Waterbury evening Democrat., 1890-05-16


ssDon't shoot me againi' gasped TIE fallen
man am Orson Beami I've come to1aye
you'll Men out there are going to kill YOUR
Richard gave him one look Of wonder and
Consideration, then leaped over his body and
bolted the door, whirled about and shu t the
window and dropped the shade over it, then
he turned to Beam.
sOh, my poor friend, where did hit YOUR
he groaned, falling on his knees beside him.
"In my side here. guess it's not bad:
fell mostly from exhaustion, I think"
painted Beam. Elchard tore open his cloth
ing and found the wound. 1t was not Sc
rious but bleeding freely, and he sprang up
the little stair to the room above, drew
sheet from the bed, and descending, tore it
in large strips and bound them tightly
around the mans body. Then he brought a
face and hands of this grimy savior Of his
with the tenderness of a woman.
''Where did you come from, and why did
you do this!" asked Elchard, gently.
81 came from town." said Beam. 81
found out by accident that they meant to-
to kill you tonight. l wanted to prevent
it."
"What got you in such plsht?'
81 had to climb the face Of the mountain;
they were ahead Of me-"
Elchard gave an exclamation of astonish-
| ment. Beam got up waveringly and looked
at him. Elchard put out his hands CRATE
fully, but the wounded man drew back and
his eyes filed. ''No,'' he said, "I'm not fit.
tried to kill you the other day. This is my
restitution, and if you can forgive me it is
all ask"
Elchard stared at him in dumb amaze
ment for q moment, then he caught the
mans hands and wrung them. "You are
Free" he said. "You have earned forgive
ness, and it is yours"
They had scarcely thought of the as
sassins, their meeting had been so strange,
but now they listened. Evidently the men
had fed. Elchard turned to Beam. II was
! going to start for the East tonight" he
| SAID. "Miss Hartman is waiting for me-"
Beams paleness deepened, and he leaned
| against the desk for support. "Yes-yes,
you-should CO." he faltered.
"But shall never go and leave you in
| this accursed quarter of the world" said
Elchard at was reported that you had
| gone, but now see why you have re-
| NAMED, and shall not desert you"
"No, you must not wait for me; can not
! go yet" said the other. ''Not now-not yet;
when I am better l will come" and he
wavered about and sat down. Elchard
| looked at him with swimming eyes. He
could not divine what was in this mans
heart, but something about him touched his
own heart with great pity.
houses" said the wounded man, YEARLY,
II will stay there till morning. Then one
OF the men may be can get my horse and
clothes and go with me to the railroad. If
| I'm not able to go they can get me the doc
tor, and will stay here few days, then
start. Mother. is waiting for me at Chey-
enne; she will be glad to know OF this; it
will be my greatest reward"
II will wait and take you to her." said
| Elchard resolutely
like CONSERVATION. mo, I must not
can not 90 yet! We are friends
now; please let me wait until you
are gone and we shall remain so. Miss
Hartman is in danger every moment; you
must 90 tonight If you feel what have
done makes you my friend; II you are
obliged to me, please take-her-now-be-
fore harm comes to herP'
| Elchard put his arms about the mans
shoulders and held him moment; his heart
was full. The truth as to this brother-be-
ing was glimmering in his consciousness.
He said nothing; words were not for such a
case.
He went upstairs and brought down some
of his own clothing and left them by the
man, who sat with head leaning forward
upon the desk. "Please occupy my room
until you are WE'LL" said Elchard, huslkly.
II will send up a man to watch with you,
and another to guard the place. You shall
not lack for friends and comforts until you
are ready to go. Goodbye"
Beam lifted up his head and put out his
hand. Elchard took it in both of his,
stopped down and kissed it with a broken
"God bless you," and passed out into the
night. In half an hour he was driving down
| the mountain.
But what of the woman whom these men
lovedl What of the human wolves from
whom she had fed away into the darknessl
In the same hour that Orson Beam was
toiling up the face of Eagle mountain one OF
the saddest tragedies that ever stained the
Wasatch range was occurring over at
Gray's peak When the carriage bearing
the three figures drew out Of Hartman's
lane, it passed across the stream and di-
rectly up the valley The tires Of the wheels
were bound with cloth and the horses feet
were muf1ed. It moved forward In the
darkness like phantom. Eyer and anon
the woman struggled, but the two men held
her like q wise between them. Her breath
ing was labored and difficult, the block
~Aa<1 49, Nj ma.