Elmore bulletin. [volume] (Rocky Bar, Idaho) 1889-1906, 1891-11-14
there would be no one for me TO speak TO

He took a sheet OF paper with half filled
page and wrote; then folding and directing
IL, put il In his little writing case "You
will find IL there he said And this pert
manteau," he continued, ''can GO ms 1t il.
There are some things in il for my little SIS
ter Maggie; I've got them at different
places I've been to: please see that she has
them. And there are some books for my
eldest brother: be likes old books"
'You have brothersfn inquired
Two; they're both older than am. NV
father is dead. lie died In Germany: we
were living there at the time. That is how
come to know German. wish didn't
He sat silent, his head resting ON one hand,
the fingers Of the other idly tracing figures
on the table; now and then he gave a shiver-
ing sigh. AT last he looked up and spoke
'sDo you-do YOU he began in an un-
certain voice. He went on more collectedy.
''Do you believe, YOU know. in future life,
and all thati Some fellows don't They do
at homen
.Your mother doesr' | said "Trust to
her"
Eyes, she believes = he said, with a sigh.
He fumbled in his pocket and brought out
a small New Testament "She gave me this
at school, he said, land told me to bring Il
abroad with me. That is her mark in itn
He opened II and turned over the leaves;
but In moment laid IL down and passed his
hand over his eyes
II can't see" he said, "the words are all
dazxled Read me something, won't you,
There. where the mark is
He pushed the book 10 me across the table.
took it up. A blue ribbon divided the
leaves; the book opened of itself | read as
directed, where verse marked in pencil first
caught my eve.
let not your heart be troubled. neither
let il be afraid; We have heard how have
said unto YOU, 60 away
A mist passed before my own eyes: |
closed the book my dear lad. said, "I'm
neither clerk nor parson; more's the pity, il
II would be any help 10 you But il you fol-
low my advice you will take the comfort Of
your text and sleep upon II for the next few
hours. You'll be all the better man to-mor.
row morning for nights rest. !"
He did not Immediately answer He had
taken up the book and was letting his eyes
stray over the pages, spoke again
Could You sleep, do you think, IL left
your | said
~ don't know--f1 try" he said rather
vaguely. He closed the book and rose. | rose
hlsOs anu Sibpu L nAftflN nkPI 10
leave him alone, yet his chance OF rest, |
thought, might be greater 50 than IL ! re
mained He understood my doubt appar-
emily.
"rm all right now he said II dare say |
shall sleep as YOU say Thank you for com.
ing in; don't plow what should have done
without YOU
He smiled family and held out his hand !;
fhara were tAsara in his avaa. his hn,.d 49,.
cold as ice | asked him a few questions
brief as could make them, about the morn
ings arrangements. The meeting was to take
place, found. ut spot knew, in a wood
just without the town walls, where the ruins
Of an old abbey stood on grassy lawn. II
shall see you in the morning. | said, and
with the promise wrung his hand and left
him.
went back To my own room. and, dressed as
| was, threw myself on the bed Not for a
moment did intend that this iniquitous duel
should go on. At earliest dawn proposed
to rouse the landlord, 10 stir up the city
guard, IL needful. nay. to call out the town
garrison itself rather than permit an act of
criminal and unnecessary folly. All this, 1
say, intended. For a while | Law wakeful
and attentive; heard a chair pushed back
In the adjoining room, and footsteps moving
uncertainty to and fro; then deep silence.
The young fellow, ! concluded had followed
my advice, and betaken himself to bed for an
hour or two. The town clocks struck three.
and with the determination 10 rouse my
self at half past 4, ! passed into a profound
sleep Alas | was young; | was tired
out At half-past | fell into uneasy
dreams dreamed that had risen, that /
had dressed in haste, that | had made my
-. he. LII al. a
He was seated in his shirt sleeves ON the edge
of the bed. "Surely 1t is not time to go yet, "
he said, and began TO cry like girl |
dreamed that awoke, and turned to dream
again. This time il was the boy who came
In to me as was dressing hastily. '.Itis all
over he cried joyously. Not soul was
hurt. start for home at once" aThank
God answered. and with the words woke
with start, woke in truth this time, sitting
up on my bed bewildered for moment. Ii
was broad daylight looked at my watch :
II wanted but twenty minutes 10 o. caught
up my hat and burst into the adjoining
room. 1t was empty On my headlong why
down the stairs | stumbled over my friend,
the old waiter In a breath told him what
bad happened, and rushed from the house.
rushed from the house, across the steep
arched bridge. through the town gate and
out into the wood beyond. Deep in the heart
OF the wood stood the ruin; had not a mo
ment 10 loss. The rain had ceased, but the
clouds were still low and threatening. Ire
member still hardly noted at the time
the damp, gray morning air, thick with
mist, the drenehed weeds and grass. the trees
weighed down with moisture, powerless to
rally in the dense atmosphere. The road, a
grassy, cart rutted track, lay before me,
winding among the trees IL lay plain be-
fore me 10 follow, but | thought II would
never end; II seemed interminably long;
| thought that it never would end.
came upon the scene suddenly at last
a cleared space, some walls and high
springing arches ON slender columns, grassy
level in front, stree lhing from tree 10 tree on
either hand. had visited ii but yesterday
and found il empty Of human life Today q
scattered group of men occupied the fore
ground. | saw my poor lad, saw him
stand as he had been placed, and raise his
pistol with a shaking hand uttered cry
he turned his face for q second, trembling
smile ON his white lips Il am here, you see
its all right he seemed 10 say. The next
moment there was report The pistol
dropped from his hand. he turnsa and fell
face downward, dead
The smile was still on his lips Poor lad,
poor ladl-Temple Bar.
y