Waterbury evening Democrat., 1893-05-16

thing in a big yellow sunbonnet, and a
white spotted blue gown. Wherever
rode on the ranch. was sure to meet
Nancy, riding too. liked to meet her
and talk, though we always kept at
arms length, mind you. Well, she died
NEUTRALITY-SUSPICIOUS., the settlement
doctor said. Yet l began to think it
was something else.
''Then went to q ranch of my own,
and took n partner. He was young
Scot, full of life and strength. In less
than three months he was dead also
dysentcry, the doctor said, but knew
bctter-I knew it was Stone!" and he
smiled grimly at the bitter joke.
''Well, took another partner" with
agitation Stone went on. He was the
best of them all-the swcetest-tempered
lad that ever laughed-it was pleasure
to be near him. We lived ten happy
months together, toiling and prosper
ing. And then one day rode to the
settlement, to the bank there, leaving
my partner alone. All our men were
away raclleting and drinking; so l
hurried back. 1t was night when !
reached the shanty again, but though
all was silent all seemed right. stabbed
my horse and turned towards the shanty-
door Then for the first time it struck
me that there was no candle burning in
the room.
"'Will! WIZ! l callcd--no answer.
''Shuddcring, l stumbled in and struck
a match. A draught from tho open
window at once put out the light, but
not before l had seen my partner prone
i'll his blood on the floor.
''lIc was shot" Stone added, after q
solemn pause. ''IIe must have been read
ing that afternoon, for Pendennis, his
favoritc book, lay beside him. lie must
have seen a flight of duck or some other
game come in view. He must have
picked up his gun and jumped to the
window, and the trigger must have
caught against the chair. For long,
| sloping wound was in his sidc-the rife
| lay slanting towards him. And there
he must have lain for hours, bleeding,
bleeding to death, and all alone.
''Coincidcnce-all coincidence, you'll
tell me-" my travelling companion went
on, with a gulp in his voice. Mere
chance, of course, and all that; you
| don't believe in fate, do you? Lucky
men never do"
''IIe would have shot himself by ac-
cident just the same if he had been
any OlIlSr man pdruner, Sllu l.
Come, man, you've brooded over these
funeral matters till your mind is NOR
bid. suppose if this train went smash,
and people you never heard of were
killed in the tail carriage, you'd think
it was your fault, eh?''
81 shouldn't be surprised" he said.
81 am kind of Jonah, know. If l
could afford it I'd always travel by spe-
cial train"
And did you never come to grief
YOURSELF"
Never a days sickness all the ten
years-and Heaven knows did things
rash enough. But that isn't all. sold
off that accursed ranch and went
seventy miles further up-country.
didn't take a single head of stock or
stick OF furniture with me, and l got
q new rig out of clothes. I thought
that complete change might take
the curse off, perhaps; but it didn't.
Before | had been at tho new place
six weeks I fell in love. The next door
rancher was n man from Glamorgan,
and she was his sister-the loveliest
| Welsh girl with the prcttiest Welsh
| burr that was ever thrown away in a
| wilderness. She loved me, too, and
fool and viIlain-likc l married her
But first l warned her people and her
self about the danger. They laughed
ut me, of course. Yet four months