Fort Worth daily gazette. (Fort Worth, Tex.) 1882-1891, 1890-08-02

tent involved. From what Mark naQ
told him, il was clear that Dan Ashton
was dead-lying at the bottom of the. old
pit, down which the msddened man bad
hurled him.
Still knowing this Bob had thought it
wise to drop not the slightest hint to
either Nancy or anyone else. The
truth would become known soon enough
and then all kinds of complications
might arise. In the meantime, Mark
Eliot's fearful secret must be faithfully,
jealousy guarded.
Bob was not without hope yet of being
able TO induce Mark to escape. That
any sane man would sacrifice his free
dom-his life even, he could not believe;
and when the insanity of the moment had
passed away he anticipated that Eliot
would avail himself OF the opportunities
that were offered him.
Although he was sorry for Dan, Cubby
could not find 1t in his heart to blame
Mark very much, for what he had done
justifable rage.
Thinking of all these matters in his
own rough, honest and untutored fash
ion the operative passed beneath the
tall, solemn archway, and plunged into
the silent and gloomy fortresses of the
dark wood.
The mist-like ram was still falling; the
clouds had shut out all signs of the
moon and stars; the air was waveless,
not leaf stirred, and the silence and
blackness of the midnight were intense,
profound.
Along the side of the brook old Bob
sped, his footballs muffied by the moist
ground, and his eyes rowing over the
grass as he proceeded. Upon the old
bridge he paused for few moments,
listened intently, but never sound
broke the deep stiffness that clothed the
wood like thick garment.
Then he followed the narrow winding
path, and presently was standing once
more beside the old shaft. Again he
came to standstill, and holding his
breath, listened.
But out of the deeps of the bleak,
unbroken silence there came not a pulse
of sound. All he could hear was the
throbbing of his own teverlsh heart.
And when he strove TO pierce the unlit
aisies of shadow only signs and shapes of
inanimate things met his straining eyes.
Then he sought another quarter of the
wood; and still that which he eagerly
Still he despaired not. He felt certain
that Mark was yet in the wood some
where, and with the logged pertinacity
of his class he resolved not to quit the
place until be was found.
Hither and thjther he trudged, scour-
ing every avenue and bye-path in his
peregrinations. At first q set purpose
had guided his feet, and he had visited
each spot in the wood he could remem-
Der. Then, at last, weary and half
despairing, he wandered aimlessly over
the wet grass, through the deep bracken,
among the thick undergrowth; now
climbing a wooden ridge, then plunglng
there, anywhere.
And the silent hours of the dark night
fell past, one by one, and still old Bob
pursued his quest.
The day was breaking. In the east the
sky was splashed with fakes of faint
grey, and the stars in the opposite
heavens were growing fainter and
fainter. Wider and brighter the spaces
of grey grew, driving back, swallowing
up the shadows; soon the seas of silver
were flushed with roseate tints; tongues
gorgeous-hued bars of light spread
quickly, melted into one another-and it
was day.
Day, and at last the old factory mans
quest was ended. Wet, bedraggled,
weary and yet glad hearted, old Bob
Cubby stood in the midst of bushy hol-
low, and there at his feet, asleep, lying
face downwards in the damp fern and
grass lay Mark Eliot.
"Mark! rouse up, lad, an come wiz
mel"
He shook the sleeping man gently, and
in a moment or two Eliot started to sit
ting position, gazing about him with
white lace and bewildered eyes.
"Bob! Where am L? What has hap
pened? Is it all q dream? All, no. 1t
is truei Nellie is alive-married-Dan
Ashton is dead, and L am a murderer
He staggered to his feet, his pale,
handsome face mirroring all the pain
and trouble that gnswed at his vitals,
and Bob answered:
"Come womm VII me, Mark-do,
lad. For God IS sake, come! 1t will kill
thee or drahve thee mad to stop here any
lunger!''
The old fellow thrust his arm through
that of Mark, and led him hurriedly,
INTERESTINGLY away
CHAPTER XLIX.-BOB CUBBY'S NOTE.
Again it was evening. For day and
q half now mine host of the Star had
been missing, and, by this time, num-
Der CT people were aware of and talking
about his strange disappearance.
And, apart from this matter, the Cos
sips of Warringham had plenty of food
for discussion. Old Bob Cubby, Nancy
Ashton, and Nellie had done all they
could to make public the cunning fraud
which had been practiced upon Mrs. May
hew s old sweetheart, who was now lying
in a dangerous Illness at the cotton
workers home.
Not few of the shrewder sort of folks
attributed Dan Ashton's disappearance
to Mark Eliot's return. Having heard
of the vile trick which had been played
upon the young man, those who had been
made acquainted with the story imsg-
ined that Dan had flown in order TO
escape the consequences of his scandaious
act.
Everyone sympathized sincerely with
the deceived man, and strongly con-
demned mine hosts duplicity. But
none of them imagined that Dan had al
ready been summarily and terribly pun
Ished for the great wrong he had COM
mitted.
Besides Eliot himself, there were only
two persons who knew anything of the
tragedy in Balcarres wood. These, of
course, were Nellie and Bob Cubby,
neither of whom had uttered syllable