Genre Romance. Page - 20

nothing to do with anger, felt his blood grow hot at the cowardly trap laid for an innocent girl.

"Old Al won't listen to me," pondered Dale. "An' even if he did, he wouldn't believe me. Maybe nobody will. . . . All the same, Snake Anson won't get that girl."

With these last words Dale satisfied himself of his own position, and his pondering ceased. Taking his rifle, he descended from the loft and peered out of the door. The night had grown darker, windier, cooler; broken clouds were scudding across the sky; only a few stars showed; fine rain was blowing from the northwest; and the forest seemed full of a low, dull roar.

"Reckon I'd better hang up here," he said, and turned to the fire. The coals were red now. From the depths of his hunting-coat he procured a little bag of salt and some strips of dried meat. These strips he laid for a moment on the hot embers, until they began to sizzle and curl; then with a sharpened stick he removed them and ate like a hungry hunter grateful for little

f the grille in Seventy-third Street.

He leaned against the bars, panting, but completely and thoroughly reveneered. "Of all the colossal tomfools!" he said, aloud. "What in thunder am I going to do now?"

"Well, Aloysius," boomed a heavy voice, which was followed by a still heavier hand, "you might come along with me; the walking's good. Bell out o' order? Was there any beer in the ice-chest?" The policeman peered under the peak of Armitage's cap. "I saw you climb over that grille. Up with your hands, and no monkey-shines, or I'll rap you one on the conk!"

Armitage obeyed mechanically. There was a temporary cut-off between his mind and his body; they had ceased to co-ordinate. The policeman patted all the pockets, and a thrill of relief ran over the victim. Somewhere along the route he had lost the automatic. As he felt the experienced fingers going over his body he summoned with Herculean effort his scattered forces. Smack into the arms of a policeman! Here was a situation which called f

d glance about him as he recovered his balance assured him that pursuit would be futile. The man had darted off down a narrow turning which had led into a maze of streets. Already his rapid footsteps had ceased to echo on the pavement; he was lost by this time in the busy restless throng of Saturday night foot-passengers. The Doctor, abandoning any idea of chasing and securing him, lost not a moment in doing what he could. The short street was a new one, having on one side a neglected piece of waste land, where bricks, gravel, and mortar were flung in confusion; upon the other a row of half-finished houses. A curve at its upper end hid the thoroughfare beyond, although the sound of wheels and the hoarse cries of hucksters were audible to him as he dropped upon one knee, and gently raised the inert figure. Blood was upon it; he felt it and knew that it was staining his hand. Had no one heard that dreadful, thrilling cry but himself? It seemed not. He shouted loudly with the full power of his lungs:

"Hel

used a youngman, the following day in the little hamlet of Tafelberg, towhistle as he carefully read it over.

"I am glad that I am not the mad king of Lutha," he saidas he paid the storekeeper for the gasoline he had just pur-chased and stepped into the gray roadster for whose greedymaw it was destined.

"Why, mein Herr?" asked the man.

"This notice practically gives immunity to whoever shootsdown the king," replied the traveler. "Worse still, it givessuch an account of the maniacal ferocity of the fugitive asto warrant anyone in shooting him on sight."

As the young man spoke the storekeeper had examinedhis face closely for the first time. A shrewd look came intothe man's ordinarily stolid countenance. He leaned forwardquite close to the other's ear.

"We of Lutha," he whispered, "love our 'mad king'--noreward could be offered that would tempt us to betray him.Even in self-protection we would not kill him, we of themountains who remember him as a boy and loved his fatherand hi

e terror, and she burst into a hearty fit of laughter.

"Charley," she shouted, "here's Eliza misbehaving again."

"I'll settle her," answered a masculine voice, and the young man dashed into the room. He had a brown horse-cloth in his hand, which he threw over the basket, making it fast with a piece of twine so as to effectually imprison its inmate, while his aunt ran across to reassure her visitors.

"It is only a rock snake," she explained.

"Oh, Bertha!" "Oh, Monica!" gasped the poor exhausted gentlewomen.

"She's hatching out some eggs. That is why we have the fire. Eliza always does better when she is warm. She is a sweet, gentle creature, but no doubt she thought that you had designs upon her eggs. I suppose that you did not touch any of them?"

"Oh, let us get away, Bertha!" cried Monica, with her thin, black-gloved hands thrown forwards in abhorrence.

"Not away, but into the next room," said Mrs. Westmacott, with the air of one whose word was law. "This way,

e was roused from her forgetfulness, by the sound of the castleclock, which struck one. Surprised at the lateness of the hour, sherose in haste, and was moving to her chamber, when the beauty of thenight attracted her to the window. She opened it; and observing a fineeffect of moonlight upon the dark woods, leaned forwards. In thatsituation she had not long remained, when she perceived a lightfaintly flash through a casement in the uninhabited part of thecastle. A sudden tremor seized her, and she with difficulty supportedherself. In a few moments it disappeared, and soon after a figure,bearing a lamp, proceeded from an obscure door belonging to the southtower; and stealing along the outside of the castle walls, turnedround the southern angle, by which it was afterwards hid from theview. Astonished and terrified at what she had seen, she hurried tothe apartment of Madame de Menon, and related the circumstance. Theservants were immediately roused, and the alarm became general. Madamearose and de

y express request. He took his time to examine and think; and he saw the chance of saving the patient by venturing on the use of the lancet as plainly as I did--with my forty years' experience to teach me! A young man with that capacity for discovering the remote cause of disease, and with that superiority to the trammels of routine in applying the treatment, has no common medical career before him. His holiday will set his health right in next to no time. I see nothing in his way, at present--not even a woman! But," said Sir Richard, with the explanatory wink of one eye peculiar (like quotation from Shakespeare) to persons of the obsolete old time, "we know better than to forecast the weather if a petticoat influence appears on the horizon. One prediction, however, I do risk. If his mother buys any of that lace--I know who will get the best of the bargain!"

The conditions under which the old doctor was willing to assume the character of a prophet never occurred. Ovid remembered that he was go