The Iola register., 1886-04-23

dark to sec the stitches or she became
interested in the stories the two men
told, for she rarely did much work. One
morning, after breakfast, the young
man shouldered his pack and bade
Crippled Bill and his daughter good.
bye. The old moonshiner would &C.
cept no pay for the young mans enter.
! tainment, and Morgan. turning sud.
denly. slipped a ring from his ittle
finger and. catching Kate hand. placed
it on her brown forefinger.
"You will wear this to remember
me-" he said, and she, looking into his
face with moist eyes, answered truth.
fully:
81 shall never forget yc."
The summer passed away and Bill,
who was always solicitous for his Little
Kate's health, noticed that as tie leaves
on the maple trees began to golden and
the oaks were crowned with quivering
wells of crimson the roses in Kate 8
cheeks grew fainter and her brown eyes
always had look of eager expectancy
in them. He secretly determined to see
a doctor about her the next time he
went down to the settlement at Bangor,
but before he could put this plan into
! execution poor Kate was past all doc
tors help. Beginning from a week
after the artist left the girl had made a
journey every morning to little glen
which overlooked the road leading up
from the Narrows and would sit there
on the messy rock for hours at a time,
with her face turned toward Yocum
creek and her eyes on her knitting. On
this particular morning she went to the
same place and had hardly taken her
position on the rock when she heard
the heavy tramp of a body of horsemeni
coming up the creek and sprang for
ward, with an eager, wistful light in her
eyes. Suddenly, IS the approaching
cortege swept around bend in the
NarrOws. she uttered a startled cry and
staggered back as though struck by
some sudden blow, for she recognized
the intruders as a squad of revenue
officers. Riding at the head, with his
eyes fixed straight before him, was
Harry Morgan, the artist.
''Spy!" she Kissed between her set
teeth, and tearing the ring he had given
her from her finger she flung it from
her. Then. as the Government party
disappeared around bend in the Mar
rows, heading straight toward her
fathers still, she bounded up the glen
like frightened deer, with fierce and
passionate anger tugging at her heart.
to give the stillers warning. As she
reached the head of the glen she heard
wild shouts and the rattle of fire arms,
and when bullet clipped leaf close.
beside her she sprang behind large
rock for shelter, trembling and fright
ened. Suddenly a man dashed past
her, and peering out, she saw Dick AL
frey, with fierce fire in his eyes, speed
ing up the glen, rifle in hand.
Behind him came another armed man,
the artist, whose ring she had cast from
her in scorn only few minutes before.
As he reached the rock behind which
she crouched Dick Alfrey sprang to
shelter behind some bushes, and. wheel
ing, raised his rifle. The movement
was a quick one, but the girl in hiding
was quicker. With a warning cry she
leaped out into the path and. as the
hunted moonshiner's rifle cracked, the
bullet intended for his pursuer's heart
pierced the tender bosom of Little Kate.
She fell to the rocky ground with a
cry and the life-bIood dyed her
white dress crimson. The man to save
whose life she had sacrificed her own
dropped beside her and raised her head.
There was q smile upon herlips and her
brown eyes opened and loaked into his.
"rm dyin' Harry" she gasped. ..for
you, love-kiss met" and as their lips
met she died.
Crippled Bill had been captured and
when the marshal's posse, following
their leader, brought the old man up
and his eyes fell upon the dead girl,
who, living, was all in all to him, he
uttered stricken cry and rushing for
ward fell beside her on the stony
ground. His bearded cheek was pressed
close to hers and his long gray hair
dabbled in her life-blood. When he did
not move nor speak they raised him up.
He was dead. His great rough heart
had burst asunder. They buried them
side by side in the little glen where
Little Kate had waited SO long for the
lovc- who had won her heart only to
wiring from its contiding recesses the
secret of Crippled Bill Elliott's moon
shine still.
Tall sycamores wave their speckled
branches high above the heads
of the dead and sloughing wind
is their only requiem. The grass grows
green all around the mounds and the
water of the little branch purls at their
feet. A thousand violets nod their heads
on Kate's grave and shed their sweet
perfume on every breeze. They were
his favorite flowers. Between the two
graves some kind neighborly hand has
set up a rude stone on whose face
ruder hand has scratched these words:
HERE LIES
CRIPPLED BILL ELLIOTT
AND HIS