Custer weekly chronicle. [volume] (Custer City, S.D.) 1890-1931, 1891-05-16
M a - Z.
A TALE OF A CARAVAN.
by ROBERT BUCHANAN.
CHAPTER XIII.

| ward MS own home, while Jones enter
cd the door Of his cabin.
He would fain have found that cabin
empty, for the memory OF the last scene
In the cave was still upon him, and
made him as nervous as child. But
the old man was there, and wideawake,
and evidently pleased at his sons re-
| turn.
| where haveyou been, William, dearY"
said he. The question was innocent
enough in itself, but ii was full of hid
den meaning for William Jones.
Where have / been?" he repeated;
"at work, to be sure!'
The tone of his reply startled the old
man. He looked up, and saw 10 his
amazement that William was as white
as a ghost, and trembling violently.
What's the matter, William dearr"
he asked, eagerly. Have we seen a
wreck, my SOM"
NO, ain'tw responded his son, viO-
lently; "and look ye now, old 'un, you
jest be quiet, and let me alone, that's
ALI"
The old man, knowing his sons tenn
per, did as he was told, and William
continued to potter aimlessly about the
room. He was certainly trembling very
much, and was almost overcome with a
nervousness for which he himself could
not account. For he was no coward.
To get possession of prize on the high
seas he would have faced storm which
might we'll make brave men tremble,
1 ,nt 20 Aot ha L that hn
had on more than one occasion hui
namely hastened the end of shipwreck-
ed sailors, whom he had found and pill
laged on the shore. After these acts he
had been able to sleep the sleep Of vir-
tue without being haunted by dead
mems eyes. But now the case was diff
ferent. He had not to deal with vic
tim without friends, a man whose body,
described as that OF "shipwrecked
mariner" could be buried and forgot
ten without more ado. In all probabili-
ty there would this time be hue and
cry, and William Jones trembled lest
his share In the CHASTITY business might
ultimately be discovered.
True, he was not actually the culprit,
and so, even at the worst, he might
escape the gallows; but TO man of his
sensitive and affeetionate nature the
thought Of Transportation was not pleas
ant. 1t was this that made him nerv-
GUS this that made him start and trem-
ble at every sound.
Presently q thought struck him.
"Where's Matt?" he asked.
Don't know, William dear; she amt
been here for hours and hours. Maybe
she's on the shore"
Maybe she is-I'll go and have a
look" returned William.
1t must not be supposed for amoment
that William Jones had become afflicted
with n sudden and tender interest IN
Matt-he merely wanted to get quit of
the cabin, that was all, and he saw
in this reasonable excuse for walking
out alone. He accordingly made his
escape, and went wandering of along
the shore.
1t was ten o'clock when he returned;
he was still pale, and drenched to the
skin. The old man was DOING beside
the fire, and alone.
"Where's Matt?" asked William again.
Amt you seen her, William dearp
4 Wall sho ain,t l,ara. 2
i William Jones did look little uneasy
this time. and IL is but due to him TO
| confess that his uneasiness was caused
| by Mats prolonged absence. Erratic
as she was in her movements, she had
not been accustomed to staying out so
late, especially on night when the rain
was pouring, and not glimmer of star
or moon was to be seen.
| wonder what she's doin' off" said
William; suppose I'd best wait up for
her. Here old man. you go TO bed, d. We
hear--yoa amt wanted anyhow
The old man accordingly went to bed.
and William sat up to await Matt's re-
turn. He sat beside the hearth, looked
into the smoldering fire, and listened to
the rain as it poured down steadily up
on the roof. Occasionally he got up
aud went to the door; he could see moth
ing, but he heard the patter of the fall
ing rain, and the low, dreary moan of
the troubled sea.
Hour after hour passed, and Matt did
not come. William Jones began to doze
by the iire-then he sank into heavy
sleep.
He awoke with a start, and found that
IL was broad daylight. The fire was out,
the rain had ceased to fall, and the
morning sun was creeping in at the win
dows. He looked around, and saw that
he was still alone. IIewent into Matt's
room. Itwas empty. She had not re-
| turned.
He was now filed with vague un-
easiness. He made up bit of fire, and
was about to issue forth again in search
| Of the truant, when all further trouble
was saved him-the door opened, and
Matt herself appeared.
She seemed almost as much disturbed
as William Jones himself. Her face
was very pale, her hair wild, her dress
in great disorder. She started on see
ing him; then, assuming rather a devil
may-care look, she lounged in.
You're up early, William Jones'"
she said.
@Yes, l am up early" he replied. gruff-
ly; "cause whyp-'cause l amt been to
bed. And where have you been?-jest
tell me that"
--Why-Ive been out, of course!" re-
turned the girl detiantly.
THAT won't do, Matt" returned Will
liam Jones. Come, you'll jest tell me
where you've been. You amt been out
all night for nothing"
The girl gave him look half of de-
fiance, half of curiosity; then she threw
herself down, rather than sat, upon a
chair.
SIN tired, l am" she said; "and hun
CRY and cold!"
"Will you tell me where you've been,
Matt.' cried William Jones, trembling
with suspicious alarm.
"Course l will, II you keep quiet"
said the girl in answer. There amt
much to tell, neither. / were away
along to Pencroes when the heavy rain
came ON; then l lay down behind hay
stack and fell asleep, and when woke
up ii was daylight, and come home.'
William Jones looked at her stead
tasty and long; then, rs IL satisfied, he
turned away. About an hour later he
left the hut and walked along the shore,