Grant County herald. [volume] (Lancaster, Wis.) 1850-1968, 1884-07-10

"Well, give us some word TO take
back. What shall we tell them?" they
asked.
Tell them little Storm is Dead" she
answered moui nfully.
"All right, we WILL" they said. and
as each rough settler rode past the girl
they raised her chubby little hand to
their bearded lips and kissed it, respect
fully, saying-"We hope you'll change
your mind and come back. We won't
peach on you at the camp"
CHAPTER XIV.
When the guards were out of sight,
Storm dismounted and walk up to the
dead man. She trembled good deal
but as necessity demanded it, she
stopped down and secured the picture
which Jim Dane had drawn. Then she
covered the corpse with brush and dead
wood as good as possible and remounted.
After studying the paper some time
she made out what appeared to be the
right way, and giving her nervous pony
the rein, she fairly flew down the long
defile. 1t was like running away from
death and Storm could not ride fast
enough.
o, bonny Jock!-p proud, glossy, flying
Jock! The thunder-splintered crag
takes up the ringing echo of thy hoof
and filings again the flinty song to neigh
Dor cliff where through the scrubby pine
and fir mournful dirge the night wind
chants, made gloomier still by deep
bass notes of lonely owls that mourn
away the dragging hours. o, ghostly
singing trio! | wonder could | fit thy
wild refrain to words like these:
members;
Sits by the raked-up ashes of the past,
Spreads its thin hands above the whitening en-
That warm its creeping life blood till the last ~
After travelling about two miles the
horse and his fair rider plunged into
a small gulch branching from the main
valley. The road was very rough and
stony and black Jock was forced to pick
his way carefully among huge powders
that had loosed themselves from over
hanging cliffs and lay across the mar
row path, Until at last the way became
SO choked up that Storm dismounted
and tied her horse to small tree. A
few rods further on lay the object of her
night ride.
Storm pulled Jock a handful of sweet,
tender grass, caressed the horse, and
after drawing her dress above her grace
full ankles, began to ascend the rocky
lodges.
She shortly stood at the entrance of
large grotto or rocky cavern. Its
mouth looked dark and forbidding and
l wonder that timid young lady could
muster sufficient nerve to enter its
yawning jaws. In daylight it would
have been romantic and picturesque, for
surrounding it grew stunted pines and
ironwood and on the arch above the en-
trance grew versicolored mountain
flowers that filled the air with mingled
perfumes, while from its altitude the
valley lay beneath filled with quiet and
mystery. But with the going out of
sunshine and daylight fled all its glory,
and Storm could realize nothing but its
sublimity of horrid blackness.
Placing her hand over her wild throb-
bling hearts she entered the dark cavern.
A chattering bat loosed itself from its
moorings and hurled away in the dark
ness. An owl ceased his dismal chant and
leered at her without agitation or COM
ment. Keeping her hand upon the wet
wall of the passage, Storm still pressed
on. Rock bottom, sides and top were
all that she could distinguish.
Presently the rock passage began to
widen out and from some far quarter
came light, so family at first that it
barely tinged the drops of moisture
clinging to the rocks; but as Storm ad-
vanced and as she suddenly turned an
angle in the cavern it became stronger
and lit the way for our pretty button
boots.
A few rods further on Storm came to
halt.
Before her was large chamber, such
a recluse as only Nature could fit up for
such of her weary beings as would flee
the sunshine and an not over SYM
pathetic world. From this chamber
shot off many Railways and rocky rooms.
At the further end blazed bright wood
fire. Before the fire upon log was
seated an old man. His long white
locks fell disheveled adown his age-bent
back, and his unshorn beard and shay
gy eyebrows left visible but a small
portion of his wrinkled, stony features.
His hands were clasped about his knees,
his head was bent upon his breast, his
eyes looked into the fire before him and
he moved not. Opposite him on the
other side of the lire, lay large lion.
In a crouching attitude, its fore paws
were stretch out before ii and its head
lay upon the outstretched paws. The
lion was silent, too. Not a muscle in
its beautiful body moved. 1t was not
asleep, for its glowing eyes looked up
steadily into the iron face of the man
on the other side of the fire. Moment
after moment shuffied slowly to its grave,
the fire sparkled and Kissed. yet the her.
init took not his eyes from the Goals nor
the lion his from the man.
Breathlessly Storm stood and survey
the group before her. She could or
dared not retreat if she felt so inclined,
for the button boots were no match, in
a race, for the agile limbs of the power
full animal by the fire, if he should
catch her retreating footsteps.
The fire burned lower and lower and
its circle of light grew ever narrower.
leaving Storm in total darkness and
lending to lion and man shadowy in
distinctness. Still neither man nor
brute moved.
At last the solitary jet of fire flashed
out leaving but bed of glowing Goals.
Neither of the figures had moved and
Storm was fast becoming desperate.
Two things she could do: fly from the
cavern to her good horse Jock, or adj
vance and trust to the man to keep of
the lion. She was about to put the
latter conclusion into execution = 4
scanning nv far tho SafoSt af +,yo