The Kinsley graphic. [volume] (Kinsley, Kan.) 1890-1940, 1893-06-30

sedPe-grass."
She had calculated all the chances;
Mrs: Loriner was unfailingly due in
the dairy at that time Of day. Lorimer
as unfailingly at the corn-crib, super
vising the mules evening meal; Dick
and Rafe, her most devoted suuires,
were fortunately out at the landing,
keeping watch and ward over a big
shipment of cotton.
She drew ner shawl closer about her
shoulders as she passed from under the
shelter of the portico. 1t was cooler
than she had expected to find it, and
there was suggestion of rain in the
raw autumn air. At less excited mo-
ment, she would probably have turned
back and given up her rash expedition,
or else prepared herself for disagree
able possibilities with waterproof and
umbrella.
She did neither. She pushed on as
rapidly as possible; past the Struggling
negro cabins, whence the odor of frying
bacon and weak coffee fioated sicken-
.ingly to her Disguised nostrils; beyond
the large wooden boundary-gate, which
sagged so badly on its hinges that it re-
quired botk her hands and all her
strength to open it; out into the I'M
cultivated parts of the place, where
the dry rattling corn and cotton-stalks
gave way to broad eXpanses of tall red
dish sedge-grass which lined the clayey
slopes. and made acceptable bits of
color, In bright contrast with the vivid
evergreen of the dwarf pines that soon
closed her in from possible detection
from the house.
She moved forward without any def
mite plan of action, or any defined
course. Wherever she detected the
slightest indication of trodden path
among the slippery pine needles, she
followed it to it's termination; perhaps
it would end suddenly where strag-
Cling growth of cane had tempted the
hungry cattle into pleasant by-ways.
She could hear the soft tinlSle of cow
bells amidst the dense greenery of the
cane that waved far above their horned
heads and closed them in from sight
Perhapsit would end, in the most incon-
sequential fashion, in the midst of a
clump of pines, over whose dwarfed
heads she could see a chill pallid pink
glow feebly painting the western sky.
With abrupt suddenness one of
these blind leads began to descend. At
her feet lay a ravine. Deep, deep down
wards it extended, its ragged sides
clothed with woodland growths of man
fold sorts. Tall trees there were, vine
clad with ruddy-leaved creepers to
their very apex. standing SO far
down in the ravine that their leafy
crowns We're on a level with her
own unsheltered head. A tangled will
derness of shrubs and trees spread at
her feet. She could hear sleepy birds
twittering among the branches of the
trees. She could see where the same
tangled growth of vine, shrub and
tree, that fell abruptly away from her
where she stood on a grassy projection,
climbed upward again as abruptly
across an intervening space of perhaps
fifty feet.
''This must be Dry bayou! And to
think she never should have heard of it
before!"
planted among the soft green MOSES.
while the red-brown plumes of the
sedge-grass waved closely about her slen-
der shoulders. 1t was very still out there.
''Solemnly beautiful she called it.
The soft gray twilight enwrapped the
earth earlier there than elsewhere.
Stretching at her feet was narrow but
distinct trail. She shranlx from the de-
scent. 1t was late. 1t would be no
pleasant thing to lose ones self down
there among those bosky shadows.
Close to her, so close that she could
have leaned against its trunk had she
been so minded, stood an oak tree whose
life current had been sapped by the
usurping mistletoe that clothed the
gray dead branches with clusters of
living green. A moclSing bird futtered
across the shadowy ravine. and, light
ing upon a mistletoe bough. woke the
echoes with his varied melody. Johns
wife pushed the damp hair that was
clinging to her temples back behind her
small ears, with a gesture of impatience
that was linked to pain.
The mocking bird was calling to his
mate. Where was the wanderer? The
plaintive note of a wood pigeon floated
up to her from the shadowy recesses of
Dry Bayou. 1t furnished dulcet minor
to the mocking birds clear notes. 1t
struck a responsive chord in the excited
fancy of that lonely listener there
among the russell grasses.
''She is lonely, that unseen dove! So
am 1. Oh! John, SO am II She laughed
historically at what she called, in audi
BILE tones, wild foolish fancy begot-
ten of the hour and the place. Her
moods were as variant as the notes of
= :, x,,,l l.xsl l.l, IL
song under the mistletoe bough. With
a sudden outflinging of her arms, she
called aloud: John! John Lorimer!
Husband! Where are you, John?"
The mocking bird hushed his whist
ling and flew away, startled. Only the
far off tinlSling of a COW bell and the
nearer plaintive moan of the wood pi-
geon broke the deathlike stiffness. Her
excited nerves were not soothed by ma
ture's plant mood. She stamped her
foot passionately, crying aloud: "A
sweet, wild trysting place for saint
and a married man! abhor myself!
abhor him.
Then reason itself seemed to fly away
startled, as the mocking bird had done,
and left Johns wife standing there, a
swayed woman, no longer capable of
rational action or thought.
Two moving objects had come upon
the still landscape, across the narrow
ravine, blurring and blotting out all
the beauty of it for Nora Lorimer.
From her coigne of vantage she could
plainly discern Johns tall, muscular
figure in its garb of drab corduroy. He
was slightly in advance of his compan-
iona woman, well muffied in hood and
gossamer, better guarded against the
chill autumnal air than For little Nora
had thought to guard herself.
John trudged fearlessly and sure
footedly down the crooked, winding
trail on the opposite side of the ravine.
His companion followed more timorous-
ly. At a certain spot Nora saw her hus-