Genre Romance. Page - 10

ew faces, many faces, long rows of faces, some pale, some red, some laughing, some horrified, some shouting, some swearing--a long row of faces that swept through the smoke, following a line of steel--a line of steel that flickered, waved, and dipped.

CHAPTER III

THE VICTORY

The bandmaster marshalled his music at the head of the column of occupation which was to march into Louisburg. The game had been admirably played. The victory was complete. There was no need to occupy the trenches, for those who lay in them or near them would never rally for another battle. The troops fell back behind the wood through which they had advanced on the preceding day. They were to form upon the road which had been the key of the advance, and then to march, horse and foot in column, into Louisburg, the place of honour at the head being given to those who had made the final charge to the last trench and through the abattis. Gorged with what it had eaten, the dusty serpent was now

r might have classed above herparents. They, moving from Kentucky into Indiana, from Indiana intoIllinois, and now on to Oregon, never in all their toiling days hadforgotten their reverence for the gentlemen and ladies who once weretheir ancestors east of the Blue Ridge. They valued education--felt thatit belonged to them, at least through their children.

Education, betterment, progress, advance--those things perhaps lay inthe vague ambitions of twice two hundred men who now lay in camp at theborder of our unknown empire. They were all Americans--second, third,fourth generation Americans. Wild, uncouth, rude, unlettered, many ormost of them, none the less there stood among them now and again sometall flower of that culture for which they ever hungered; for whichthey fought; for which they now adventured yet again.

Surely American also were these two young men whose eyes nowunconsciously followed Molly Wingate in hot craving even of a morningthus far breakfastless, for the young leader had o

minutes longer! Yvonnehas been trying on my fancy dress, but she's nearly done."

The neck and shoulders below the laughing face were bare and a bare armwaved in a propitiatory fashion ere it vanished.

"Looks as if the fancy dress is a minus quantity," observed Billy to hiscompanion with a grin. "I didn't see any of it, did you?"

Scott tried not to laugh. "Your sister?" he asked.

Billy nodded affirmation. "She ain't a bad urchin," he observed, "assisters go. We're staying here along with the de Vignes. Ever met 'em?Lady Grace is a holy terror. Her husband is a horrible stuck-up bore ofan Anglo-Indian,--thinks himself everybody, and tells the most awfulhowlers. Rose--that's the daughter--is by way of being very beautiful.There she goes now; see? That golden-haired girl in red! She's another ofyour beastly star skaters. I'll bet she'll have that big bounder cuttingcapers with her before the day's out."

"Think so?" said Scott.

Billy nodded again. "I suppose he's a prince at least. My

arks of any sort. All round us, turn which way we might, nothing was to be seen but the majestic solitude of the hills. No living creatures appeared but the white dots of sheep scattered over the soft green distance, and the skylark singing his hymn of happiness, a speck above my head. Truly a wonderful place! Distant not more than a morning's drive from noisy and populous Brighton--a stranger to this neighborhood could only have found his way by the compass, exactly as if he had been sailing on the sea! The farther we penetrated on our land-voyage, the more wild and the more beautiful the solitary landscape grew. The boy picked his way as he chose--there were no barriers here. Plodding behind, I saw nothing, at one time, but the back of the chaise, tilted up in the air, both boy and pony being invisibly buried in the steep descent of the hill. At other times, the pitch was all the contrary way; the whole interior of the ascending chaise was disclosed to my view, and above the chaise the pony, and above the p

ld son, have you been a good boy to-day?" asked Mr. Moore as Roger slid into his place at the table.

"No, sir. I've been pretty bad. Say, Papa, how much would it cost to build a railroad, under the ground, from our house to Prebles'?"

"A good deal of money. What way were you bad, Rog?"

"Oh, about every way, temper and all. Papa, I guess I'll build that railroad. I got a big piece of pipe and a gauge that might work. Guess I might begin to make a engine. Aren't I a pretty good inventor, Papa?"

"I don't know, Son. Nothing you've ever said or done makes me think you're one yet. In the first place an inventor is the most patient animal in the world. An inventor just can't lose his temper. Why don't you begin by inventing a way to control your temper, Son?"

Roger subsided into his bowl of bread and milk.

Mr. Moore was smoking on the front porch when Mrs. Moore joined him after putting Roger to bed. She sat down on the steps beside him while she told him of Roger's day.

ow that Alice was dead and the fact that she, as a physician, had blundered, was too obvious to be denied, the situation held alarming possibilities. Consternation replaced her grief and the tears dried on her cheeks while again she paced the floor.

She was tired almost to exhaustion when she stopped suddenly and flung her shoulder in defiance and self-disgust. "Bah! I'm going to pieces like a schoolgirl. I must pull myself together. Twenty-four hours will tell the tale and I must keep my nerve. The doctors will--they must stand by me!"

Dr. Harpe was correct in her surmise that her suspense would be short. The interview between herself and the husband of her dead friend was one she was not likely to forget. Then the coroner, himself a physician, sent for her and she found him waiting at his desk. All the former friendliness was gone from his eyes when he swung in his office chair and looked at her.

"It will not be necessary, I believe, to explain why I have sent for you, Dr. Harp

it, but I rather hate it for your own sake. Itisn't worthy of you, old boy. It's so--so ungentlemanly."

"So it is. But I do it because I'm bored. I am bored, you know.Desperately!" He stretched out his hand to her with such haggard,hunted eyes that Laura, reckless, threw herself down by him andkissed the heavy eyelids. Clowes put his arm round her neck,fondling her hair, and for a little while peace, the peace ofperfect mutual tenderness, fell on this hard-driven pair. Butsoon, a great sigh bursting from his breast, Clowes pushed heraway, his features settling back into their old harsh lines ofsavage pain and scorn.

"Get away! get up! do you want Parker to see you through thewindow? If there's a thing on earth I hate it's a dishevelledcrying woman. Write to Lawrence. Say I shall be delighted tosee him and that I hope he'll give us at least a week. Stop.Warn him that I shan't be able to see much of him because ofmy invalid habits, and that I shall depute you to entertainhim. Tha

f Nero!" thought Walden, as his eyes wandered from the thrush on the almond tree, back to the volume in his hand,--"With all our teaching and preaching, we can hardly do better. I wonder---"

Here his mind became altogether distracted from classic lore, by the appearance of a very unclassic boy, clad in a suit of brown corduroys and wearing hob-nailed boots a couple of sizes too large for him, who, coming suddenly out from a box-tree alley behind the gabled corner of the rectory, shuffled to the extreme verge of the lawn and stopped there, pulling his cap off, and treading on his own toes from left to right, and from right to left in a state of sheepish hesitancy.

"Come along,--come along! Don't stand there, Bob Keeley!" And Walden rose, placing Epictetus on the seat he vacated--"What is it?"

Bob Keeley set his hob-nailed feet on the velvety lawn with gingerly precaution, and advancing cap in hand, produced a letter, slightly grimed by his thumb and finger.

"From Sir Morton, please

ave spoilt his physiognomy for life; and, depend upon it, as long as life lasts, he will neither forget nor forgive that. I shall also come in for a share of his spite, and it behoves both of us to beware of him."

"But what can he do to us?"

"Caballero, that question shows you have not been very long in this country, and are yet ignorant of its customs. In Mexico we have some callings not congenial to your people. Know that stilettoes can here be purchased cheaply, with the arms of assassins to use them. Do you understand me?"

"I do. But how do you counsel me to act?"

"As I intend acting myself--take departure from Chihuahua this very day. Our roads are the same as far as Albuquerque, where you will be out of reach of this little danger. I am returning thither from the city of Mexico, where I've had business with the Government. I have an escort; and if you choose to avail yourself of it you'll be welcome to its protection."

"Colonel Miranda, again I know not how to thank yo