Idaho news. (Blackfoot, Idaho) 1887-1891, 1889-01-19

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his own gentle way.
A couple Of miners came swearing
out OF the tavern, and after quarrelins
at the gate finally go arm in arm in Q
most unsteady manner up the north
| road.
You'd better go now, joe" she
says afraid that the next departure
will be in their direction.
Joe is of this opinion also. With
one more pressure of his big, strong
arms about her he goes swiftly down
the narrow path to the valley below,
where his faithful horse welcomes him
with prolonged neigh.
-.
The morning sun shines brightly
over the tall peaks that rise almost
perpendieularly above the little tay-
ern. and Helen Baxter leaning out of
her open window with heart beating
with such peace and joy as it has never
known before. thinks that she has
never looked upon a clearer or a
brighter day. For he, the wanderer
and exile, is returning. and with a
brother who loves her devotedly and a
lover who adores her-''She is a queer
girl indeed who wouldn't be content
with these. says Helen as she gazes
at old Sol with the delight and steadi-
ness of the bird whose carved image
hangs just above her head.
What's thatT' says voice beneath
the window. and looking down she
saw young Willoughby standing, with
his hands in bis pockets, his hat on the
back of his head. and rather defian:
air about him.
o. is that you, Sam? Wait"
She runs lightly down the rickety
apology for stairway, and turning
into side room whose open window
overlooks her small garden. beekons
Sam to their favorite trusting place.
He walks up quite leisurely, but she
does not notice his peculiar manner,
for is not the image of another man be-
fore her eyes as she looks joyfully out
on that beautiful summer morningp
Sam thinks there is, and with reason,
too. for he was the jealous eayesdrop-
per of the evening before. and had
heard enough to convince him that his
Helen was behaving badly. and needed
some reproof which he would present.
ly give.
%. Samr' says Helen, leaning out
OF the window and speaking in whis-
per, I've got something to tell you"
The young ranchman looks up in
surprise. Is confession of her CO.
quetry coming, and shall he forgive
her and take her to his heart again?
And If ne does, what pledge can he
exact that the performances of that
evening will not be repeatedp
While he is hesitating on this impor-
tant matter, she gives him another and
more disagreeable surprise.
'.But I'm not going to tell you. Sam,
just yet"
This Is too much for his patience.
''No-I don't think you will tell me
you're ashamed tor he blurts out an
grily. But I'll tell you something.
was passing, by accident. last night,
and l heard a thing or two"
What did you hearP" she asks anx-
iously."
Heard him call you dear,'' con-
fesses Sam. looking somewhat sheep
lsb. as he notes the perfect self-posses-
sion even in the face of this damaging
evidence of = witness who '.was
there"
The girl leans still further out of the
window and laughs till the tears come
into her eyes. At last she understands
his suspicious manner.
Dear Sam. " she says, when the
laughing fit has passed. II can't ex-
plain it to you now, but you'll have |
in me. even II a strange
man did call me dear Won youP"
He hesitated for moment, but her
band is stretched invitingly towards
him, and her face beams 80 lovingly |
upon him, that every suspicion vanish
IS for the time. and he seals his admis-
ZION, of confidence with kisses.
Going around to the stable some
lalf hour later he meets Silas, who is
an old cob.
"Goin'. ehP'
Yes" says Sam shortly, for the
gray. weazle-eyed old man, whose
lame is a synonym in those parts of
III that is mean and cowardly in hui
nan nature. is no favorite of his.
As he saddles the mare and Ieisurely
mounts her, he bethinks himself that
word of warning may not be lost on
he old man.
Say, Uncle 81, I s'pose you're on
he lay for new customersp' he asks
'arelessly.
Depends" replies SiIas, smoking
'lacidly.
IF they can pay The shotP Well,
be one mean can"
"Where 10 heP' asks Silas, still
a Il