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tie, (established 18S0. I OL.XLVIUNo.34 | Oldest Newspaper in the Wyoming Valley. PITTSTON, LUZERNE COUNTY, PA., FRIDAY, APRIL 8, 1898. A Weekly Local and Family Journal. J oo h V«*a in Advance "An Army Wife," not poured into Harriet's astonished £ & & ears! doubting that of young McLane's dj'ing statement, witnessed by the officers from Sedgwick. He declared his mother alive. And so one crime led to another. No sooner had they reached California than the whole Perkins family seemed resurrected, and blackmail was their business. The eldest sister demanded heavy hush-mouey, and it was paid. The second sister turned up with her husband and a preposterous demand. It was they who haunted him at the San Francisco club, and the man, drunk and triumphant, insolently demanding money that night, had fired that well-nigh fatal shot when repudiated, defied, and struck. The very next day at their hotel came a letter warning them to silence as to the identity of the assailants. So long as these latter were allowed to escape arrest they would keep the secret, but if arrested and brought to trial they would proclaim McLane a bigamist. All this was made known to Uncle Mellen, and he, too, backed the niece's cause and kept up the deception. But no one could tell where the first wife was hidden. "She will be product] when needed, and her money must be paid through her sister." The money, a large sum, was paid, and then there was temporary peace. But Mc- Lnne drooped and died under the weight of shame and anxiety. There was quarreling between the widow and the guardian and further demands from those cormorants, who now openly threatened to claim the dead man's estate for the widow and her son—they, at least, knew nothing of the latter's death; ay d then Fanny, coming to Sedgwick, tried to reassert her old sovereignty over Merriam and to gain possession of the papers of which her husband had told her and which Randy had long since sent to Parry, but concerning which never spoken to her brother-in-law, believing him to be ignorant of their existence; and it pleased Ned Parry to let her live on in ignorant that he had them. He took • curious interest in making a study of her, and had, without consulting his client, a more than professional inter-, eat in the case. as possible between the post and himself. He know he could get another horse at Jose's, so Brown Dick was nexer spared an instant. At three o'clock, galloping free, the gallant horse was stretching away northwestward over the low, roiling earth-waves that seemed to spread to the very lap of the Mescalero, spanning the horizon toward the setting sun. Far behind him, the scattered ranches and the sparse green foliage of the Santa Clara. Far away on either hand, the lumpy, sandy barren, dotted everywhere with little dull-hued tufts of coarse herbage or stunted sage. Ahead of him the tortuous. twisting, dusty trail, dented with scores of hoof-prints. the tracks ot But Mrs. Hayne only sobbed the more. How could she tell him? Yet it hod to be. * trade her peace with her lover lord, and wept gallons of salt tears as she told him how wicked—wicked—wicked she had been, and how penitent she was and how severely punished, though never so severely as she deserved. She would listen to no condoning words of Mrs. Haj'ne. She flung herself into her father's arms when, white-faced and ten years aged, he reached her at the ranch, and told him what a fiend she bad been and what an angel Randy—a statement the captain could not entirely indorse, for he went back to the cantonment at the end of the week confident still that there must have been something in Randy's conduct to undermine the faith of such an unusual girl as his Brownie. But he did not say so— it would have done no good. And her story was very simple. Rearing the ranch early in the first after- Strained from Its ravings and incoherences and straightened out in chronological order, the story resolved itself into this: John Harold McLane was a southern sympathizer as a young man, and went to California during the war, provided with a liberal allowance and an opportunity of embarking in business. At Sacramento he fell into the clutches of a notorious household. "Old man Perkins" had three handsome daughters and a scheming wife. The mother's aim was to marry those girls to wealthy men, and she had succeeded as to two of them, and McLane fell a viAim to the plot and was married to third. A son, John H., Jr., was born to them in June, '67, and trouble of every kind followed. The sisters had quarreled with their respective lords, one of whom had abandoned his wife and gone to Japan, while the other, even more desperate, had gone, self-directed, to his grave. McLane's home people refused to recognize any of the Perkins stock and cut off the young fellow's allowance. Old man Perkins, therefore, had three married daughters and one son-in-law on hi hands and pandemonium reigned within hia gates. He had to order the eldest daughter out of the house, and she revenged herself by eloping with a man who deserted wife and children to run away with this magnificently handsome creature, a thing he mourned in sackcloth and ashes until, his money vanishing, she ran off with another victim and left him poor indeed, yet vastly better off than when he had her. "God grant it," she cried. "God grant it! But, oh, my friend, we've had a dreadful fright! Capt. Grafton's men struck an Apache trail yesterday, and they are following it fast as they can go at this moment." BY CHAPTER XIV. Captain Charles Jfing, Tl.S.jt. the wretched woman tossed upoji the bed the note she had taken from among the others on the mantel, and, shouting for a light, Merriam tore open the envelope, while the Chinaman, nerveless and obedient to the master's will, threw open tlhe shutters. But Grafton lhad graver work ahead, nd it was close at band. Punctilious ildier that he was, he would leave no Dopbole for the possible criticism of a uperior. Hurriedly writing a few lines o Col. Buxton notifying him that thr . agon bringing Merriam was now close And with that announcement vanished all thought of further rest for him. Bidding the two troopers saddle anything on four legs that could carry them, he sprang forth into the still and radiant night and was astride his mongrel mount in a twinkling. In vain Mrs. Hayne came out and pleaded with him; Merriam would listen to nothingnothing but tidings of Florence. It was barely eight o'clock when, fully armed, the little party rode swiftly away under the northward stars, following an old trail that led to the upper foothills of the Mescalero. They were not half an hour gone when a sergeant and two men rode in from the west, inquiring for Dr. Gould and Mrs. Hayne. They were three of Grafton's men sent back from the chase to say they were hot on the trail. There were five Apaches afoot and one shod horse—so the traces told infallibly. Florence, then, was probably bound a prisoner on that horse, and Grafton would recapture her or lose every horse and man in the attempt.[Copyright 1896, by F. Tennyson Neely.] Sorely puzzled. Mrs. Grafton baa to leave her once in awhile for a few minutes at a time to consult her husband, who could frequently be heard moving about the parlor or going quickly In and out of the house. It was plain that Gr3fton was troubled about something besides Randy, and at 11 o'clock the explanation came. "Also sleeping," said Mrs. Grafton. "I don't see how people can sleep so soundly at such times," whereat the doctor looked conscious but said nothing.In the next minute Randy had read the page, with staring, throbbing i D the garrison, and that, as arranged stween them, he would meet it at the ite, he sent the note by his servant and istened up the row to tlhe angle •rmed by the south and west fronts, here an opening had been left in the ;nce for the convenience of riding arties; and it was through this gap that poor Randy was presently trundled »nd then down alODg the line to his own loorway. By this time tlhe pain in his strained and stiffened leg was intense, while the arm, hurriedly but skillfully Iressed when far afield, was troubling aim but little. His one thought all the way had been for Florence. He bad insisted on scribbling her a little note before they reached the Santa Clara, just to tell he was all right; ttbat there was notlhing to worry about, and all he needed was a few days of her nursing. The docor gave it to one of the men and gravely bade him ride ahead and give it to Mrs. Merriam, and the trooper bad duly handed it in at the door, where Hop Ling received it with bis customary grin, and stowed It aw»y on the mantel in the now deserted parlor where notes and cards had generally been displayed for the eyes of the young mistress. then fairly ordered her from the i and dazed, yet terrified at the effete of her announcement, she crept into Florence's room and threw herself into a chair, moaning and rocking to and fro. Like a madman Merriam was up and tearing about, issuing rapid orders to the servant, his lameness all forgotten, and Hop, awed and dismayed, dared disobey him in nothing. Qruiekly he dressed his master, pulling on lightrlding breeches and leggings instead of the cavalry scouting rig, and carefully drawing a hunting shirt over the cripp'.ed arm that In its sling and bandages was now bound close to the body. It seemed to take no time at all to get him dressed, yet Merriam fumed and raged, and then limped forth into the hall, bidding Hop go saddle Brown Dick at once. Grafton's troop on its way to the rescue. By this time Randy was burning with thirst, but the water in his canteen was warm and nauseating. He raised the felt-covered flask to his lips from time to time and rinsed his mouth and moistened his parching throat, but that did not allay the craving. He had still 30 miles to go before he could reach Jose's and exchange Brown Dick for a broncho, and have Dr. Gould renew the dressing of his wounded arm. He knew that Florence had failed to appear there, but he knew her pltiiSlTSinT Spirit, and believed he knew the reason— that there might be sojourners there either from the Catamount or from the post who would seek to turn her back or hold her there; and he knew that in her overwrought* half-maddened state she was starving for her mother's petting and her father's arms. He knew her so well that any attempt to dissuade her now would result, he felt assured, only in frantic outburst and more determined effort to push ahead. All that morning people strained their eyes and rubbed their binoculars and searched the distant foothills to the northwest, hoping for the coming of couriers with news; but not until afternoon were they rewarded. Then, covered with sweat and dust, a corporal of Grafton's troop rode in. Dr. Gould and Mrs. Hayne were still at Jose'a, though they feared they could be of no use there, for not a sign of Florence had been found. Grafton had sent couriers on to the Catamount with the tidings of her peril, and his men, in wide dispersed order, were scouring the foothills long days' marches away. Full half an hour the ladies grouped at Buxton's, listening to the soldiers' description of their search, and then were strolling homeward when, over toward the west end of the cavalry line, arose the sound of commotion and distress. Up to sundown Florence—Mrs. Merriam—had not been seen or heard of at Jose'a ranch. One of the trailers, Rafferty by name declared that Mignon'a tracks turned suddenly to the northward and led away from the ranch and into the maze of foothills to the right of the cantonmeni trail. At sundown they had reached Jose's, still hoping against hope thai she would be there, but no aign of het had been seen, and, borrowing a fresh horse, Rafferty started back to Sedgwick at the gallop to carry the news. Ht met the doctor with Mrs. Hayne only a short distance from Jose's, and they went on to the ranch hoping for bettei tidings, but bade him ride for SedgD wick with all speed. Rafferty could ride week in and week out if the horse oould stand it, and Jose's broncho wai a used-up quadruped by the time they reached the Santa Clara. There he turned him into a ranchman's corn# and borrowed another, never stopping to say "by your leave, sir." This was on the queen's service in Rafferty's mind, and no man's property was sacred when "Miss Florence's" life was involved. Buxton was up and about when the courier came, and in ten minutes had reached the office and sent for Grafton. What be wished to know was, bad she any reason whatever for turning away from the beaten track and taking to the unknown regions off the road and far to the northwest of the settlements? Grafton knew of none. There was indeed grave reason why she should not. And if that night was one of dread and dejection at the ranch, what must it have been to Merriain, reeling and well-nigh exhausted, yet riding grimly, desperately forward through the long hours, searching vainly, vainly under the wan moonlight, even along into the pallid dawn, for that little cleft in the foothills Floy had named "Mon Abri." Faint and shimmering the daybeams came at last, and then, and not until then, Murdock, a faithful trooper, now riding by his lieutenant's side and supporting him with his arm, turned to his comrade, who, dismounted, was striving with the aid of a match or two to study some hoof-prints they had found in the soft surface. "Jimmy," he whispered, "there's something moving along that ridge yonder—coming this way. What is it?" At sound of his halting footsteps in the ball, she had once more roused herself to action, her own weight of care and trouble urging her on. "Randy," she crie'J. "for God's sake answer me! Are you sure—are you sure—was there no other statement? no other paper? Did he persist to the last that his moth- Q«tti«r*Cl JUndy*a head on h«r McLane's wife was the beat of the three in disposition, but that waa saying little, and when all him money was gone they fairly kicked him out of doors, and he, in desperation, drifted to Nevada and the mines, just in the daya when colossal fortunes were being made by men who were wielding pick and shovel. At the very time old Perkins' people were trying to get a divorce, alleging desertion and failure to support, McLane loomed up at Virginia City as part owner of a lode that paid like the Comstock, and bis Sacramento wife, who was believed to be deeply in love with a steamboat engineer, proved that she wasn't by Journeying to Virginia City with her little boy aud reclaiming her now prosperous husband. There they lived in style, and the l'erkins household came to visit them and remained indefinitely, until the bickering drove McLane mad and he "skipped to 'Frisco," where every deal he made in the stock market went his way, and he became a millionaire before he was 30. Again his pretty but low-bred wife followed, and again he honestly tried to make the beat of his bargain; but her mad extravagance and the ceaselesa incursions of mother fcnd sister-in-law were too much for him. One day there came a craah and much of his fortune waa swept away. He had to break up his San Francisco home and go back to Virginia City, and a furious quarrel followed, in which he ordered the Perkinses never to darken his doors again, and lo! his wife sided with her sister and elected to go with them. McLane would gladly have parted with them all, but he had grown to !ove his boy. When once more, a year noon, she saw a party of horsemen riding in toward it, tind in her half-crazed state shs believed them troops from the post Randy's men. So she turned square to the north and rode for the foothills. She had a little store of provisions and some wine in the large saddle-pouch, and only then discovered that her bag was gone. She could ride away round the ranch, find "Mon Abri," and hide there during the night. She had her Navajo blanket. Mignon would have grass and water. What more could army girl ask in that warm and rainless region? Before sunset she had found the romantic little spot, unsaddled and picketed Mignon, and later moved her farther down stream for fresh grass, and, then, wearied, she herself slept for hours; and when she awoke and would have pushed on to the cantonment, lol Mignon was gone. Florence had heard no sound. She could not account for it. She could only sit and brood and think, and then, as the long, long day—the second day—drew to its close, pray heaven for Randy's coming. There, more surely than anywhere else, if he loved her, his love would lead him. An instant later, as the doctor, glancing, turned to hasten thither, a woman dressed in deepest black came reeling forth from the Merriams' doorway and plunging wildly down the steps. Everyone knew her at a glance— It was Fanny McLane, who stood there now swaying at the gate as though gasping for breath, while calling inarticulately for aid. It was but a few seconds before the doctor reached her. They saw him accost her briefly, then go springing past her up the steps and into the bouse. A moment more and Mrs. Grafton, with other women, reached her. Then he had another and even better reason for thinking he could quickly find Mignon's trail, although it might be miles to the north of Jose's. On their return from their latest visit to the Catamount they were having a glorious run with the hounds one lovely November morning, and the jackrabbits led them far out to the north of the road among the buttes and bowlders that clustered about the course of a little stream, barely a yard wide anywhere, that rippled out from among the foothills only to be lost in the sands of the desert to the east. One vigorous old rabbit, close followed by the hounds, had tacked suddenly and darted up this narrow valley, and Floy and Mignon, all excitement, darted after him, while Randy, guiding Brown Dick behind, watched with fond, proud eyes his young wife's graceful, fearless riding. Far up toward the head of the brook poor jack had been tossed in air by the pointed muzzle of hia closest pursuer and then pounced upon by the panting hounds, and Randy found that they were in a little amphitheater among the buttes—found the little spring in which the streamlet had its birth, and there they dismounted and unsaddled and let the horses roll; and here they took their luncheon, and had a happy, loving hour, all alone with the horses and hounds in this little world of their own; and Floy had named the spotr-a fond, foolish little caprice, perhaps, and vowed that it waa to be her refuge by-and-by. "This is where I am coming to build my lonely cloister one of these days, when you grow weary of me, air," she had laughingly said. And now, as he plied spurs to Dick's heaving sides, Randy wondered, wondered whether it might not be that she had made that wide detour around Jose's purposely to find and revisit that romantic little nook and there pour out her grief to the solitude of the silent foothills. er was alive?" "Mrs. McLane," was the answer, "you forced me to tell you the truth. I did all I could to keep it—and to keep mvself from you. but you would have it." And now as they neared the familiar •pot, poor Randy would sit up. It would never do to come before her eyes prostrated as though sorely hurt. Anything to spare her needless shock or worry. He even essayed a semi-jocular "how are you, old man?" as he caught sight of Grafton, and tried a smile and a wave of his hand to the ladies who appeared on the seiM hernmost porch of the infantry lines. "Oh, Randy, Randy!" she cried. "You are heartless! You are brutal, vindictive! You are punishing me because I so cruelly wronged you. But what did I ever do to you compared with what you have done to me? Oh, why, if you ever loved me, why could you not have destroyed that lying paper that is to rob me of my name, my rights, rob me of everything?" But now Bullock, the man who shot McLane, bad been traced to and arrested in Chicago, together with his dashing helpmeet. Uncle Mellen had been prostrated by paralysis as a re- of the news. The secret could be no longer kept, and Fanny McLane, hunted, desperate, self-deluded, and •elf-drugged, believed herself a ruined woman when at last Ned Parry came. "What is the matter? What has happened, Fanny? Why are you here?" And cowering, sobbing, shivering, she made answer: And though soft the whisper it caught poor Randy's drowsy ear, and he strove to straighten up in saddle. "What? Where?" he faintly asked. "Why, you look as though you'd had a worse tussle than I, captain." he laughed painfully, as he held out his hand. "How is Florence? It hasn't frightened her much, has it? I hope Mrs. Hayne's been with her." "Oh, stop him! save him I He'll kill himself. I—told him his wife was gone." "Yonder, sir, not half a mile away. It's some of our fellows, or I'm a duffer. Yell to 'em, Jimmy." "Hush!" he answered, leaning heavily against the balustrade. "1 rode "She's been a good deal troubled, of course," answered Grafton, gravely, "but—but Mrs. Hayne is—bringing her round all right. I think. How are yon, old man? You did have a ridel" For 60 miles northward the Santa Clara twined and twisted through a fairly fertile valley, once the herding ground of the Navajos, now wild and almost unsettled. Americans and Mexicans both had tried it as a stock range, but American cattle and American horses demanded a better quality of grass and more of it than would serve the stomach of the Indian pony. Treaty obligations sent the Navajos farther Into the mountain* to the northwest— beyond the Mescalero—but there were restless roam era who were conatantly off the reservation, sometimes on pass but ofteuer on mischief, and on the pretext of trading they came recklessly as far aa the settlement, and then somebody's horses were sure to be missing, spirited away into the foothills, whither it was almost useless to follow. The Navajos said the Mexicans were the thieves, the Mexicans declared them to be the Navajos, and when both parties were caught and accused, with prompt unanimity both announced that Apaches must again be raiding, and the name of Apache covered a multitude of sins. Time was when Victorio and Nana led the cavalry some glorious chases into the Mescalero, but both those redoubtables had met their fate, and agency officials across the Arizona line were ready to swear that none of their once intractable followers ever thought of quitting corn or melon planting for the forbidden joys of the raid and the warpath. All the same the foothills and the valley far to the northwest of the settlements were full of mystery and danger—the roaming ground of the horsethief and the renegade, and Merriam's men, just in from their long chase, pointed out how the Mexican ruffians, though starting originally toward the southwest, had in long wide circuit gradually worked their way northward, as though making for this very region. The leader of the gang that shot Brady and Corcoran was a fellow by the najpe of Ramon Valdes, and there was no deviltry too steep for him. The news, therefore, that Florence Merriam had not reached Jose's, but that her trail was lost somewhere among the butte* and bowlders four miles to the eastward of that frontier refuge. struck dismay to the hearts of her friends at Sedgwick. The tidings went from lip to lip. from house to house, like wildfire, and by midnight an entire troop had ridden forth with their ever ready three days' rations, and with Capt. George Grafton in oomma and their orders were not to return without Mrs. Merriam or definite news of her. Too late. Out to the stable the doctor chased, for bed and room were deserted. There, wildly gesticulating and pointing to the open mesa, was Hop Ling. "He makee my saddle—he makee lide—he allee gone!" be wailed, pointing to where, far to the west, a puff of dust cloud was swiftly vanishing down into the valley of the Santa Clara. Too ill to see him, she Beemed at least relieved to know he had come, and that night in Grafton's parlor he sat gravely listening to Harriet's recital of what Fanny had detailed to her, making no comment, but taking it all in, when, just at tattoo, a trooper dismounted at the gate and bore to Mra. Grafton a brief missive from her husband. It was written that morning nearly 20 miles northwest of Jose's And obedient to the word Jimmy yelled. Over the rolling surface the soldier's voice went ringing through the dawn, and echo sent it clattering back from the buttes and bowlders to the west. "This way, you fellers!—this nay!" he cried, and then, mounting, clapped spurs to his pony and sputtered away down the intervening swale. But now Randy was peering out along the row—their own row. Women were to be seen here and there along the verandas, gazing sympathetically toward the slowly moving party, but no feminine form was visible on the piazza of his little home. What days of jubilee there were at Sedgwick when at last Randy was convalescent enough to be moved, and the ambulance brought him back through the same old hole in the fence, Florence seated by his side. Another patient was out on a piazza farther down the row, taking the sweet fresh air and listening languidly to the purring of Minturn, who still worshiped at the shrine deserted by Whittaker. Undeniably sallow looked the Widow Mc- Lane, and her eyes gazed but languidly at the joyous little cortege entering the westward end of the road. Capt. and Mrs. Grafton, the Haynes, and other sympathizing friends had flocked thither to welcome the fugitives, and so it happened that there was no one at home but Mrs. McLane and a much perturbed young battery officer to greet two somewhat dusty civilians, who had just driven out from the junction, and now slowly ascended the Grafton's steps. One — Mr. Parry— came jauntily forward. The other—a mutton-chop whiskered, plethoriclooking party—bung reverentially back, as though waiting permission to venture into the presence of a queen. With swift, anxious, imploring glance the invalid searched the impassive features of her exasperating brother-inlaw and read no hope; but even from the depth of her despond sprang something of her old-time coquetry as she languidly lay back in the easy-chair and extended a slender, bejeweled hand to the adoring Swinburne. The batterymau bowed stiffly and nulled at hi* mustache in recognition of this new arrival, and Ned Parry almost audibly chuckled his enjoyment of the situation. Then stable call sounded and drew the warrior away and left the 4eld in the hands of the civilian, and then Parry decided he must "join the gang" at Merriam's; and there presently he was patting Randy on the back and showing symptoms of a desire to kiss Mrs. Randy's hand, as he did Mrs. Grafton's. Mrs. Grafton hurried out, declaring 6he must go and order more dinner, whereat Parry followed her to the gate and called a halt. She saw the twinkle in his eyes andr.topped. Ten minutes later Randy Merriam was lying on the ground in a swoon, and George Grafton, with grave, sad face, well-nigh as haggard as the lieutenant's, was bending over him and striving to force some brandy down his throat. Following "for all they were worth" the Apache trail, they had overhauled the supposed marauders not 20 miles back in the foothills—a pacific hunting-party, provided with the agency pass and safeguard, and culpable only in that they had come too far and had picked up on the plains an American horse, abandoned at sight of them by some Mexicans who galloped far a%vay; nnd that American horse, minus saddle and bridle, was Floy's pretty bay mare, Mignon. CHAPTER XV. Just about noon, when the hospital attendant was away at dinner, the doctor at Buxton's and Whittaker getting a nap after his night of vigil, only Hop Ling was on duty over Randy. "He'll probably sleep until late in the afternoon," the doctor said, when he looked La at 11, and so perhaps he might have done. Grafton, before starting, had taken the responsibility of removing Florence's ominous looking missive and placing it with other letters on the mantel in the little parlor. He could not feel justified in hiding it entirely. "Better lie back, Mr. Merriam," urged the doctor. "Try to make him do so," he murmured to Grafton. "We've got to get him quiet in his room before we let him know anything." Already the anxious young physician bad been told that Mrs. Merriam was probably SO miles away, and his soul was wrung at the thought of what that would mean to his patient. ranch. "You must prepare Merriam for the worst," it aaid. "There ia reason to be- " I-told him hla wilt vu son*." night and day. We sent the swiftest courier we had—to save your honor—to stop that marriage—" "But you didn't stop it! You were loo late!" she cried. "And when you uw it was too late, instead of burning those papers or giving them to me— you held them that you might triumph over my ruin. Then when you knew I was coming to beg for them, you were a coward, Randy—you sent them all to Ned Parry, that my own sister might (float over my downfall." later, fortune smiled on him, and, with a new bank account, he came down to San Francisco, the Perkinses had disappeared. Two of the aiaters were living the lives of adventuresaea. Old Perkina was dead and buried, and no one knew where the rest had gone—a hoat of Sacramento tradeamen wiahed they could find out. "Yes, lie down, Randy, till we get you Indoors," urged Grafton. "We've had to put up a game on Mrs. Randy—(God forgive me the lie." he prayed). "Knowing bow anxious you were and we were lest she should be shocked, we—kept her away. Mrs. Hayne and Dr. Gould are looking out for her. She's not to be allowed to come near you till we get you safe and sound and bathed and all fixed up in bed. Of course we know now. Randy—we didn't before, but Mrs. Hayne had tp tell my wife how careful we have to be of her—now, and really, old boy, she oughtn't to see you till you're washed and dressed You look tough. Randy." He felt that when Merriam woke the truth would have to be told him, and perhaps Florence's own words might best explain her flight. At ail events Dr. Leavitt had promised to be on hand to see that the news was not too abruptly broken, and Leavitt counted on a long sleep and upon subsequent drowsiness and languor as the result of his treatment. No one had dreamed of the possibility of such-rude awakening as came. No woman in her right senses would have ventured on the madbrained, desperate measure resorted to by Mrs. McLane. What she hoped to learn, what she expected to gain, what papers or information she still believed him to possess, who can say? The power of reasoning, driven from her by the stupefying drug that of late had overmastered its weak and willing victim, seemed to have utterly gone, leaving In its placc only something of the craft and cunning that possess the insane. Nq sooner was Mrs. Grafton out of the way, than, rousing suddenly, Fanny had summoned Annette, had hastened through her toilet, and, barely sipping the coffee tendered her, had thrown s light wrap over her head and shoulders and flitted out of the house, out past the stable at the rear, and, to the amaze of the sentry on No. 2, had scurried away along the fence, had easily located the Merriams' gate, the number on which corresponded with that of their quarters, and in another moment had let herself through the kitchen and dining-room apd into the little parlor. There for a few moments she seemed to bavtf paused and reconnoitered. Then where in heaven's name was she? "Mrs. McLane," he interrupted, "this is all unjust, all untrue. Ask Mr. Parry when he comes, as come he probably irill. But tbis end£ our meetings. God forbid that I should ever see you alone agaiu! It has driven from me my wife —the wife I love and love devotedly— do you hear?—and I'm going now to find her." Then McLane came east, bringing hia •heaves with him, and his family not unnaturally forgave and welcomed him. Prosperity followed him. fie fairly coined money, and Uncle Abe Mellen was only too glad to have him as a partner; and then after a lapse of years, when he thought her dead and honestly wished her so, his blissful bachelor life was broken in upon by the reappearance of his Sacramento wife, now a handsome woman of nearly 40, and a stalwart stripling whom he recognized at once as his long-lost son. For two years he provided for her and tried to educate the boy, but never again acknowledged her as hia wife, and so long as she was amply paid and housed, lodged and cared for, she never protested. Mac's club frienda sC me times winked and nudged each other when the tall young fellow appeared at the waiting-room with a letter, or when occasionally a dashinglooking woman patroled the neighborhood until he would come out and join her. The boy was wild and wouldn't study, and was expelled from the schools at whioh he was entered by the name of Perkins, and the landlords complained of the people Mra. Perkins At five o'clock Brown Dick was black with sweat and dust and streaked with foam, but still pressed gamely on, and Randy, with white, set face, in which deep lines of pain and weariness were graving, gazed fixedly ahead with burning, fevered eyes, conscious that strength was failing him and praying for the first sight of those dun adobe walls of Jose's sheltering ranch. It was some minutes before Merriam revived. Then he strove to stagger to his feet, but fell helplessly back. It was nearly broad daylight, but the sun was still below the distant Guadaloupe. Gathering his feeble energies, Handy strove to describe the little cove and to implore Grafton to bear him thither, and was interrupted by an eager sergeant, who said: "We passed just such a brook, sir, not a mile back. Shall I take half-a-dozen men and follow it i:p?" JL briaf mlMlv* from h«r husband. lieve poor Florence has fallen into the handa of a little band of Apaches. The aign is unmistakable and we are just atarting in pursuit." And though the face he longed to see as they bore him up the steps was miles and miles away. Merriam stifled his own disappointment and bravely thanked them. "God bless you and Mrs. Grafton! That was indeed thoughtful of you, old boy," he gasped, for pain was wrenching him, and he gave a long, long sigh of relief when at last he was lifted from the stretcher to a bed in the spa reroom.And then he broke away. Out to the stable he staggered; love, pity, devotion urging him on and triumphing over the still numbing effect of the deadening drug whose languorous Bpell he had never known before; and Brown Dick whinnied hie welcome and impatience, and Hop Ling whimpered his "pidgin" protests, even as he was 'cinching" on Merriam's field saddle with its well-stocked pouches. Randy fiercely ordered ftilence, bade the Chinaman give him a hand, and then, with Just at seven o'clock of the early winter'seveningthedenizensof Jose's heard the thud of horse's hoofs at the gate and the hail of a feeble voice. Jose's wife at that moment was in half-tearful talk with Mrs. Ilayne, who from dawn till dark had been on watch—hoping against hope for tidings of Florence, and who now, wearied with long vigil and well-nigh worn out with anxiety, was lying down in search of sleep. Gould, veteran soldier and surgeon that he was, could' no longer bear the suspense and inaction at the ranch, fie had borrowed one of Jose's horses, and. with a half-breed Mexican for guide, had ridden away at dawn, hoping to strike Grafton's trail and follow him Into the mountains, whither he was supposed to have ridden in pursuit of the Apaches. Gould was a skeptic. He said he didn't believe a dozen Apaches were off their reservation, fie didn't believe half a dozen had ventured over the New Mexican line, and if any had he was willing to bet a month's pay they were not hostile. This was comforting to Mrs. Hayne, but Jose's people were not so easily cured of their conviction. By the time the rumor reached the ranch, brought in by stampeded herdsmen, no one of whom had seen ar. Indian, but each of whom could tell tremendous tales of their doings in the valley, it was declared that at least 5C of Victorio's old band were raiding the Santa Clara and might be expected to assault Jose's at any moment. The corral was filled, therefore, with scraggy cow ponies and swarthy men, ant* the sight of an officer, one-armed, pal lid, exhausted, reeling earthward from an equally exhausted steed, was all that was necessary to complete the panic. Over half the Mexicans present made a mad rush for the subterranean refugr known as the "dug-out," and but for a couple of troopers who had put into Jose's with lamed and useless horses Handy would have gone headlong to tin ground. They caught him just in time and bore him inside the ranch, where the sight of his death-like face drove Jose almost frantic. But the troopers kuew what to do for their officer and speedily brought him round, and when be asked for Dr. Could they told him of l»fc» going, and Bandy's next demand was for coffee and a fresb horse. CHAPTER XVI. "Yes. at once," said Grafton, "and I'll go, too. Stay here. Randy." Indeed, the caution was not needed, for Merriam was past moving now, poor fellow, and his head sank helplessly back upon the soldier's supporting arm. And then they rode away, Grafton and half-a-dozen of his men, with Mignon, leg weary and reluctant, trailing behind. And meantime the troop dismounted and set about making coffee, while one orderly rode back on the trail to summon Dr. Gould, jogging wearily a mile behind. And presently the doctor came and knell by liandy's side and scolded through his set teeth, even while he skillfully stripped away the hunting-shirt and so reached the shattered arm. Late that anxious night one battalion of the rifiers returned to Sedgwick. Hayne's company one of the four, and very grave he looked when told of the events of the past 48 hours. Acting on the report of Capt, Grafton that Apache signa had been found in the foothills north of Jose's, Buxton had ordered another troop to march to reenforce him, and this troop Ilayne obtained permission to accompany. It marched at dawn, so he had barely three hours in which to prepare. Mr. Parry, wearied with his journeying and many cares, bad been escorted to Merriam's vacated quarters by Whlttaker some little time before midnight, and there he was made welcome by Hop Ling and given the room abandoned by the master of the house so short a time before. Many people, between anxiety as to the fate of their beloved Florence and their eagerness to receive the rifiers on their return, sat up until two o'clock; but Parry, though filled with anxiety a* keen, was well aware that nothing was to be gained by his spending a wakeful night and listening to all manner of theory as to the cause of the fair fugitive's sudden deflection from the road to the ranch. Ilayne, therefore, did not meet nor see him, but, as soon as it was light, rode forth ahead of the troop, meuning to go first to Jose's, see his wife and Dr. Gould, and then strike out northward, confident of meeting the second troop somewhere in the opp.. country that there spread for miles before him. But that sigh fu a faint whisper as compared with the long, long breath that Grafton drew, as he sat him down hi the adjoining room and mopped his streaming forehead. Col. Buxton and others—all the officers. almost—felt bound to come to the house between stables and retreat, just to see how R&ndy was getting on, tDut the answer was the same to one and all. No one was to be admitted, for the doc- blurred eyes and senses, with ears atil) drawvsily ringing, be slowly climbed into saddle, hardly missing the customary grip of the left hand in the mane. Then out he rode into the sunshine, Brown Dick bounding with eagerness to search for and rejoin his Stable matt; and then with every stride as he tore away over the mesa Randy felt the cobwebs brushing from bit brain, and hope and determination spurring him on. "You have broken your word and gone to your old love," was the stern message of Florence's brief letter. "I will be no man's fool, no faithless husband's wife. You need not look for roe nor follow, for J will never come to you again." tor was "trying to get him to sleep." And surely enough, bathed, re- received and entertained; then Mac put the young man in Mellen'a bank, and "You've brought her good news, I know," said she, with womanly eagerness.freshed, his arm set and dressed. Randy found himself stowed away in a soft, white bed, but oh, so weak and drowsy after ail the labor of the chase and the long, long day of racking pain. They were to bring Florence to biro pow, his wife, his darling, impatiently waiting for the summons, as he thought her, at Mrs. Hayne's, and he was stretching out his arms to her—his one available arm, rather, and fondly murmuring her name, when the weary eyelids closed and, numb and impotent, he drifted away Into depp, deep slumber "There," said the" doctor, at last, "he'll do now," there he was when the Hay ward nieces came back from Europe, and Charlotte Then came the glorious sunshine streaming over the Guadaloupe and gilding the westward Mescalero, and then far out among the buttes, one— twC*— three, at regular intervals, the ringing, echoing signals of the cavalry carbine; and rough-garbed troopers sprang to their feet and shouted loud, and clapped ball cartridge into the brown bellies of their guns, and fired unlicensed s.ilvos into the air, and danced and swung their hats, and drew coarse flannel shirt-sleeves across their blinking eyes—all at Sergt. Hogan's jubilant cry: "My God, boys, they've found her!* "More than that," said Tarry, with a comical grin. "More than Fan deserves by a good deal—I've brought the fellow that brings her the news. Nevermind dinner—give him ten minutes." married Ned Parry and Fan wished to marry Merriata. It was J. H. McLane, Jr., who did Uncle Abe's work for him and went around among Merriam's creditors and got them to Unite in their complaint to the war department; but by that time he had seen something qf Randy, had "taken a shine to him," as he expressed it, and when he learned Of what followed only Randy and Uop Ling were witnesses. The latter was never able to explain it, if indeed he ever could understand the situation, and as for Randy, It was long before he could be induced to speak of it at ail. The tim« came when he had to, however, and it can be told now. Mrs. Grafton let her husband go only with deep reluctance. He was very necessary to her now. She felt the need of bis support in the management of her truculent patient. She bad to leave the latter while assisting him In his busy preparations, and she was surprised and rejoiced to see that on her return to fcer funny bad becom? f)»r morec£3pj and resigned. The ladies in many households were still up and flitting about the post, tearfully, forebodingly discussing the situation, and several of tbero had dropped in to speak a word wl»b Mrs. Grafton—Whit taker and Minturn being ever on the alert to escort such parties—and so It was long after one—indeed. It was nearly two o'clock—when at last, after a final peep at her now placidly sleeping gneet and leaving Annette curled up on the sofa by ber mistress' bedside. Mrs. Grafton finally sought her own pillow and slept long Into the sunshine of the following day. "Oh, how did you get at the truth?" "I didn't—I couldn't. They were shy of me as though I'd been a Pinkerton. I knew Swinburne was sore-smitten. I knew he'd blow in his whole bank account if peed be. I told him the story and my suspicions, and set him to work. He found the engineer and got the proofB. She owes her deliverance to him." Another time pride, anger and sense of wrong might have held bis hand, but Sot now- Apd before that half-crazed, alf-cringing woman could give the alarm. Randy Merrlam was riding fast and furious to join the pursuit, thinking only of her suffering and her sorrow, all ignorant, mercifully, of the new peril that Involved his precious wile. He was half asleep, half awake, In «»#t helplessly lethargic state that that Merrlam had been banished to the frontier ns a consequence be told the old man that he was done with that Bort of dirty work, and was minded to go and confess to Miss Hayward what he had done. To buy him off Mellen gave him all the money he needed and bade him go and live the life always longed to lfve, that of a prospector and miner in the Sierras. McLane, the father, was away and had been away for several months. Mrs. McLane. the mother, after a furious quarrel with seems to possess most temperaments after subjection to the infl uence of morphine. Hewasconsciousofnopain.no soreness, conscious of nothing but thai longing for the coming of Florence and a wondering as to the time of nigtot or day. He remembered half opening bis eyes and seeing Hop blinking in an easyrhair by the bedside, and then noticed that it fras in the spare room—the guest room—he was lying, and he thought it must be neardawn, for the shutters and shades were drawn, yet a dim light'was shining through. He thought Florrie mrust be in her room, the front room, and he was just thinking of calling }o the servant and routing him. when" he heard the swift pit-a-pat of ligtot footsteps in the ball, a swish of skirts, and, stretching out bis arm, he called aloud: "Florence, darling!" and the next minute a woman's form was at hif bedside and he started up. rubbing his eyes, amaaed, startled, believing perhaps that he was still dreaming, for tlhere, with trembling, outstretched hands, Fanny McLane, "Aye," murmured Orafton, "but what will the waking be if there's no Florence here to-morrow?" Found her they had, indeed, curled ujD like a child, wrapped in her own pet Navajo blanket, sleeping the sleep of utter exhaustion, and waking only to burst into tears of relief and joy at sight of Grafton's radiant yet haggard face; then roused to instant action by the tidings he bore and gently, but reproachfully, told her — that, though sorely wounded and well-nigh exhausted, it was Randy who guided the rescuers to her, and who now lay prostrate and unconscious barely a mile away. Then she could hardly wait for them to saddle Mignon—could hardly urge her laboring favorite fast enough to roateh her mad impatience. It was a sight to move a heart of flint to see her, as with streaming eyes and convulsive sobs she threw herself from her saddle, and, reckless of them all, knelt and gathered Randy's unconscious head to her bosom, cooing over him, crying' over him, praying over him, begging for one word of love and pardon, then showering tears and kisses on his pallid lips. There was no crime of which the poor child did not accuse herself, for on their hurried way Grafton grave- I3' told her of Randy's utter innocence and of his own culpability. Not until the radiant 6un was nearly an hour high did their patient seem to respond to stimulant or caress; but at last, to her wild joy, he opened his eyes a little moment, looked up in her face, whispered: "Florence — sweetheart," and then seemed to drop away into resistless slumber. "Then it was as you thought—as you told Capt. Grafton?" "Certainly. Mrs. McLane No. 1 died two months after she got her $25,000, but the family couldn't afford to lose so fruitful a member. They had read and written each others' letters from childhood. Either surviving sister could write just as well as t'he youngest. They planned the game; they fooled McLane completely, and they as completely deceived poor young .lack, Vhe only reputable connection they had. Fan's all right now, thanks to Swinburne. Let him be happy for ten minute—she'll make him miserable the rest of his life. Let's go back and look at a picture of absolute bliss—Floy Merriam's face. Isn't she an ideal army wife?" That was an anxious night at Sedgwick. Merriam slept like the dead, and twice tbe young doctor feared it might be necessary to rouse him, thinking that perhaps be had sent that tiny shot of his hypodermic syringe with too heavy a charge. But so long as Randy was Ignorant of W» wife's mad e*oa pade he would have slept through sheer exhaustion and weariness, and his physician need not bave troubled bimself. Twice Grafton tiptoed in, and the hospital attendant arose at his coming and reported that the patient bad not stirred. It was vain for Dr. Leavitt to heap ibrprecation on the head of that hapless Chinaman, implicit obedience to the will of his master was the only creed Hop Ling observed. "Mellium say dless and catchum saddle and flask and lunch"—that was enough. "Mellium fray lide an* catchum Missee Mellium," and Hop Ling wasn't fool enough to interfere,Buxton had sent a party on the trail of Merriam within an hour of his dash and with orders tQ bring him back to the post, blU they had not been heard from since their start, "and," said Whittaker, "they're not likely to be. Those fellows barely ride one mile to Bandy's two. It's my belief he will just pull up at Jose'g and then go straight on to the foothills, as probably she did." her protector something Qver * year before, had agreed to, return to California apd never trouble him again upon payment of a big, round sum in cash. She would not listen to a pension, and the siory that came to the ears soon nfter was that at last his Sacramento wife had rewarded the fidelity of Awakening with a start at the soniul of stirring music on the parade, she (onnfl that |t was after eight and guard mounting was In full blast. 8ummoiking a servant, her first question was for news of Mrs. Merriam, for servants always know the garrison news before their masters. Not a word had been received. PrwnMy she tiptoed to Fanny's room, softer turned the knob, and noiselessly entered. There lay her guept still plunged in deep slumber, but Annette had disappeared, gone, probably, to the kitchen for poCTee. Par over (it the east, where the railway crossed the barren mesa, a locomotive whistle broke the silence of the desert with long, exultant blast. The blockade then was broken. The first train was coming in from Cimarron. Dressing with greater haste than usual, she ordered breakfast served, and then went out on the piazza and looked up the row toward the Merriams*. The doctor was Just coming out of the gate, and Whittaker, who had spent the night there on watch—ell thought of rivalry forgotten—was standing on the top step, apparently detaining the physician with some question. Eager for news of Randy, Mrs. Grafton threw her husband's cavalry B\it if Dr. LeavKt had lost one patient, Fate had provided him with another. He wnB needed at once at Grafton's, and, tarrying only long enough report to Button the escape of Lieut. Merriam, he hastened to the bedside pf Mrs. now in sore need of medical attention. But Uandy was having: a ride the like of which was not recorded iu the annals of Fort Sedgwick since the days when, long before ihe war, the First Dragoons and the Navajos battled for the master* ship of the Santa Clara. Ignorant as yet of the report Q1 Apaches io the foothill* pf the Mescalero, his one theory was tbut she had gone to Jose's, Intending from there to push ot\ to the cantonment. The thought of her daring so lpng bo hard a ride ai a time when she should be guarded with the utmost care was in itself a source of dire distress to him. and be could hardly bave speeded faster and with grimmer determination to defy all pain or weariness had he dreamed of the deadly perils that lurked about her path. Of the fact that Valdez and his few followers bad eventually fled northward and across the road Catamount he hat! beard nothing. Through Hop Ling's chatter he had gathered that Grafton and his men were gone in search of Florence and that Mrs. Hayne and Dr. Gould were at Jose's. Ue dare not stop to make inquiries at the garrison. lie was under medical carer— therefore under doctor's orders, and on complaint of the acting surgeon it would be perfectly comiietent Jor liuxton to place him q close arrest. His one idea, therefore, was to put as much ground her old friend, the Bteamboat engineer; Over at Grafton's quarters, Jiowever, they had to deal with a less tractable creature. Fanny McLane bad roused from her swoon and was nervously, ex cltably, irritably wide awake, dp manding actually to be allowed to see Mr. Merriam. Even Annette was sent out of the room and Mrs. Grafton had her friend and gitest to herself, and her tears and prayers, her reproaches qnd Imprecations fell on hardened ears. Mrs. Grafton was adamant. but the lawyers sent to trace the m$tt£f were confronted by yn\ooked-far newa —unwelcome uvwa, and therefore news they fully Investigated before report- And while he was sipping the coffee and resting on a bunk in thetnaln room. Mrs. Hayne came hastening in with outstretched bands and eyes still dim with weeping. She was shocked at his haggard appearance. She could only press his hand in silent sympathy and struggle hard to beat back the tears that would have flowed afresh. "You will stay here with us now until Dr. Gould returns," she said. "1 look for him any moment." THE END. Harriet Grafton has been heard to *ay that that afterppon and the night that followed made her ten years older, but her looks do not warrant the statement. Unquestionably she had a hard time, and might have had a much h&i'tler but for the opportune arrival at the post, just before sundown, of the lately blockaded lawyer, Mr. Edward Parry, of Chicago. ing, since, if true, it would put an enc\ to what promised to be a most profitable case. That $2S.,Q00 was practically I wasted—Jobu H. McLane was ' 'lead. They found her heiulstoue aod all, but could get 90 trace of her longj devoted it wns surmised that he ; had taken what was left of the money [ and gone elsewhere in search of consolation. McLnne route back to New ! York, piet Fanny Hayward, fell in love, and Uncle Mellen urged the match in every way; and we know the result. There u fortnight in which McLaue : *temed the happieet of men. Then a shock. Fanny found hi® nearly crazed with trouble. A letter had come I purporting to be from that supposedto-be-dead woman demanding further heavy payment as the prife of her silence. McLane honestly told Fan the truth, and was astonished at her decision. She bade him "pay the money and have done with it." fhey might have doubted the geuujpenesa of her letter, hnt there wm no of toe Globe ior ,f RHEUMATiSM.l I M NEUBAWHA and similar Complaints, I and prepared under tbe stringent U ML GERMAN MEDICAL LftiwS JS prescribed by emine't physicians ■fin OR. RICHTERS fftS [PAIN EXPELLERJ ■ World renowned! Remark;My successful! 1 ■Only (frnofire with Trade Mark " Anchor," ■ ■D. Ad. Wetter 4 vl., 215 Sew York. ■ 1 31 HIGHEST AWARDS. ' j 13 Broach Houses. Own Glassworks, ■ A SSStlAH" Cadoraed A rmwailul bj A o r Glick. 50 N. Ma'n St.: 3 H-4N. Main St.; DR. RICt.TER'S I ANCHOR" BTOMACHAI. W fori i ComMairrnJ "What—where Is my wife?" he gasped. "I thought—why, surely this cannot be you I" "It Is I, Randy," she quavered. "X was In torment-—I could not rest nor deep. I knew you were alone, With no one to care for you." "It is mad folly to talk of such a thing, Fanny," she replied to every as- MAVoneI" he Interrupted. "What C1q you mean? Where is FlorepceD my wife?" Meantime, utterly broken down and ©Vt Pff now, for the first time since her irarriHge, from the soothing and comfort of the perilous drug to the use of which she had become wedded almost from the hour that she met McLpua, poor self-absorbed fanuy was pouring out }ier stftry and her secret in almost incoherent ravings to her hostess. Dr. Leavitt, who hud suspected the cause of her vagariep before, was confident of it when he was called in to prescribe, and quickly found the dainty little case that Grafton had discovered the day before. It was hours before she could be even measurably quieted, and meantime what a tale of shame and woe had she "T? No. indeed. 1 go on at once, as soon as they can saddle a fresh horse for me. She must be more than halfway to the cantonment by this time, if Mignon hasn't given out." sault. "Mr. Merriam is far too seriously injured to see anybody, much less yon, who would importune him for your OWP selfish purposes. Capt. Grafton ■ays the doctor has forbiddep'him to everybody, and be knows. In the morning Capt. Grafton will see him for you, if the doctor will permit." Whereat the widow only stormed the more and declared, with hysteric tears, that they were keeping her away from Randy Merriam out of spite and hatred just at the most critical time. "He'll die, hell die,* she cried, "and carry my on* safeguard with him to the gravel" "You don't (mean—they haven't told you?" she answered. "She (has gone —home to her people. It is supposed. She left two nights ago—that is one reason I am here." And then Mrs. Hayne sobbed aloud. "Oh, Randy, Kandyl Haven't you fcear«J? Floy never regained the road all. The mail carrier from Catamount got in an hour ago and saw nothing whatever of her." "A pretty time we had," said Gould, "getting that pair of spoons back to Jose's!" It was an all-day's joh, between waiting for the ambulance and then finding an easy read for It. But there at Jose's were "the spoons" condemned to stay four days and nights, at least, while the rest of Sedgwick's scouting parties drifted back to the and there presumably Florence But Merriam burst in upon her wailing, half incoherent words. "In God'» name what do you mean? You or I must be mad. Here, Hop, quick I Where are my clothes? Fetch them at once; then go for Capt. Graftop.v "Then I know where to find her," said Randy, promptly, "A lovely spot we visited together hardly a month ago, and 1 could find it easily after moonriae."cape over her shoulders and tripped briskly up the gravel walk. "Still sleeping." said the doctor, "and how is your "I'm not mad," she answered. "Read fchi»—tha letter she left for jou," and
Object Description
Title | Pittston Gazette |
Masthead | Pittston Gazette, Volume 48 Number 34, April 08, 1898 |
Volume | 48 |
Issue | 34 |
Subject | Pittston Gazette newspaper |
Description | The collection contains the archive of the Pittston Gazette, a northeastern Pennsylvania newspaper published from 1850 through 1965. This archive spans 1850-1907 and is significant to genealogists and historians focused on northeastern Pennsylvania. |
Publisher | Pittston Gazette |
Physical Description | microfilm |
Date | 1898-04-08 |
Location Covered | United States; Pennsylvania; Luzerne County; Pittston |
Type | Text |
Original Format | newspaper |
Digital Format | image/tiff |
Language | English |
Rights | http://rightsstatements.org/vocab/NoC-US/1.0/ |
Contact | For information on source and images, contact the West Pittston Public Library, 200 Exeter Ave, West Pittston, PA 18643. Phone: (570) 654-9847. Email: wplibrary@luzernelibraries.org |
Contributing Institution | West Pittston Public Library |
Sponsorship | This Digital Object is provided in a collection that is included in POWER Library: Pennsylvania Photos and Documents, which is funded by the Office of Commonwealth Libraries of Pennsylvania/Pennsylvania Department of Education. |
Description
Title | Pittston Gazette |
Masthead | Pittston Gazette, Volume 48 Number 34, April 08, 1898 |
Volume | 48 |
Issue | 34 |
Subject | Pittston Gazette newspaper |
Description | The collection contains the archive of the Pittston Gazette, a northeastern Pennsylvania newspaper published from 1850 through 1965. This archive spans 1850-1907 and is significant to genealogists and historians focused on northeastern Pennsylvania. |
Publisher | Pittston Gazette |
Physical Description | microfilm |
Date | 1898-04-08 |
Location Covered | United States; Pennsylvania; Luzerne County; Pittston |
Type | Text |
Original Format | newspaper |
Digital Format | image/tiff |
Identifier | PGZ_18980408_001.tif |
Language | English |
Rights | http://rightsstatements.org/vocab/NoC-US/1.0/ |
Contact | For information on source and images, contact the West Pittston Public Library, 200 Exeter Ave, West Pittston, PA 18643. Phone: (570) 654-9847. Email: wplibrary@luzernelibraries.org |
Contributing Institution | West Pittston Public Library |
Sponsorship | This Digital Object is provided in a collection that is included in POWER Library: Pennsylvania Photos and Documents, which is funded by the Office of Commonwealth Libraries of Pennsylvania/Pennsylvania Department of Education. |
Full Text | tie, (established 18S0. I OL.XLVIUNo.34 | Oldest Newspaper in the Wyoming Valley. PITTSTON, LUZERNE COUNTY, PA., FRIDAY, APRIL 8, 1898. A Weekly Local and Family Journal. J oo h V«*a in Advance "An Army Wife," not poured into Harriet's astonished £ & & ears! doubting that of young McLane's dj'ing statement, witnessed by the officers from Sedgwick. He declared his mother alive. And so one crime led to another. No sooner had they reached California than the whole Perkins family seemed resurrected, and blackmail was their business. The eldest sister demanded heavy hush-mouey, and it was paid. The second sister turned up with her husband and a preposterous demand. It was they who haunted him at the San Francisco club, and the man, drunk and triumphant, insolently demanding money that night, had fired that well-nigh fatal shot when repudiated, defied, and struck. The very next day at their hotel came a letter warning them to silence as to the identity of the assailants. So long as these latter were allowed to escape arrest they would keep the secret, but if arrested and brought to trial they would proclaim McLane a bigamist. All this was made known to Uncle Mellen, and he, too, backed the niece's cause and kept up the deception. But no one could tell where the first wife was hidden. "She will be product] when needed, and her money must be paid through her sister." The money, a large sum, was paid, and then there was temporary peace. But Mc- Lnne drooped and died under the weight of shame and anxiety. There was quarreling between the widow and the guardian and further demands from those cormorants, who now openly threatened to claim the dead man's estate for the widow and her son—they, at least, knew nothing of the latter's death; ay d then Fanny, coming to Sedgwick, tried to reassert her old sovereignty over Merriam and to gain possession of the papers of which her husband had told her and which Randy had long since sent to Parry, but concerning which never spoken to her brother-in-law, believing him to be ignorant of their existence; and it pleased Ned Parry to let her live on in ignorant that he had them. He took • curious interest in making a study of her, and had, without consulting his client, a more than professional inter-, eat in the case. as possible between the post and himself. He know he could get another horse at Jose's, so Brown Dick was nexer spared an instant. At three o'clock, galloping free, the gallant horse was stretching away northwestward over the low, roiling earth-waves that seemed to spread to the very lap of the Mescalero, spanning the horizon toward the setting sun. Far behind him, the scattered ranches and the sparse green foliage of the Santa Clara. Far away on either hand, the lumpy, sandy barren, dotted everywhere with little dull-hued tufts of coarse herbage or stunted sage. Ahead of him the tortuous. twisting, dusty trail, dented with scores of hoof-prints. the tracks ot But Mrs. Hayne only sobbed the more. How could she tell him? Yet it hod to be. * trade her peace with her lover lord, and wept gallons of salt tears as she told him how wicked—wicked—wicked she had been, and how penitent she was and how severely punished, though never so severely as she deserved. She would listen to no condoning words of Mrs. Haj'ne. She flung herself into her father's arms when, white-faced and ten years aged, he reached her at the ranch, and told him what a fiend she bad been and what an angel Randy—a statement the captain could not entirely indorse, for he went back to the cantonment at the end of the week confident still that there must have been something in Randy's conduct to undermine the faith of such an unusual girl as his Brownie. But he did not say so— it would have done no good. And her story was very simple. Rearing the ranch early in the first after- Strained from Its ravings and incoherences and straightened out in chronological order, the story resolved itself into this: John Harold McLane was a southern sympathizer as a young man, and went to California during the war, provided with a liberal allowance and an opportunity of embarking in business. At Sacramento he fell into the clutches of a notorious household. "Old man Perkins" had three handsome daughters and a scheming wife. The mother's aim was to marry those girls to wealthy men, and she had succeeded as to two of them, and McLane fell a viAim to the plot and was married to third. A son, John H., Jr., was born to them in June, '67, and trouble of every kind followed. The sisters had quarreled with their respective lords, one of whom had abandoned his wife and gone to Japan, while the other, even more desperate, had gone, self-directed, to his grave. McLane's home people refused to recognize any of the Perkins stock and cut off the young fellow's allowance. Old man Perkins, therefore, had three married daughters and one son-in-law on hi hands and pandemonium reigned within hia gates. He had to order the eldest daughter out of the house, and she revenged herself by eloping with a man who deserted wife and children to run away with this magnificently handsome creature, a thing he mourned in sackcloth and ashes until, his money vanishing, she ran off with another victim and left him poor indeed, yet vastly better off than when he had her. "God grant it," she cried. "God grant it! But, oh, my friend, we've had a dreadful fright! Capt. Grafton's men struck an Apache trail yesterday, and they are following it fast as they can go at this moment." BY CHAPTER XIV. Captain Charles Jfing, Tl.S.jt. the wretched woman tossed upoji the bed the note she had taken from among the others on the mantel, and, shouting for a light, Merriam tore open the envelope, while the Chinaman, nerveless and obedient to the master's will, threw open tlhe shutters. But Grafton lhad graver work ahead, nd it was close at band. Punctilious ildier that he was, he would leave no Dopbole for the possible criticism of a uperior. Hurriedly writing a few lines o Col. Buxton notifying him that thr . agon bringing Merriam was now close And with that announcement vanished all thought of further rest for him. Bidding the two troopers saddle anything on four legs that could carry them, he sprang forth into the still and radiant night and was astride his mongrel mount in a twinkling. In vain Mrs. Hayne came out and pleaded with him; Merriam would listen to nothingnothing but tidings of Florence. It was barely eight o'clock when, fully armed, the little party rode swiftly away under the northward stars, following an old trail that led to the upper foothills of the Mescalero. They were not half an hour gone when a sergeant and two men rode in from the west, inquiring for Dr. Gould and Mrs. Hayne. They were three of Grafton's men sent back from the chase to say they were hot on the trail. There were five Apaches afoot and one shod horse—so the traces told infallibly. Florence, then, was probably bound a prisoner on that horse, and Grafton would recapture her or lose every horse and man in the attempt.[Copyright 1896, by F. Tennyson Neely.] Sorely puzzled. Mrs. Grafton baa to leave her once in awhile for a few minutes at a time to consult her husband, who could frequently be heard moving about the parlor or going quickly In and out of the house. It was plain that Gr3fton was troubled about something besides Randy, and at 11 o'clock the explanation came. "Also sleeping," said Mrs. Grafton. "I don't see how people can sleep so soundly at such times," whereat the doctor looked conscious but said nothing.In the next minute Randy had read the page, with staring, throbbing i D the garrison, and that, as arranged stween them, he would meet it at the ite, he sent the note by his servant and istened up the row to tlhe angle •rmed by the south and west fronts, here an opening had been left in the ;nce for the convenience of riding arties; and it was through this gap that poor Randy was presently trundled »nd then down alODg the line to his own loorway. By this time tlhe pain in his strained and stiffened leg was intense, while the arm, hurriedly but skillfully Iressed when far afield, was troubling aim but little. His one thought all the way had been for Florence. He bad insisted on scribbling her a little note before they reached the Santa Clara, just to tell he was all right; ttbat there was notlhing to worry about, and all he needed was a few days of her nursing. The docor gave it to one of the men and gravely bade him ride ahead and give it to Mrs. Merriam, and the trooper bad duly handed it in at the door, where Hop Ling received it with bis customary grin, and stowed It aw»y on the mantel in the now deserted parlor where notes and cards had generally been displayed for the eyes of the young mistress. then fairly ordered her from the i and dazed, yet terrified at the effete of her announcement, she crept into Florence's room and threw herself into a chair, moaning and rocking to and fro. Like a madman Merriam was up and tearing about, issuing rapid orders to the servant, his lameness all forgotten, and Hop, awed and dismayed, dared disobey him in nothing. Qruiekly he dressed his master, pulling on lightrlding breeches and leggings instead of the cavalry scouting rig, and carefully drawing a hunting shirt over the cripp'.ed arm that In its sling and bandages was now bound close to the body. It seemed to take no time at all to get him dressed, yet Merriam fumed and raged, and then limped forth into the hall, bidding Hop go saddle Brown Dick at once. Grafton's troop on its way to the rescue. By this time Randy was burning with thirst, but the water in his canteen was warm and nauseating. He raised the felt-covered flask to his lips from time to time and rinsed his mouth and moistened his parching throat, but that did not allay the craving. He had still 30 miles to go before he could reach Jose's and exchange Brown Dick for a broncho, and have Dr. Gould renew the dressing of his wounded arm. He knew that Florence had failed to appear there, but he knew her pltiiSlTSinT Spirit, and believed he knew the reason— that there might be sojourners there either from the Catamount or from the post who would seek to turn her back or hold her there; and he knew that in her overwrought* half-maddened state she was starving for her mother's petting and her father's arms. He knew her so well that any attempt to dissuade her now would result, he felt assured, only in frantic outburst and more determined effort to push ahead. All that morning people strained their eyes and rubbed their binoculars and searched the distant foothills to the northwest, hoping for the coming of couriers with news; but not until afternoon were they rewarded. Then, covered with sweat and dust, a corporal of Grafton's troop rode in. Dr. Gould and Mrs. Hayne were still at Jose'a, though they feared they could be of no use there, for not a sign of Florence had been found. Grafton had sent couriers on to the Catamount with the tidings of her peril, and his men, in wide dispersed order, were scouring the foothills long days' marches away. Full half an hour the ladies grouped at Buxton's, listening to the soldiers' description of their search, and then were strolling homeward when, over toward the west end of the cavalry line, arose the sound of commotion and distress. Up to sundown Florence—Mrs. Merriam—had not been seen or heard of at Jose'a ranch. One of the trailers, Rafferty by name declared that Mignon'a tracks turned suddenly to the northward and led away from the ranch and into the maze of foothills to the right of the cantonmeni trail. At sundown they had reached Jose's, still hoping against hope thai she would be there, but no aign of het had been seen, and, borrowing a fresh horse, Rafferty started back to Sedgwick at the gallop to carry the news. Ht met the doctor with Mrs. Hayne only a short distance from Jose's, and they went on to the ranch hoping for bettei tidings, but bade him ride for SedgD wick with all speed. Rafferty could ride week in and week out if the horse oould stand it, and Jose's broncho wai a used-up quadruped by the time they reached the Santa Clara. There he turned him into a ranchman's corn# and borrowed another, never stopping to say "by your leave, sir." This was on the queen's service in Rafferty's mind, and no man's property was sacred when "Miss Florence's" life was involved. Buxton was up and about when the courier came, and in ten minutes had reached the office and sent for Grafton. What be wished to know was, bad she any reason whatever for turning away from the beaten track and taking to the unknown regions off the road and far to the northwest of the settlements? Grafton knew of none. There was indeed grave reason why she should not. And if that night was one of dread and dejection at the ranch, what must it have been to Merriain, reeling and well-nigh exhausted, yet riding grimly, desperately forward through the long hours, searching vainly, vainly under the wan moonlight, even along into the pallid dawn, for that little cleft in the foothills Floy had named "Mon Abri." Faint and shimmering the daybeams came at last, and then, and not until then, Murdock, a faithful trooper, now riding by his lieutenant's side and supporting him with his arm, turned to his comrade, who, dismounted, was striving with the aid of a match or two to study some hoof-prints they had found in the soft surface. "Jimmy," he whispered, "there's something moving along that ridge yonder—coming this way. What is it?" At sound of his halting footsteps in the ball, she had once more roused herself to action, her own weight of care and trouble urging her on. "Randy," she crie'J. "for God's sake answer me! Are you sure—are you sure—was there no other statement? no other paper? Did he persist to the last that his moth- Q«tti«r*Cl JUndy*a head on h«r McLane's wife was the beat of the three in disposition, but that waa saying little, and when all him money was gone they fairly kicked him out of doors, and he, in desperation, drifted to Nevada and the mines, just in the daya when colossal fortunes were being made by men who were wielding pick and shovel. At the very time old Perkins' people were trying to get a divorce, alleging desertion and failure to support, McLane loomed up at Virginia City as part owner of a lode that paid like the Comstock, and bis Sacramento wife, who was believed to be deeply in love with a steamboat engineer, proved that she wasn't by Journeying to Virginia City with her little boy aud reclaiming her now prosperous husband. There they lived in style, and the l'erkins household came to visit them and remained indefinitely, until the bickering drove McLane mad and he "skipped to 'Frisco," where every deal he made in the stock market went his way, and he became a millionaire before he was 30. Again his pretty but low-bred wife followed, and again he honestly tried to make the beat of his bargain; but her mad extravagance and the ceaselesa incursions of mother fcnd sister-in-law were too much for him. One day there came a craah and much of his fortune waa swept away. He had to break up his San Francisco home and go back to Virginia City, and a furious quarrel followed, in which he ordered the Perkinses never to darken his doors again, and lo! his wife sided with her sister and elected to go with them. McLane would gladly have parted with them all, but he had grown to !ove his boy. When once more, a year noon, she saw a party of horsemen riding in toward it, tind in her half-crazed state shs believed them troops from the post Randy's men. So she turned square to the north and rode for the foothills. She had a little store of provisions and some wine in the large saddle-pouch, and only then discovered that her bag was gone. She could ride away round the ranch, find "Mon Abri," and hide there during the night. She had her Navajo blanket. Mignon would have grass and water. What more could army girl ask in that warm and rainless region? Before sunset she had found the romantic little spot, unsaddled and picketed Mignon, and later moved her farther down stream for fresh grass, and, then, wearied, she herself slept for hours; and when she awoke and would have pushed on to the cantonment, lol Mignon was gone. Florence had heard no sound. She could not account for it. She could only sit and brood and think, and then, as the long, long day—the second day—drew to its close, pray heaven for Randy's coming. There, more surely than anywhere else, if he loved her, his love would lead him. An instant later, as the doctor, glancing, turned to hasten thither, a woman dressed in deepest black came reeling forth from the Merriams' doorway and plunging wildly down the steps. Everyone knew her at a glance— It was Fanny McLane, who stood there now swaying at the gate as though gasping for breath, while calling inarticulately for aid. It was but a few seconds before the doctor reached her. They saw him accost her briefly, then go springing past her up the steps and into the bouse. A moment more and Mrs. Grafton, with other women, reached her. Then he had another and even better reason for thinking he could quickly find Mignon's trail, although it might be miles to the north of Jose's. On their return from their latest visit to the Catamount they were having a glorious run with the hounds one lovely November morning, and the jackrabbits led them far out to the north of the road among the buttes and bowlders that clustered about the course of a little stream, barely a yard wide anywhere, that rippled out from among the foothills only to be lost in the sands of the desert to the east. One vigorous old rabbit, close followed by the hounds, had tacked suddenly and darted up this narrow valley, and Floy and Mignon, all excitement, darted after him, while Randy, guiding Brown Dick behind, watched with fond, proud eyes his young wife's graceful, fearless riding. Far up toward the head of the brook poor jack had been tossed in air by the pointed muzzle of hia closest pursuer and then pounced upon by the panting hounds, and Randy found that they were in a little amphitheater among the buttes—found the little spring in which the streamlet had its birth, and there they dismounted and unsaddled and let the horses roll; and here they took their luncheon, and had a happy, loving hour, all alone with the horses and hounds in this little world of their own; and Floy had named the spotr-a fond, foolish little caprice, perhaps, and vowed that it waa to be her refuge by-and-by. "This is where I am coming to build my lonely cloister one of these days, when you grow weary of me, air," she had laughingly said. And now, as he plied spurs to Dick's heaving sides, Randy wondered, wondered whether it might not be that she had made that wide detour around Jose's purposely to find and revisit that romantic little nook and there pour out her grief to the solitude of the silent foothills. er was alive?" "Mrs. McLane," was the answer, "you forced me to tell you the truth. I did all I could to keep it—and to keep mvself from you. but you would have it." And now as they neared the familiar •pot, poor Randy would sit up. It would never do to come before her eyes prostrated as though sorely hurt. Anything to spare her needless shock or worry. He even essayed a semi-jocular "how are you, old man?" as he caught sight of Grafton, and tried a smile and a wave of his hand to the ladies who appeared on the seiM hernmost porch of the infantry lines. "Oh, Randy, Randy!" she cried. "You are heartless! You are brutal, vindictive! You are punishing me because I so cruelly wronged you. But what did I ever do to you compared with what you have done to me? Oh, why, if you ever loved me, why could you not have destroyed that lying paper that is to rob me of my name, my rights, rob me of everything?" But now Bullock, the man who shot McLane, bad been traced to and arrested in Chicago, together with his dashing helpmeet. Uncle Mellen had been prostrated by paralysis as a re- of the news. The secret could be no longer kept, and Fanny McLane, hunted, desperate, self-deluded, and •elf-drugged, believed herself a ruined woman when at last Ned Parry came. "What is the matter? What has happened, Fanny? Why are you here?" And cowering, sobbing, shivering, she made answer: And though soft the whisper it caught poor Randy's drowsy ear, and he strove to straighten up in saddle. "What? Where?" he faintly asked. "Why, you look as though you'd had a worse tussle than I, captain." he laughed painfully, as he held out his hand. "How is Florence? It hasn't frightened her much, has it? I hope Mrs. Hayne's been with her." "Oh, stop him! save him I He'll kill himself. I—told him his wife was gone." "Yonder, sir, not half a mile away. It's some of our fellows, or I'm a duffer. Yell to 'em, Jimmy." "Hush!" he answered, leaning heavily against the balustrade. "1 rode "She's been a good deal troubled, of course," answered Grafton, gravely, "but—but Mrs. Hayne is—bringing her round all right. I think. How are yon, old man? You did have a ridel" For 60 miles northward the Santa Clara twined and twisted through a fairly fertile valley, once the herding ground of the Navajos, now wild and almost unsettled. Americans and Mexicans both had tried it as a stock range, but American cattle and American horses demanded a better quality of grass and more of it than would serve the stomach of the Indian pony. Treaty obligations sent the Navajos farther Into the mountain* to the northwest— beyond the Mescalero—but there were restless roam era who were conatantly off the reservation, sometimes on pass but ofteuer on mischief, and on the pretext of trading they came recklessly as far aa the settlement, and then somebody's horses were sure to be missing, spirited away into the foothills, whither it was almost useless to follow. The Navajos said the Mexicans were the thieves, the Mexicans declared them to be the Navajos, and when both parties were caught and accused, with prompt unanimity both announced that Apaches must again be raiding, and the name of Apache covered a multitude of sins. Time was when Victorio and Nana led the cavalry some glorious chases into the Mescalero, but both those redoubtables had met their fate, and agency officials across the Arizona line were ready to swear that none of their once intractable followers ever thought of quitting corn or melon planting for the forbidden joys of the raid and the warpath. All the same the foothills and the valley far to the northwest of the settlements were full of mystery and danger—the roaming ground of the horsethief and the renegade, and Merriam's men, just in from their long chase, pointed out how the Mexican ruffians, though starting originally toward the southwest, had in long wide circuit gradually worked their way northward, as though making for this very region. The leader of the gang that shot Brady and Corcoran was a fellow by the najpe of Ramon Valdes, and there was no deviltry too steep for him. The news, therefore, that Florence Merriam had not reached Jose's, but that her trail was lost somewhere among the butte* and bowlders four miles to the eastward of that frontier refuge. struck dismay to the hearts of her friends at Sedgwick. The tidings went from lip to lip. from house to house, like wildfire, and by midnight an entire troop had ridden forth with their ever ready three days' rations, and with Capt. George Grafton in oomma and their orders were not to return without Mrs. Merriam or definite news of her. Too late. Out to the stable the doctor chased, for bed and room were deserted. There, wildly gesticulating and pointing to the open mesa, was Hop Ling. "He makee my saddle—he makee lide—he allee gone!" be wailed, pointing to where, far to the west, a puff of dust cloud was swiftly vanishing down into the valley of the Santa Clara. Too ill to see him, she Beemed at least relieved to know he had come, and that night in Grafton's parlor he sat gravely listening to Harriet's recital of what Fanny had detailed to her, making no comment, but taking it all in, when, just at tattoo, a trooper dismounted at the gate and bore to Mra. Grafton a brief missive from her husband. It was written that morning nearly 20 miles northwest of Jose's And obedient to the word Jimmy yelled. Over the rolling surface the soldier's voice went ringing through the dawn, and echo sent it clattering back from the buttes and bowlders to the west. "This way, you fellers!—this nay!" he cried, and then, mounting, clapped spurs to his pony and sputtered away down the intervening swale. But now Randy was peering out along the row—their own row. Women were to be seen here and there along the verandas, gazing sympathetically toward the slowly moving party, but no feminine form was visible on the piazza of his little home. What days of jubilee there were at Sedgwick when at last Randy was convalescent enough to be moved, and the ambulance brought him back through the same old hole in the fence, Florence seated by his side. Another patient was out on a piazza farther down the row, taking the sweet fresh air and listening languidly to the purring of Minturn, who still worshiped at the shrine deserted by Whittaker. Undeniably sallow looked the Widow Mc- Lane, and her eyes gazed but languidly at the joyous little cortege entering the westward end of the road. Capt. and Mrs. Grafton, the Haynes, and other sympathizing friends had flocked thither to welcome the fugitives, and so it happened that there was no one at home but Mrs. McLane and a much perturbed young battery officer to greet two somewhat dusty civilians, who had just driven out from the junction, and now slowly ascended the Grafton's steps. One — Mr. Parry— came jauntily forward. The other—a mutton-chop whiskered, plethoriclooking party—bung reverentially back, as though waiting permission to venture into the presence of a queen. With swift, anxious, imploring glance the invalid searched the impassive features of her exasperating brother-inlaw and read no hope; but even from the depth of her despond sprang something of her old-time coquetry as she languidly lay back in the easy-chair and extended a slender, bejeweled hand to the adoring Swinburne. The batterymau bowed stiffly and nulled at hi* mustache in recognition of this new arrival, and Ned Parry almost audibly chuckled his enjoyment of the situation. Then stable call sounded and drew the warrior away and left the 4eld in the hands of the civilian, and then Parry decided he must "join the gang" at Merriam's; and there presently he was patting Randy on the back and showing symptoms of a desire to kiss Mrs. Randy's hand, as he did Mrs. Grafton's. Mrs. Grafton hurried out, declaring 6he must go and order more dinner, whereat Parry followed her to the gate and called a halt. She saw the twinkle in his eyes andr.topped. Ten minutes later Randy Merriam was lying on the ground in a swoon, and George Grafton, with grave, sad face, well-nigh as haggard as the lieutenant's, was bending over him and striving to force some brandy down his throat. Following "for all they were worth" the Apache trail, they had overhauled the supposed marauders not 20 miles back in the foothills—a pacific hunting-party, provided with the agency pass and safeguard, and culpable only in that they had come too far and had picked up on the plains an American horse, abandoned at sight of them by some Mexicans who galloped far a%vay; nnd that American horse, minus saddle and bridle, was Floy's pretty bay mare, Mignon. CHAPTER XV. Just about noon, when the hospital attendant was away at dinner, the doctor at Buxton's and Whittaker getting a nap after his night of vigil, only Hop Ling was on duty over Randy. "He'll probably sleep until late in the afternoon," the doctor said, when he looked La at 11, and so perhaps he might have done. Grafton, before starting, had taken the responsibility of removing Florence's ominous looking missive and placing it with other letters on the mantel in the little parlor. He could not feel justified in hiding it entirely. "Better lie back, Mr. Merriam," urged the doctor. "Try to make him do so," he murmured to Grafton. "We've got to get him quiet in his room before we let him know anything." Already the anxious young physician bad been told that Mrs. Merriam was probably SO miles away, and his soul was wrung at the thought of what that would mean to his patient. ranch. "You must prepare Merriam for the worst," it aaid. "There ia reason to be- " I-told him hla wilt vu son*." night and day. We sent the swiftest courier we had—to save your honor—to stop that marriage—" "But you didn't stop it! You were loo late!" she cried. "And when you uw it was too late, instead of burning those papers or giving them to me— you held them that you might triumph over my ruin. Then when you knew I was coming to beg for them, you were a coward, Randy—you sent them all to Ned Parry, that my own sister might (float over my downfall." later, fortune smiled on him, and, with a new bank account, he came down to San Francisco, the Perkinses had disappeared. Two of the aiaters were living the lives of adventuresaea. Old Perkina was dead and buried, and no one knew where the rest had gone—a hoat of Sacramento tradeamen wiahed they could find out. "Yes, lie down, Randy, till we get you Indoors," urged Grafton. "We've had to put up a game on Mrs. Randy—(God forgive me the lie." he prayed). "Knowing bow anxious you were and we were lest she should be shocked, we—kept her away. Mrs. Hayne and Dr. Gould are looking out for her. She's not to be allowed to come near you till we get you safe and sound and bathed and all fixed up in bed. Of course we know now. Randy—we didn't before, but Mrs. Hayne had tp tell my wife how careful we have to be of her—now, and really, old boy, she oughtn't to see you till you're washed and dressed You look tough. Randy." He felt that when Merriam woke the truth would have to be told him, and perhaps Florence's own words might best explain her flight. At ail events Dr. Leavitt had promised to be on hand to see that the news was not too abruptly broken, and Leavitt counted on a long sleep and upon subsequent drowsiness and languor as the result of his treatment. No one had dreamed of the possibility of such-rude awakening as came. No woman in her right senses would have ventured on the madbrained, desperate measure resorted to by Mrs. McLane. What she hoped to learn, what she expected to gain, what papers or information she still believed him to possess, who can say? The power of reasoning, driven from her by the stupefying drug that of late had overmastered its weak and willing victim, seemed to have utterly gone, leaving In its placc only something of the craft and cunning that possess the insane. Nq sooner was Mrs. Grafton out of the way, than, rousing suddenly, Fanny had summoned Annette, had hastened through her toilet, and, barely sipping the coffee tendered her, had thrown s light wrap over her head and shoulders and flitted out of the house, out past the stable at the rear, and, to the amaze of the sentry on No. 2, had scurried away along the fence, had easily located the Merriams' gate, the number on which corresponded with that of their quarters, and in another moment had let herself through the kitchen and dining-room apd into the little parlor. There for a few moments she seemed to bavtf paused and reconnoitered. Then where in heaven's name was she? "Mrs. McLane," he interrupted, "this is all unjust, all untrue. Ask Mr. Parry when he comes, as come he probably irill. But tbis end£ our meetings. God forbid that I should ever see you alone agaiu! It has driven from me my wife —the wife I love and love devotedly— do you hear?—and I'm going now to find her." Then McLane came east, bringing hia •heaves with him, and his family not unnaturally forgave and welcomed him. Prosperity followed him. fie fairly coined money, and Uncle Abe Mellen was only too glad to have him as a partner; and then after a lapse of years, when he thought her dead and honestly wished her so, his blissful bachelor life was broken in upon by the reappearance of his Sacramento wife, now a handsome woman of nearly 40, and a stalwart stripling whom he recognized at once as his long-lost son. For two years he provided for her and tried to educate the boy, but never again acknowledged her as hia wife, and so long as she was amply paid and housed, lodged and cared for, she never protested. Mac's club frienda sC me times winked and nudged each other when the tall young fellow appeared at the waiting-room with a letter, or when occasionally a dashinglooking woman patroled the neighborhood until he would come out and join her. The boy was wild and wouldn't study, and was expelled from the schools at whioh he was entered by the name of Perkins, and the landlords complained of the people Mra. Perkins At five o'clock Brown Dick was black with sweat and dust and streaked with foam, but still pressed gamely on, and Randy, with white, set face, in which deep lines of pain and weariness were graving, gazed fixedly ahead with burning, fevered eyes, conscious that strength was failing him and praying for the first sight of those dun adobe walls of Jose's sheltering ranch. It was some minutes before Merriam revived. Then he strove to stagger to his feet, but fell helplessly back. It was nearly broad daylight, but the sun was still below the distant Guadaloupe. Gathering his feeble energies, Handy strove to describe the little cove and to implore Grafton to bear him thither, and was interrupted by an eager sergeant, who said: "We passed just such a brook, sir, not a mile back. Shall I take half-a-dozen men and follow it i:p?" JL briaf mlMlv* from h«r husband. lieve poor Florence has fallen into the handa of a little band of Apaches. The aign is unmistakable and we are just atarting in pursuit." And though the face he longed to see as they bore him up the steps was miles and miles away. Merriam stifled his own disappointment and bravely thanked them. "God bless you and Mrs. Grafton! That was indeed thoughtful of you, old boy," he gasped, for pain was wrenching him, and he gave a long, long sigh of relief when at last he was lifted from the stretcher to a bed in the spa reroom.And then he broke away. Out to the stable he staggered; love, pity, devotion urging him on and triumphing over the still numbing effect of the deadening drug whose languorous Bpell he had never known before; and Brown Dick whinnied hie welcome and impatience, and Hop Ling whimpered his "pidgin" protests, even as he was 'cinching" on Merriam's field saddle with its well-stocked pouches. Randy fiercely ordered ftilence, bade the Chinaman give him a hand, and then, with Just at seven o'clock of the early winter'seveningthedenizensof Jose's heard the thud of horse's hoofs at the gate and the hail of a feeble voice. Jose's wife at that moment was in half-tearful talk with Mrs. Ilayne, who from dawn till dark had been on watch—hoping against hope for tidings of Florence, and who now, wearied with long vigil and well-nigh worn out with anxiety, was lying down in search of sleep. Gould, veteran soldier and surgeon that he was, could' no longer bear the suspense and inaction at the ranch, fie had borrowed one of Jose's horses, and. with a half-breed Mexican for guide, had ridden away at dawn, hoping to strike Grafton's trail and follow him Into the mountains, whither he was supposed to have ridden in pursuit of the Apaches. Gould was a skeptic. He said he didn't believe a dozen Apaches were off their reservation, fie didn't believe half a dozen had ventured over the New Mexican line, and if any had he was willing to bet a month's pay they were not hostile. This was comforting to Mrs. Hayne, but Jose's people were not so easily cured of their conviction. By the time the rumor reached the ranch, brought in by stampeded herdsmen, no one of whom had seen ar. Indian, but each of whom could tell tremendous tales of their doings in the valley, it was declared that at least 5C of Victorio's old band were raiding the Santa Clara and might be expected to assault Jose's at any moment. The corral was filled, therefore, with scraggy cow ponies and swarthy men, ant* the sight of an officer, one-armed, pal lid, exhausted, reeling earthward from an equally exhausted steed, was all that was necessary to complete the panic. Over half the Mexicans present made a mad rush for the subterranean refugr known as the "dug-out," and but for a couple of troopers who had put into Jose's with lamed and useless horses Handy would have gone headlong to tin ground. They caught him just in time and bore him inside the ranch, where the sight of his death-like face drove Jose almost frantic. But the troopers kuew what to do for their officer and speedily brought him round, and when be asked for Dr. Could they told him of l»fc» going, and Bandy's next demand was for coffee and a fresb horse. CHAPTER XVI. "Yes. at once," said Grafton, "and I'll go, too. Stay here. Randy." Indeed, the caution was not needed, for Merriam was past moving now, poor fellow, and his head sank helplessly back upon the soldier's supporting arm. And then they rode away, Grafton and half-a-dozen of his men, with Mignon, leg weary and reluctant, trailing behind. And meantime the troop dismounted and set about making coffee, while one orderly rode back on the trail to summon Dr. Gould, jogging wearily a mile behind. And presently the doctor came and knell by liandy's side and scolded through his set teeth, even while he skillfully stripped away the hunting-shirt and so reached the shattered arm. Late that anxious night one battalion of the rifiers returned to Sedgwick. Hayne's company one of the four, and very grave he looked when told of the events of the past 48 hours. Acting on the report of Capt, Grafton that Apache signa had been found in the foothills north of Jose's, Buxton had ordered another troop to march to reenforce him, and this troop Ilayne obtained permission to accompany. It marched at dawn, so he had barely three hours in which to prepare. Mr. Parry, wearied with his journeying and many cares, bad been escorted to Merriam's vacated quarters by Whlttaker some little time before midnight, and there he was made welcome by Hop Ling and given the room abandoned by the master of the house so short a time before. Many people, between anxiety as to the fate of their beloved Florence and their eagerness to receive the rifiers on their return, sat up until two o'clock; but Parry, though filled with anxiety a* keen, was well aware that nothing was to be gained by his spending a wakeful night and listening to all manner of theory as to the cause of the fair fugitive's sudden deflection from the road to the ranch. Ilayne, therefore, did not meet nor see him, but, as soon as it was light, rode forth ahead of the troop, meuning to go first to Jose's, see his wife and Dr. Gould, and then strike out northward, confident of meeting the second troop somewhere in the opp.. country that there spread for miles before him. But that sigh fu a faint whisper as compared with the long, long breath that Grafton drew, as he sat him down hi the adjoining room and mopped his streaming forehead. Col. Buxton and others—all the officers. almost—felt bound to come to the house between stables and retreat, just to see how R&ndy was getting on, tDut the answer was the same to one and all. No one was to be admitted, for the doc- blurred eyes and senses, with ears atil) drawvsily ringing, be slowly climbed into saddle, hardly missing the customary grip of the left hand in the mane. Then out he rode into the sunshine, Brown Dick bounding with eagerness to search for and rejoin his Stable matt; and then with every stride as he tore away over the mesa Randy felt the cobwebs brushing from bit brain, and hope and determination spurring him on. "You have broken your word and gone to your old love," was the stern message of Florence's brief letter. "I will be no man's fool, no faithless husband's wife. You need not look for roe nor follow, for J will never come to you again." tor was "trying to get him to sleep." And surely enough, bathed, re- received and entertained; then Mac put the young man in Mellen'a bank, and "You've brought her good news, I know," said she, with womanly eagerness.freshed, his arm set and dressed. Randy found himself stowed away in a soft, white bed, but oh, so weak and drowsy after ail the labor of the chase and the long, long day of racking pain. They were to bring Florence to biro pow, his wife, his darling, impatiently waiting for the summons, as he thought her, at Mrs. Hayne's, and he was stretching out his arms to her—his one available arm, rather, and fondly murmuring her name, when the weary eyelids closed and, numb and impotent, he drifted away Into depp, deep slumber "There," said the" doctor, at last, "he'll do now," there he was when the Hay ward nieces came back from Europe, and Charlotte Then came the glorious sunshine streaming over the Guadaloupe and gilding the westward Mescalero, and then far out among the buttes, one— twC*— three, at regular intervals, the ringing, echoing signals of the cavalry carbine; and rough-garbed troopers sprang to their feet and shouted loud, and clapped ball cartridge into the brown bellies of their guns, and fired unlicensed s.ilvos into the air, and danced and swung their hats, and drew coarse flannel shirt-sleeves across their blinking eyes—all at Sergt. Hogan's jubilant cry: "My God, boys, they've found her!* "More than that," said Tarry, with a comical grin. "More than Fan deserves by a good deal—I've brought the fellow that brings her the news. Nevermind dinner—give him ten minutes." married Ned Parry and Fan wished to marry Merriata. It was J. H. McLane, Jr., who did Uncle Abe's work for him and went around among Merriam's creditors and got them to Unite in their complaint to the war department; but by that time he had seen something qf Randy, had "taken a shine to him," as he expressed it, and when he learned Of what followed only Randy and Uop Ling were witnesses. The latter was never able to explain it, if indeed he ever could understand the situation, and as for Randy, It was long before he could be induced to speak of it at ail. The tim« came when he had to, however, and it can be told now. Mrs. Grafton let her husband go only with deep reluctance. He was very necessary to her now. She felt the need of bis support in the management of her truculent patient. She bad to leave the latter while assisting him In his busy preparations, and she was surprised and rejoiced to see that on her return to fcer funny bad becom? f)»r morec£3pj and resigned. The ladies in many households were still up and flitting about the post, tearfully, forebodingly discussing the situation, and several of tbero had dropped in to speak a word wl»b Mrs. Grafton—Whit taker and Minturn being ever on the alert to escort such parties—and so It was long after one—indeed. It was nearly two o'clock—when at last, after a final peep at her now placidly sleeping gneet and leaving Annette curled up on the sofa by ber mistress' bedside. Mrs. Grafton finally sought her own pillow and slept long Into the sunshine of the following day. "Oh, how did you get at the truth?" "I didn't—I couldn't. They were shy of me as though I'd been a Pinkerton. I knew Swinburne was sore-smitten. I knew he'd blow in his whole bank account if peed be. I told him the story and my suspicions, and set him to work. He found the engineer and got the proofB. She owes her deliverance to him." Another time pride, anger and sense of wrong might have held bis hand, but Sot now- Apd before that half-crazed, alf-cringing woman could give the alarm. Randy Merrlam was riding fast and furious to join the pursuit, thinking only of her suffering and her sorrow, all ignorant, mercifully, of the new peril that Involved his precious wile. He was half asleep, half awake, In «»#t helplessly lethargic state that that Merrlam had been banished to the frontier ns a consequence be told the old man that he was done with that Bort of dirty work, and was minded to go and confess to Miss Hayward what he had done. To buy him off Mellen gave him all the money he needed and bade him go and live the life always longed to lfve, that of a prospector and miner in the Sierras. McLane, the father, was away and had been away for several months. Mrs. McLane. the mother, after a furious quarrel with seems to possess most temperaments after subjection to the infl uence of morphine. Hewasconsciousofnopain.no soreness, conscious of nothing but thai longing for the coming of Florence and a wondering as to the time of nigtot or day. He remembered half opening bis eyes and seeing Hop blinking in an easyrhair by the bedside, and then noticed that it fras in the spare room—the guest room—he was lying, and he thought it must be neardawn, for the shutters and shades were drawn, yet a dim light'was shining through. He thought Florrie mrust be in her room, the front room, and he was just thinking of calling }o the servant and routing him. when" he heard the swift pit-a-pat of ligtot footsteps in the ball, a swish of skirts, and, stretching out bis arm, he called aloud: "Florence, darling!" and the next minute a woman's form was at hif bedside and he started up. rubbing his eyes, amaaed, startled, believing perhaps that he was still dreaming, for tlhere, with trembling, outstretched hands, Fanny McLane, "Aye," murmured Orafton, "but what will the waking be if there's no Florence here to-morrow?" Found her they had, indeed, curled ujD like a child, wrapped in her own pet Navajo blanket, sleeping the sleep of utter exhaustion, and waking only to burst into tears of relief and joy at sight of Grafton's radiant yet haggard face; then roused to instant action by the tidings he bore and gently, but reproachfully, told her — that, though sorely wounded and well-nigh exhausted, it was Randy who guided the rescuers to her, and who now lay prostrate and unconscious barely a mile away. Then she could hardly wait for them to saddle Mignon—could hardly urge her laboring favorite fast enough to roateh her mad impatience. It was a sight to move a heart of flint to see her, as with streaming eyes and convulsive sobs she threw herself from her saddle, and, reckless of them all, knelt and gathered Randy's unconscious head to her bosom, cooing over him, crying' over him, praying over him, begging for one word of love and pardon, then showering tears and kisses on his pallid lips. There was no crime of which the poor child did not accuse herself, for on their hurried way Grafton grave- I3' told her of Randy's utter innocence and of his own culpability. Not until the radiant 6un was nearly an hour high did their patient seem to respond to stimulant or caress; but at last, to her wild joy, he opened his eyes a little moment, looked up in her face, whispered: "Florence — sweetheart," and then seemed to drop away into resistless slumber. "Then it was as you thought—as you told Capt. Grafton?" "Certainly. Mrs. McLane No. 1 died two months after she got her $25,000, but the family couldn't afford to lose so fruitful a member. They had read and written each others' letters from childhood. Either surviving sister could write just as well as t'he youngest. They planned the game; they fooled McLane completely, and they as completely deceived poor young .lack, Vhe only reputable connection they had. Fan's all right now, thanks to Swinburne. Let him be happy for ten minute—she'll make him miserable the rest of his life. Let's go back and look at a picture of absolute bliss—Floy Merriam's face. Isn't she an ideal army wife?" That was an anxious night at Sedgwick. Merriam slept like the dead, and twice tbe young doctor feared it might be necessary to rouse him, thinking that perhaps be had sent that tiny shot of his hypodermic syringe with too heavy a charge. But so long as Randy was Ignorant of W» wife's mad e*oa pade he would have slept through sheer exhaustion and weariness, and his physician need not bave troubled bimself. Twice Grafton tiptoed in, and the hospital attendant arose at his coming and reported that the patient bad not stirred. It was vain for Dr. Leavitt to heap ibrprecation on the head of that hapless Chinaman, implicit obedience to the will of his master was the only creed Hop Ling observed. "Mellium say dless and catchum saddle and flask and lunch"—that was enough. "Mellium fray lide an* catchum Missee Mellium," and Hop Ling wasn't fool enough to interfere,Buxton had sent a party on the trail of Merriam within an hour of his dash and with orders tQ bring him back to the post, blU they had not been heard from since their start, "and," said Whittaker, "they're not likely to be. Those fellows barely ride one mile to Bandy's two. It's my belief he will just pull up at Jose'g and then go straight on to the foothills, as probably she did." her protector something Qver * year before, had agreed to, return to California apd never trouble him again upon payment of a big, round sum in cash. She would not listen to a pension, and the siory that came to the ears soon nfter was that at last his Sacramento wife had rewarded the fidelity of Awakening with a start at the soniul of stirring music on the parade, she (onnfl that |t was after eight and guard mounting was In full blast. 8ummoiking a servant, her first question was for news of Mrs. Merriam, for servants always know the garrison news before their masters. Not a word had been received. PrwnMy she tiptoed to Fanny's room, softer turned the knob, and noiselessly entered. There lay her guept still plunged in deep slumber, but Annette had disappeared, gone, probably, to the kitchen for poCTee. Par over (it the east, where the railway crossed the barren mesa, a locomotive whistle broke the silence of the desert with long, exultant blast. The blockade then was broken. The first train was coming in from Cimarron. Dressing with greater haste than usual, she ordered breakfast served, and then went out on the piazza and looked up the row toward the Merriams*. The doctor was Just coming out of the gate, and Whittaker, who had spent the night there on watch—ell thought of rivalry forgotten—was standing on the top step, apparently detaining the physician with some question. Eager for news of Randy, Mrs. Grafton threw her husband's cavalry B\it if Dr. LeavKt had lost one patient, Fate had provided him with another. He wnB needed at once at Grafton's, and, tarrying only long enough report to Button the escape of Lieut. Merriam, he hastened to the bedside pf Mrs. now in sore need of medical attention. But Uandy was having: a ride the like of which was not recorded iu the annals of Fort Sedgwick since the days when, long before ihe war, the First Dragoons and the Navajos battled for the master* ship of the Santa Clara. Ignorant as yet of the report Q1 Apaches io the foothill* pf the Mescalero, his one theory was tbut she had gone to Jose's, Intending from there to push ot\ to the cantonment. The thought of her daring so lpng bo hard a ride ai a time when she should be guarded with the utmost care was in itself a source of dire distress to him. and be could hardly bave speeded faster and with grimmer determination to defy all pain or weariness had he dreamed of the deadly perils that lurked about her path. Of the fact that Valdez and his few followers bad eventually fled northward and across the road Catamount he hat! beard nothing. Through Hop Ling's chatter he had gathered that Grafton and his men were gone in search of Florence and that Mrs. Hayne and Dr. Gould were at Jose's. Ue dare not stop to make inquiries at the garrison. lie was under medical carer— therefore under doctor's orders, and on complaint of the acting surgeon it would be perfectly comiietent Jor liuxton to place him q close arrest. His one idea, therefore, was to put as much ground her old friend, the Bteamboat engineer; Over at Grafton's quarters, Jiowever, they had to deal with a less tractable creature. Fanny McLane bad roused from her swoon and was nervously, ex cltably, irritably wide awake, dp manding actually to be allowed to see Mr. Merriam. Even Annette was sent out of the room and Mrs. Grafton had her friend and gitest to herself, and her tears and prayers, her reproaches qnd Imprecations fell on hardened ears. Mrs. Grafton was adamant. but the lawyers sent to trace the m$tt£f were confronted by yn\ooked-far newa —unwelcome uvwa, and therefore news they fully Investigated before report- And while he was sipping the coffee and resting on a bunk in thetnaln room. Mrs. Hayne came hastening in with outstretched bands and eyes still dim with weeping. She was shocked at his haggard appearance. She could only press his hand in silent sympathy and struggle hard to beat back the tears that would have flowed afresh. "You will stay here with us now until Dr. Gould returns," she said. "1 look for him any moment." THE END. Harriet Grafton has been heard to *ay that that afterppon and the night that followed made her ten years older, but her looks do not warrant the statement. Unquestionably she had a hard time, and might have had a much h&i'tler but for the opportune arrival at the post, just before sundown, of the lately blockaded lawyer, Mr. Edward Parry, of Chicago. ing, since, if true, it would put an enc\ to what promised to be a most profitable case. That $2S.,Q00 was practically I wasted—Jobu H. McLane was ' 'lead. They found her heiulstoue aod all, but could get 90 trace of her longj devoted it wns surmised that he ; had taken what was left of the money [ and gone elsewhere in search of consolation. McLnne route back to New ! York, piet Fanny Hayward, fell in love, and Uncle Mellen urged the match in every way; and we know the result. There u fortnight in which McLaue : *temed the happieet of men. Then a shock. Fanny found hi® nearly crazed with trouble. A letter had come I purporting to be from that supposedto-be-dead woman demanding further heavy payment as the prife of her silence. McLane honestly told Fan the truth, and was astonished at her decision. She bade him "pay the money and have done with it." fhey might have doubted the geuujpenesa of her letter, hnt there wm no of toe Globe ior ,f RHEUMATiSM.l I M NEUBAWHA and similar Complaints, I and prepared under tbe stringent U ML GERMAN MEDICAL LftiwS JS prescribed by emine't physicians ■fin OR. RICHTERS fftS [PAIN EXPELLERJ ■ World renowned! Remark;My successful! 1 ■Only (frnofire with Trade Mark " Anchor," ■ ■D. Ad. Wetter 4 vl., 215 Sew York. ■ 1 31 HIGHEST AWARDS. ' j 13 Broach Houses. Own Glassworks, ■ A SSStlAH" Cadoraed A rmwailul bj A o r Glick. 50 N. Ma'n St.: 3 H-4N. Main St.; DR. RICt.TER'S I ANCHOR" BTOMACHAI. W fori i ComMairrnJ "What—where Is my wife?" he gasped. "I thought—why, surely this cannot be you I" "It Is I, Randy," she quavered. "X was In torment-—I could not rest nor deep. I knew you were alone, With no one to care for you." "It is mad folly to talk of such a thing, Fanny," she replied to every as- MAVoneI" he Interrupted. "What C1q you mean? Where is FlorepceD my wife?" Meantime, utterly broken down and ©Vt Pff now, for the first time since her irarriHge, from the soothing and comfort of the perilous drug to the use of which she had become wedded almost from the hour that she met McLpua, poor self-absorbed fanuy was pouring out }ier stftry and her secret in almost incoherent ravings to her hostess. Dr. Leavitt, who hud suspected the cause of her vagariep before, was confident of it when he was called in to prescribe, and quickly found the dainty little case that Grafton had discovered the day before. It was hours before she could be even measurably quieted, and meantime what a tale of shame and woe had she "T? No. indeed. 1 go on at once, as soon as they can saddle a fresh horse for me. She must be more than halfway to the cantonment by this time, if Mignon hasn't given out." sault. "Mr. Merriam is far too seriously injured to see anybody, much less yon, who would importune him for your OWP selfish purposes. Capt. Grafton ■ays the doctor has forbiddep'him to everybody, and be knows. In the morning Capt. Grafton will see him for you, if the doctor will permit." Whereat the widow only stormed the more and declared, with hysteric tears, that they were keeping her away from Randy Merriam out of spite and hatred just at the most critical time. "He'll die, hell die,* she cried, "and carry my on* safeguard with him to the gravel" "You don't (mean—they haven't told you?" she answered. "She (has gone —home to her people. It is supposed. She left two nights ago—that is one reason I am here." And then Mrs. Hayne sobbed aloud. "Oh, Randy, Kandyl Haven't you fcear«J? Floy never regained the road all. The mail carrier from Catamount got in an hour ago and saw nothing whatever of her." "A pretty time we had," said Gould, "getting that pair of spoons back to Jose's!" It was an all-day's joh, between waiting for the ambulance and then finding an easy read for It. But there at Jose's were "the spoons" condemned to stay four days and nights, at least, while the rest of Sedgwick's scouting parties drifted back to the and there presumably Florence But Merriam burst in upon her wailing, half incoherent words. "In God'» name what do you mean? You or I must be mad. Here, Hop, quick I Where are my clothes? Fetch them at once; then go for Capt. Graftop.v "Then I know where to find her," said Randy, promptly, "A lovely spot we visited together hardly a month ago, and 1 could find it easily after moonriae."cape over her shoulders and tripped briskly up the gravel walk. "Still sleeping." said the doctor, "and how is your "I'm not mad," she answered. "Read fchi»—tha letter she left for jou," and |
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