The Arkansaw traveler., 1888-03-03

just as l was expecting to see the shut ter open, went on again; this time the air was "Pretty Polly Oliver"
 crept back again, and began to hammer more loudly at the door. "Come," said I, "whoever this may be inside, I'll see for myself at any rate" and with that I lifted the latch and gave the door heavy kick. It flew open quite easily Git had not even been locked), but the relics of supper lay on the deal table, and the remains of what must have been a noble fire were still smouldering on the hearth stone. A crazy, rusty blunderbuss hung over the fireplace. This, with a couple of rough chairs, broken ba- con-rack, and small side table, con- pleted the furniture of the place. No :; for as sat down to make meal of the remnants of supper, something lying on the lime ash floor beneath this side table caught my eye. l stepped forward and picked it up.
 It was barrister's wig.
 "This is queer business" thought l ; and l laid it on the table opposite me as went on with my supper. It was "gossan" wig, as we call it in our parts; a wig grown yellow and rusty with age and wear. It looked so sly and wicked as it lay there, and brought back the events of the day so sharply that queer dread took me of being discovered with it. I pulled out my pistol, loaded it (they had given me back both the powder and pistol found on me when was taken, and laid it beside my plate. This done, 1 went on with my supper-it was an excellent cold capon-and all the time the flute up- stairs kept toot-tootling without stopping, except to change tune. It gave me "Hearts of Oak, :" "Why, Soldiers, Why?" "Like Her init Poor," and "Come, Lasses and Lads," before I had fairly cleared the dish.
 "And now," thought I, q have had good supper; but there are still three things to be done. In the first place l want drink, in the second want bed, and in the third, I want to thank this kind person, whoever he is, for his hospitality. Pm not going to begin life No. ? with housebreak- ing"
 rose, slipped the pistol into my tail-pocket, and followed the sound , up the ramshackle stairs. My foot steps made such racket on those old timbers as to fairly frighten me, but they never disturbed the flute- player. He had harked back again to "Like Hermit Poor" by this time, and the dolefulness of it was fit to make the dead cry out, but he went whining on until reached the head of the stairs and struck a rousing knock on the : door.
 } The playing stopped. "Come in," said cheery voice; but it gave me no ) cheertulness. Instead of that, it sent all the comfort of my supper clean out of me, as I opened the door and saw ham sitting there.
 There he was, the man who had saved my neck that day, and whom most l hated in the world, sitting be- fore snug fire, with his flute on his knee, a glass of port wine at his elbow, and looking so comfortable, with that knowing light in his gray eyes, that I could have killed him where he sat.
 "Oh, it is you, is it?" he said, just the very least bit surprised and no more. "Come in."
 "I stood in the doorway hesitating.
 'Don't stay letting in that mon- strous draught, man; but sit down. You'H find bottle on the table and a glass on the shelf"
 poured out glassful and drank it of. The stuff was rare q can re- member it's trick on the tongue to this day), but somehow it did not drive the cold out of my heart. I took an- other glass, and sat slipping it and staring from the fire to my compan- ion.
 He had taken up the flute again, and was blowing few deep notes out of it, thoughtfully enough. He was small, squarely built man, with a sharp ruddy face like frozen pippin, heavy gray eyebrows, and a mouth like trap when it was not pursed up for the everlasting flute. As he sat there with his wig of, the crown of his bald head was fringed with an ob- stinate- looking patch of hair, the color of badgers. My amazement at finding him here at this hour, and alone, was lost in my hatred ot the man as saw the depths of a compla a- cent knowledge in his face. felt that l must kill him sooner or later, and the sooner the better.
 Presently he laid down his flute again and spoke:
 "I scarcely expected you"
 | I grunted something in answer.
 "But I might have known some- thing was up, if I'd only paid atten- tion to my flute. It and are not in harmony tonight. It doesn't like the