would not be denied. He felt as he used to feel before he had “gone back.” Garrison took Dixie over the seven furlongs twice, and in a manner, do- spite her grossness, the mare had never been taken before. She ran as easily, as relentlessly, without hitch or break, as fine-spun silk rs a through a shuttle, She was bigh- strung, sensitive to a degree, but Garrison understood her, and she an- swered his knowledge loyally. “Boy,” said the eager Major, laying 4 hand on Garrison's shoulder and an- other on Dixie's flank, “I've been look- ing for some one to ride Dixie in the Carter—some one who could ride; ride and understand. I've found that some one in my nephew, You'll ride her— ride as no one else can, God knows how you learned the game—I don't. But know it you do. Nor do I pre tend to know how you understand the filly. I don’t understand it at all, It must be a freak of nature.” “Ho, yuss!" added Crimmins quiet- ly, his eye on the silent Garrison, "Ho, yuss! it must be a miracle, But I tell you, Major, it ain't no miracle. It ain't, That boy ‘as earned ‘is class, 'E ‘as — somewhere, Understands Dixie? ‘E could understand any ‘orse, It don't come to @ chap in the night. ‘E's got to slave fr_it—slave ‘ard. Ho, yuss! your neffy can ride, an’ 'e can s'y wot 'e likes, but if 'e ain't modelled on Billy Garrison ‘isself, then I'm a bloomin’ beet-eatin’ Dutchman! ‘E's th’ top spit of Garrison—th’ top spit of ‘im, or may I never drink agyn!” There was sincerity, good feeling and foree behind the declaration, and the Major eyed Garrison intently and with some curiosity. For the succeeding days, Garrison and the major haunted the track. It was decided that the former should wear his uncle's colors in the Car- ter, and he threw himself into the training of Dixie with all bis pains- taking energy and knowledge. The Rogue's success meant every- thing to Desha—everything in the world. He wouldgbe obliged to win. Col, Desha was not one who believed in publishing a dally “agony column." He could hold his troubles as he could his drink—like a gentleman, He had not Intended that Sue should be party to them, but that nleht of the confession they had caught him unawar And he played the host bury as only @ Southern n turfman That other than mere friendship and re- gard when proffering his advice and the had motives finang.al a suspectal, As for Garrison, despite his earnest attention ¢@ the track, those were un- happy da," Zor him. He thought that he had vo uatarily giyea up Sue's so- clety; givin it up for the sake saving his kin; for the fear of meet- ing Waterbury, The Major and his wife noted that Garrison and Sue were no longer in each other's company, and one night the Major called Garrison to him and advised him to “make up” the sup- posed quarrel, istance, the colonel never ¥ 1] OR HLL SIC THE DOG ‘To BE AN HONEST stnay aes ARE UGLY I~ MY! WHAT A BeautiFuL WOMAN | i % SUCH DISTINCTION | Garrison slowly made his way downstairs. His face was set, He knew his love for Sue was hopeloss, an absurdity, a crime, But why had she broken the engagement? Had ‘Waterbury said anything? He would go over and face Waterbury; face him and be done with it, ie was reckless, desperate. As ho descended the wide veranda steps a man stepped from behind a magnolia tree shadow- ing the broad walk. A clear three- quarter moon was riding in the heav- ens, and {t picked out Garrison's hia, set face, The man swung up and tapped him on the shoulder. “Hello, Bud!” It was Dan Crimmins, CHAPTER IX. ARRISON eyed him coldly, and was about to pass when Crimming barred his way. “I suppose when you gets up in the world, it ain't your way to know folks you knew be- fore, is it?” he asked gently. “But Dan Crimmins has a heart, an’ it ain't his way to shale friends, even if they has money, It ain't Crimmins's way.” “Take your hand off my shoulder,” id Garrison steadily, “It don't go, boy. No, no.” He shook his head. “Try that on those who don't know you. I know you, You're Billy Garrison; I'm Dan Crim- mins. Now, if you want me to blow in an’ tell the Major who you are, just say so. I'm obligin’. It's Crim- mins's way. But if you want to help an old friend who's down an’ out, just say 90, I'm waitin’.” Garrison eyed him. Crimmins? Crimmins? The name was part of his dream, What had he been to this man? What did this man know? “Take a walk down the pike,” sug- gested the other easily, “It n't often you have the pleasure of seein’ an old friend, an’ the excitement is a little too much for you, began Crimmins, once the shelter of the pike was Kained. “I’m Billy Crimmine’ brother ~the chap who trains for Major Cal- vert. Now, I was down an’ out—I guess you know why—an’ no I wrote him askin’ for a little hglp, An’ he Wouldn't give it, He's what you might call a lovin’, confldin’, tender young brother, But he mentioned in his let- ter that Bob Waterbury was here, and he asked why I had loft his service, Bome things don't get into the papers down here, aa’ just as well You know why I loft Waterbury. Water- bury— Here Crimmins carefully selected a variety of adjectives with which to decorate the turfman, He also spoke. freely about tho other's ancestors, and concluded with voicing certain dark convictions regarding Mr/ Waterbury's future, Garrison listened blankly, “What's all this to me?” he aaked 5! 1 don't know you nor Mr. “Hell, you don't!" rapped out Crim- ming. “Quit that game. I may have done things against you, but I've paid for them. You can't touch me on that count, but IT can touch you, for I know you ain't the major’ nephew—no more than the Chetk of Umpooba. I'm ashamed of you. Tryin’ on a game like that with your old trainer, who knows you"—— os Garrison caught him flercely by the arm. His old trainer! Then he was Billy Garrison. Memory was fighting furiously. He was on fire, “Billy Garriyon, Billy Garrison, Billy Garri- son,” he repeated over and shaking Crimmins like a reed. on, BO on, BO 01 he panted. me what you know about me. Go on, go on, Am I Garrison? Am 1? Am I” m 1? Then, holding the other as in @ vise, the thoughts that had been writhing in his mind for so long came hurtling forth. At last here was some one who knew him. His old trainer. ‘What better friend could be need? He panted in his frenzy. The words tripping over one anothor, smothering, choking. And Crimmins with set face listened; listened as Garrison went over past events since that memorable morning he had awakened in the hospital with the world a blank and the past @ blur, He told all—all; ike a@ little child babbling at its mother’s knee, “why did I leave the track? Why? Why?" he finished in a whirlwind of passion. “What happened? Tell m Say I'm honest. Say it, Crimmins say it. Help me to get back. I can ride-ride like glory. I'll win for you ~anything. Anything to get me out of this hell of deceit, nonentity, namelessness. Help me to square emyself, I'll make a name nobody'll be ashamed of"——~ His words trailed away. Passion left him weak and quivering. Criinmins throat. his eyes, “It ain't Dan Crimmins’s way to go back on a friend,” he ing @ hand on Garrison's “You don't remember nothing, all on account of that bingle you got on the head. But it was Crimmins that made you, Bud. Sweated over you like @ father, .It was Crimmins who Bot you out of many a tight place when you wouldn't listen to his ad- vice, I ain't saying it wasn't right to skip out after you'd thrown every race and the Carter; after poisoning Bis"—— . a “Then—[—was—not—honest?” asked Garrison.” He was.horribly quiet, “Emphatic'ly no,” said Crimmins sadly. He shook his head. “And you don't temember how you came'to Dan Crimmins the night you skipped out and you says: ‘Dan, Dan, my only friend, tried and true, I'm broke.’ Just like that you says it. And Dan says, without waitin’ for you to ask; he says: ‘Dilly, you and me have been pals for fifteen years; pals man and boy. A friend is a friend, and @ map who's broke don’t want sympathy—he needs money, Here's three thousand doMars—all I've got. I was going to buy a home for the old mother, but friendship in need comes before all. It's yours. Take it. Don't say a word, Crimmins has a heart, and it's Dan Crimmins's y. He may suffer for it, but it's his way.’ That's what His judicially cleared his There was @ queer light in whispered Garrison. eyes were very wide and vacant. Crimmins spat carefully, as if to stimulate his imagination, “No, no, you don't remember,” he mused sadly, “Now you're tooting along with the high rollers. But I ain't Kickin’, It's Crimmins's way never to give his hand in the dark, but when he does give !t—for life, my boy, for life. But I was thinkin’ of the wife and kids you left up in Long Island; left to face the music, Of course I stood their friend as best I could"—— “Then—I'm married?" asked Garri- eon slowly, He laugap1—a laugh that SUCH REFINEMENT j NOTHING DOWG wy THAT oe HROMO ~ SHE IS AS STINGY AS SHE IS SUCH A_MARVELOUS TEMPLE ON ' SucH GLORIOUS HAIR! WAIT HERE MY Good MAN , Lb BRING You SONE- THING To EAT caused the righteous Crimmins to wince, The latter carefully wiped bis eyes with a handkerchief that had once been white. “Boy, boy!" he said, in great agony of mind. “To think you've gone and forget the sacred’ bond of matrimony! I thought at least you would have re- membered that. But I says to your wife, I says: ‘Billy will come back. He ain't the kind to leave you an’ the kids go to the poorhouse, all for the want of a little gumption. come back and face the charges’ "——— “What charges?” Garrison did not segggeize his own voice, “Why, polsoning Sis. It's @ jail offense,” exclaimed Crimmins. “Indeed,” commented Garrison, Agal @ laughed, and again the righteous Crimmins winced, rri- eon's gray ¢: had the glint of sun shining on ice, H. it had many @ neck-and-neck down grit. of old what that mouth portended, he spoke hurriedly, “Don't do anything rash, Bud. Ty- wones is bygones, and, as the Bible ‘Circumstances alters cases,’ hen this ip how I stand,” cut in Garrison steadily, unheeding the ad- vice, He counted the dishonorable tally on his fingers. “I'm a hors poisoner, a thief, a welcher, I've de- serted my wife and family. I owe you said Crimmins deprecatingly, adding on the two just to show he had no hard feclings. “Good,” said Garrison. He bit his bit until the blood came. “Good,” he said again, He was silent. fT ain't in a burr; ut in Crim- mins magnanimous): "But you can bag it easy. The JOR me ey "ve & gentleman,” finished Garrison, narrowed. “A gentleman whom wronged—treated like"——~ He clenched his hands, Words were of no avi “That's all ri tt.” argued the other pereussively. “What's the use of get- in’ flossy over it now? Ain't you known all along, when you put the game up on him, that you wasn't his nephew; that you were doin’ him dirt?” “Shut ap,” blazed Garrison sav- agely. “I know-—what I've done fouled those I'm not fit to grovel to. I thought I was honest—in a way. Now I know I'm the scum I am"—— “You don't mean to say you're goin’ to welch again,” asked the horrified faemlre "Goin’ to tell the ma- jor"—~ “Just that, Crimmins, Tell them Waterbury, id what I am. I may have been what you say, but I'm not that now. I'm not,” reiterated passionately, daring contradiction. "I've gneaked long enough, Now I'm done with it"—— “See here,” inserted Crimminas, dangerously reasonabi “your little Fite: Washing game may be all right to you, but where does Dan Crimmins come in and sit down? It ain't his way to be left standing, You epi to the major and Waterbury? They'll mash your face off! And where's my five thousand, eh? Where ia it if you throw over the bank?” “Damn your five thousand!" shrilled . Passion throwing him. your debt to what I owe? money? You say you're my friend, You say you have been, Yet you come here to blackmail me—yes, that's the word I used, and the one I mean, Blackmail, You want me to continue living @ Me #o that I may LEAVE (T TOME You Are No DIPLOMAT —Ss By RAND life’ was the stake, and the odds were against him, CHAPTER X. T was Waterbury who was lying uncénsctous on the lonely Logan Pike; Water. bury who had been throws as the bay gelding strove desperately to overhaul the fying runaway filly, Sue had gone for an evening ride, She wished to be alone. It had been impoastbie to lose the ubiquitous Mr, Waterbury, but this evening The Rogue bad evinced premonitory symp- toma of a distemper, and the greatly relsed colonel bad induced the turfman to ride over and a look at him, This left Sue absolutely un- fettered, the first occasion in a week. Sho was of the kind who fought out ntly, singly, but not plac- an have something to something on which distemper of a heart She it stion before warning & les ‘son 8h6 could not remain inactive. he must walk, walk, up and down, up and down, until ite moral or text was beaten Into her mentality with her echoing footsteps. contend ag to work out th and mind not in harmon, in this occasion ghe was in the hu- sor to dare 4 Pelt ak Say ugh sheer irritability of heart— not mind. And so she saddied Lethe —an unregenera: ft (ern Trail, whos ness forcibly reminded zac yr nag deacri 9 ys dden in an emp ine ‘rad been forbidden to ride the pinto ever since the day it was brought home to her with irrefutable | « ania thi r tl Uy the shortest cee yeen two points is a straight line, wae tanee ot a parabola she de scribed, when, bucked off, her head mashed the ground, but the simile v |**hut she would ride Lethe to-night |the other horses were too comforta- ble. They served to irritate the bandit passions, not to subdue them. She panted for some one something, to will, onthe felt that there was a passion that night riding her; a passion that | tar euresages Tell late WwW i dee! o arbitrate. | are until this all-powerful passion | burned itself out; then she could af- ford to safely agitate her own. It would not have grown less in. thi necessary interim. So, much to Sue the filly was as gentle as erblal lamb. she turned for home, Water- pay be le out of the deepening KXows behind her, He had left the Colonel at his breeding farm. Wate bury and Sue rode in slience, The girl was giving all her attention to her thought: What was left over was devoted to the insistent Boat gt ascertaining Lethe, who ever and hei 4 tested rip on her bridie-re eather or not there were any symp- stop your mouth with money, You {o; of relaxation or abstraction. say I'm married. But do you wish mo — It Is human nature to grow tired of to mo badk to my wife and children, to being good. Waterbury’s better nae try to square myself before God and ture had been in the ascendancy for them? Do you wish me to face over a week, He thought he could af- Waterbury, and take what's coming ford to draw on thi surplus balance to me? No, you don't, you don't. to his credit. He was riding very gloss You lie if you say you do. It'e your- to Sue, He had encroached, inch by self—yourself you're thinking of, I'm jnch, but her oblivion had not been in. to be your jackal. That's your friend- cjination, as Waterbury fancied. Hi ahip, Crimmins, then to the devil with edged nearer, As she did not heed the it, and may God send me hatred in- steal, he took tt for a grant. We fit stead!” He choked with the sheer facts to our inclination. The animal smother of his passion. arose mightily in him. In stooping to Crimming was breathing heavily. avoid an overhanging branch he Ther. passion marked him for the brushed against her, The contact set thing he was. Garrison saw confront- him afla Ho was hungrily eying ing him not the unctuous, plausible her profile. Then, in @ second, he had friend, but a hunted animal, with fear crushed her head to his shoulder and and venom showing in bis narrowed was fiercely kissing her again and 63 And, curlously enough, he no- ag: adr, eyes, hair, Ui ticed for the first time that the prison hi he pallor was strong on Crimmins's face He laughed fool: ond that the hair above his outstand- His mouth felt a ing ears was clipped to the roots. paper, His face was white, but not aa ‘nen Crimmina spoke; through his white as hers. teeth, and very slowly. “So you'll go She was silent, Then she drew a to Waterbury, eh?” And he nodded handkerchief from her sleeve and very the words home. “You—little cur, you carefully wiped her lips. She was ab- ‘ou little misbegotten bottle of bile! »olutely silent, but a pulse was beat- What are you and your hypocrisies t) ing-—beating in her alim throat, The me? You don’t know me, you don’t action, her silence, inflamed Waters know me." He laughed, and Garrison bury. He de to crush her waist felt repulsion fingering his heart. Then with his rayenous arm. Then, for the the former trainer shot out a clawing, first time, she turned slowly, and her dT t that money— narrowed eyes met his. He saw, even !" he spat, taking @ step in the gloom, Again he laughed, but ‘You want hatred, eb? the onrushing blood purpled his nec! you'll have, boy. Hatred’ Desperation came to help him brav. ve always given ydu, you miser- those eyes—came and failed. He pulling, lly-livered spawn of talked, declaimed, avowed—grew br med tally frank. Finally he spoke of the Garrison blotted out the Insult to his mortgage he held, and waited, breath- mother’s memory with his knuckles. {ng heavily, for the answer, There “And that's for your friendship,’ none. said, smashing home a right eros ‘i stppoge it's some one else, eh?” Crimmins arose very slowly from’ he rapped out, red showing in the the white road, and even thought of brown of his eyos. iickng some of the fine dust from hia Silence. He coat, He was smiling. The moon wai very bright. Crimmins glanced up ap. The and gown the deserted pike. From the red deepened in Sue's cheeck—two red distant town @ bell chimed the hour of spot cight, He had twenty pounds the bet- + ter of the weights, but he was taking yert's, no chances, For Garrison, all hit jagt shred of common decency he wealth of hard earned fistic education could lay claim to; It was caught up roused, was waiting; waiting with the and whirled away in the tempest of jufinite patience of the wounded his passion. “I saw him to-day, on cougar, my way to the track. He didn’t see Crimming looked up and down the me. When I knew him bis name wi road again, Then he came in, a Garrison—Billy Garrison. I discharme blackjack clenched until the veins in him for dishonesty. I suppose he his hand ridged out purple and tout sneaked home to a confiding uncle as did those in his neck. A muscle when the world had kicked him out. Was beating in his wooden ¢l I suppose they think he's all right, He struck savagely, Garrison 4ld¢- game as you do. But he's a thief. A pped, and his fist clacked under common, low-down——" Crimmins's chin, Neither spoke. ‘he girl turned swiftly, Again Crimming came in, little gauntlet caught Waterbury full A great splatter of hoof-beats came gorogs the mouth from down the pike, sounding Wke ““tyoy let" she whispered, very aoft- the vomitings of w Gatling gun. A ty, ner face white and quivering, ber horse streaked Its way toward thom. eves black with passion. ar Well, hatred that 1 eblie, a’ Crimmins darted into the under- ~ x brush bordering the pike, The horso , And then Lathe saw her opportual- came fast. Jt flashed past Garrison, {¥;, Benaed It in the momentary, t- Its rider was swaying in the saddle; ok Ake bit into her fleroe, even white rere LRuda. MS aren mete, Oaad teeth, and with a snort ahiot down the straight ahead, vacant. A broken Pike A faddie-girth flapped raggedly., Gar. _ And then Waterbury’s better self Fiaon recomuised the fact that It was @ runaway, with Sue Desha up. Another ‘horse followed, throwing Wave and swam) space furiously, It was a big bay Of antmalinm, gelding. As it drew bre * Gor. after the f ison, standing motionless in the White road, it shied. Its rider rock. Garrison rode one of the best races eted over its head, thudded on tho of his life that night. Tt was a trial ground, heaved once or twice, and of stamina and nerve. Lethe was then lay very still, The horse swept primarily a sprinter, and the gelding, on, As it passed, Garrison swung raised to his greatest effort by the beside It, caught Its pace for an in- genius of the rider, outfought her, stant, and then eased himself into outstayed her. the saddle, Then he bent over and moon-swept road, bright as at any rode as only he could ride, oon tie It was @ runaway handicap. Sue's would de bi ained supremacy; contrition, selt- fiatred rushing in like @ flerce tidal ping the last vestige He spurred blindly disappearing filly. Bob Hampton of Placer NDALL PARRI st ARR and her As he flew down the Garrison knew success is, providing Sue kept ber SH seat, her nerve, and the saddle twisting. Inch by inch the white, flecked the filly was eaten up. On, ohly the tempest of ir the echo of Hying hoofs for On, on, until now the ensies, poked his nose past t a Bocks. Garrigor ae horses. He called the gelding for a supreme Fee and the gelding swered imp he He bunched himseif, shot past filly, Twenty yard: yards to the fore, and then rl turned, easily in the saddle. ‘ Mi ha, let her come,” eorful all the bitterness of outstripped by «& C4 whom she had beaten time and As she caught the latter's pace, as her wicked nose drew side of the others’ withers, Garrison | shot out @ band, clas: od elutch on U spume-si swung the gelding across the me, right of rey then, with bis hand, choked the fight from her “Pit thens Womantike, Bu en, Woman and Garrison was Just in time to ist ber through arms to the a The two horses, thorough! \y Placidly settled down to nibble’ the oct! grass by the wayside, . Sue lay there, her wealth of hair #? clouding Garrison's shoulder. watched consciousness flutter of her breath. of ber hair, of hi Chal honor, ered. fought to keep from ki “ she ia tnere unarmed, roat pulsed; her eyes ned. rison kissed her again and stripping her as a drowning man at & passing straw, With a great heave and a * ate cry she flung him from her. rose unsteadily to her feet. Hi shame engulfing him. Then she caught her breath hard, ‘Ont she said softly, you! @ laughed trem T thought it was “ta oust Mr, Waterbury.” ine fromm ace between the rodite ane? . Oty — ‘7 Relief, longing, She made a ple: arms—a chil was in her voige. ading motion with her © , longing for its mother’s heck. He did not eee, heed, “He was "8h hi nervously running bi id tl Lis half, face flaming. en nist Waterbury was thrown. I tookii!i # mount,” he blurted out, at length. “Are you hurt? . be he shook her head without otal iting her lips, She was ng him with her eyes; eyes Gecqrat with passion. The memory of + moment in his arms was seething’ /* within her. Why-why had she not known! They looked at neh eee pa ig eye; soul to soul. ther 19 Oke. ‘ She shivered, though the night was | warm. om “Why did you call me Miss Desha ? hs Jength. ise.” he sald feebly—his ture was true to his Southern mother. ie was fighting self like the girl ‘I'm going away,” he added. It had to come with a rush or not at all. And it must come. He heaved his chest as & swimmer seeks to breast the waves. “I'm not worthy of you. I'm beast," he said. “I 1 to you; lied when'I sald I was rison. I am Billy Garrison. know was. aw not did not™ know now, » ‘ou were,” said y did you try ‘ In sharp staccato sentences he told her of his lapse of memory. “Tt was not because I was a thief; because | was kicked from the turf; #@ because [ was @ horse poisoner’—— ©¥* Then “That m2 be, o asked grimly. “Yes, it's true. You doubt me, don't you? You think I knew my my crimes all alon, a Sa, 'T believe yo oe qui te “Thank you,” be replied as quietly. (a4 ‘And—you think it necessary, im. ‘There Ay “7 perative that you go away?” Was an inuttered sob In her volce, snoueR she sought to choke It do.” He laughed a lttle—the © laugh that had caused the righteous ye cy gesture with * iy," she sald, and steppe |, eyes flaming. ‘ “You were right to Break the en- °* gagement,” he sald al eyes, on the ground, “I suppose Mr. Water- bury told you who I was, and—and SF puree you could only act as you She was silent, her face qui . “And you think that of me? (7 could think it of me? No, from the. 4 first I knew you were Garrison*—— * ‘Forgive me,” he inserted, ‘I broke’ the engagement,” ahe added, “because conditions were §/ changed—with me. My condition wus no longer what it was when the en- gagement made”. checked herself with an effort. . he “T think I underst & a said, and admiration was in his eyes.) 99 know the track. I should.” He was speaking Hfelessly, eyes still on the ground. “Al understand 18 you do not know—all.” ” “Um-um-m."” Ha looked uw faced her head held bk: are “tL am an adventurer,” he aid slowly. ‘A scoundrel, an impostor, I am aot --Major Calvert's nephew." A: watched uni . watched her eye “ ingly as they chan and changed \.4 you again. But he would not look hand 4 “TI think [ will sit do throat, She seated herself, as one m.. tom by the “wayalde, don't mind,” she whispere: He obeyed automatically, not striv- to fathom C4 { charity of her pilence. "And then The. told all—alh even as he at ve) 2 fri nae Ben "2 frainey, nd _cleptnos riniming. volce was perfectly ligel ‘And the girt latened, lips ©... clenched on teeth, Pr rey (To Be Continued.) Spe “2 oe “@ GOING AWAY FOR THE SUMMER? Remember The Eve- ning World prints each week a complete up-to-date novel —@ week's reading! Have The Eve- ning World sent to your sum ows ~ Aste .