The Globe-republican. [volume] (Dodge City, Kan.) 1889-1910, 1893-07-14

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him. With an awful supernaturalnes
of instinct it kept on in an unerrlng lin
to the fateful tree! But that drea.
directness of scent was Courtland's op
portunity. His revolver flashed out il
an aim as unerring. The brute, piercet
through neck and brain, dashed OF
against the tree in his impetus, ant
then rolled over against it in culver
ing bulk. Again another bay came
from the same direction. Courtlan6
knew that his pursuers had outfanket
him and the bloodhounds were crossing
the swamp. But he was prepared
again the same weird shadow, as spec
trail and monstrous as dream, dashed
out into the brief light of the open, but
this time it was stopped and rolled ovel
convulsively before 1t had crossed
veins, CORTLAND turned furiously from
the fallen brutes to meet the onset OF
the more cowardly hunters whom he
knew were at his heels. At that mo-
ment it would have Jared i'll with the
foremost. No longer the calculating
steward and diplomatic manager, no
longer the cool-headed arbiter of con-
ficting interests, he was ready to meet
them not only with the intrepid in
stincts of soldier but with an aroused
partisan fury equal to their own. To
his surprise no one followed; the baying
of a third hound seemed to be
silenced and checked; the silence was
broken only by the sound of distant
disputing voices and the uneasy tramp
ling of hoofs. This was followed by
two or three rifle shots, but not either
in the direction of the quarters nor
the Dows' dwelling house. There evil
IDENTIFY was some interruption in the
pursuit. diversion of some kind had
taken place-but rh7t, he knew not.
He could think of no one who might
have interfered on his behalf. and the
shouting and wrangling seemed to be
carried on in the accents of the one
sectional party. He called cautiously
to Cato. The negro did not reply. He
crossed to the tree and shook it impa-
tiently. Its boughs were empty: Cato
was gone! The miserable negro must
have taken advantage of the Est di
version in his favor to escape. But
where and how there was nothing left
to indicate.
AS CORTLAND had taken little note of
the trail, he had no idea of his own
whereabouts. He knew he must re-
turn to the fringe of cypress to be able
to cross the open field and gain the
negro quarters, where it was still pos
sible that Cato had fed. Taking gen.
eral direction from the few stars WIS.,
ible above The opening he began to re-
trace his steps. But he had no longer
the negro's woodcraft to guide him. At
times his feet were caught in trailing
vines which seemed to coil around his
ankles with ominous suggestiveness, at
times the yielding soil beneath his
tread showed his perilous proximity
to the swamp, as well as the
fact that he were beginning to in
cline towards that dread circle,
which is the hopeless instinct of all
lost and STAYING humanity. Luck
lily the edge of the swamp was more
open, and he wodld be enabled to cor
rect his changed course again by the
position of the stars. But he was be-
coming chilled and exhausted by these
fruitless efforts, and at length, after a
more devious and prolonged detour,
which brought him back to the swamp
again, he resolved to skirt its edge in
search of some other mode of issuance.
Beyond him, the light seemed stronger
as of more extended opening or clear
ing. and there was even superficial
CLEAN from the end of the swamp itself
as if from some ignis fatuus, or the
glancing of pool of unbroken water.
A few yards farther brought him to it,
and a full view of the unencumbered
expanse. Beyond him far across the
swamp rose a hillside bathed in the
moonlight, with symmetrical lines of
small white squares dotting its slopes
and stretching down into a valley of
cleaning shafts, pyramids, and tombs.
1t was the cemetery; the white squares
on the hillside were the soldiers graves.
And among them, even at that distance,
uplifting solemnly like a reproachful
phantom, was the broken shaft above
the dust of Chester Brooks.
With the view Of that fateful spot
which he had not seen since his last
meeting there with Sally Bows, food
of recollection rushed upon him. In
the white mist that hung low along the
further edge of the swamp he fancied
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