Arizona republican., 1891-06-21

were met by the farmers wife, her sleeves rolled up to the elbows.
 "Ah! John Martin and Davel Back ! from the fair? Come in."
 "Yes, Mary, on the way home. Where is Andrew? David here had turn on | the road coming along below. and we want Andrew to mix him something. The sun was too strong for him, think.
 "Yes, yes. Andrew! Andrewv' She raised her voice and called into the house over her shoulder. "Come in, both of you. He is somewhere about. It is cool in the house at the shady side, and Dave can lie down there." David cast one brief glance backward as he followed the others into the house. In the road just beyond the gate, and looking over it, stood the one that fol. lowed. r......
 Old Andrew was held in high esteem among the mountain people as half doc tor, half wizard, with his knowledge of the use of roots and herbs. He brewed a muddy, pungent tea which David drank, and Mary, the wife, placed extra plates at the table and insisted on the travellers taking supper.
 "Let David rest" she said, land if he is better after supper you can go home in the evening by the short cut. There will be moon; or he may stay the night if not strong enough to go home."
 So it was arranged. Old Andrew and John talked together of the simple, worn subjects of their rude hves-the poverty of the soil, the long season without rain, the many hardships that befall the farmer.
 The wife piled David with questions about the town. Was there a big crowd at the fair? And the weather-was it fine every day? Did you see the COWS from the Duncan farm" and so on. Da. vid answered absently, thinking of the waiting stranger outside the gate.
 When the twilight fell the young man felt able to go on, and was anxious to reach his family, so the two men set out along the path through the rocky fields, As they reached the base of 1.-The Rocks and began the steep ascent the moon rose.
 John led the way, stepping cautiously, calling back to the other to avoid the un' certain footholds.
 But David, climbing after, thought of nothing but the somber shape that had waited outside and had followed close across the fields after them, and which he felt climbed up and up behind him, step for step.
 There was no sound, except when at intervals loose stone rolled down, dis lodged by their feet. The night was beau, tiful, the broad face of the cliff shone in the moonlight. Here and there along | the edge of the path, where there was danger, rude railings had been placed to protect the tray elef; these were silvered by the moon. At some places rock jutting out cast below it dense shadow amid the surrounding whiteness.
 As they climbed, David tried to force himself to turn and face the man in the black cloak, and question him, his name, his mission, why he followed, gaining steadily, step by step, but he lacked courage Once he had met that cold, steady gaze: he could not brave it again. He watched his comrade climb above | him slowly. Slowly he climbed after, and, glancing down, saw the edge of the black cloak blown upward against his legs.
 He stopped and put his hands over his eyes. "Who arc you?" he said in low, broken voice. Why do you follow, pressing nearer and nearer?"
 And a voice answered at his ear, while the folds of the cloak, blown upward, Tapped about him, "You shall know my name when you are at the end of your journey"
 "No, now~ whispered David hoarsely. "Now, your name!
 "Further onp came the voice. 'When you reach the next railing"
 And they climbed on again in the moonlight. John had gone round a turn of the path out of sight David ad, vanced feebly, rising laboriously from step to step, pausing often. He could feel the other pressing up behind him, ever nearer.
 When they reached the railing above David stopped, with his hand upon it. "NCw, your name"
 Do you not know?'
 The moonlight fell with tender beauty over the broad valley below, upon the white road, upon the forest trees, upon the small brown house at the foot of tho cliff. The black cloak foated about his head, before his eyes, coming between them and the fair picture. A hand fell upon his, grasping the railing.
 "Your name!-your name"
 David's hand closed firmly on tht wooden rail, and he leaned heavily against it for support; an arm closed round him.
 q am so near-so near. Do you mol know"
 There was sharp sound of breaking wood as the rotten timber parted in two and David fell outward, his struggling feet scraping along the rock. AS he fel the folds of black swept round him, tht arm embraced him more closely and they went down together. And David knew that the one that followed was Death.- Charles Edward Kinkead in Pittsburl | Bulletin.