Lyon County times. [volume] (Silver City, Nev.) 1874-1907, 1894-05-12

sailor, the other, a smartlsh, slim
chap, thin, dark, lying. His name
was Paul Dawlish.
| remember now, as saw him by
the flash of the light, that he, as
well as |, had been near when "the
squire" held up the two great mug
gets; and it struck me--Tm. quick
at conclusions-that both scoun-
drels had not intended to come up
to the house, but were just lurking
around What for?
Miss Helen-I only know her by
her Christian name-faced them
steadily, though she had called me
to her and asked what they wanted.
"Whv, nothin' IN special, miss"
stammered Dawlish, lifting his rag
ged straw hat with swell mob polite
ness and a leer that made me tingle
to kick him; ''on'y, is the old boss
at home? II mean your pa,
miss" he translated.
"No," she replied, nodding her
head high to show that she was not
frightened; but |, being close to her,
could hear her heart thudding like
a hammer, while the blood famed
on her brows under the foul gaze
rowing over her. "Why do you ask ?"
"Just this, mum. viii you be so
good as to tell him that me and my
pals off to Hulton's ranch for a
short spell, and if he'd like to
tramp over-why, It's mighty
'andsome part o the country, and
he'd be welcome, that's all"
She shut the door upon them,
drawing stout bar across it.
Are those the men he works
WITH" she cried flinging up her
hands. Heaven help usl'
| was casting round for another
job, when she stayed me by asking
if l would go and meet her father.
But you"--
"Nay; do not mind. The little
house is secure. "Why" with a
wistful smile, II am always alone
from daybreak until dark"
| knew it was the fact; so, bidding
her open to none until she heard
me or the squire whistle, started
on my errand.
Not very far had to 60, for |
met him in that same little ravine
of which his daughter had dreamed;
it skirted the pine wood. His pick
was over his shoulder, his right
hand in his pocket-feeling the mug
gets, perhaps He was singing
song in some foreign lingo, Italian
or Spanish. lie looked more con-
tent than | had seen him-more at
rest, nodding to me in his patroniz-
ing fashion.
After few stray words | related
what had happened. advising him
to be ON his guard
Thanks, | WILL" he replied,
haughtily, much amused at the
scamps asking him to pay a visit
in their company. "But I've Sc
cret to tell you, Ned" he added.
II have done with Green Valley
creek, and shaken off its crew.
Luck has favored me beyond my
hopes can afford to turn back
upon it. shall take my daughter
to Melbourne. | have thought of
settling there"
As he spoke, the little tie of COM
radeshlp between us shattered; in a
moment we were aundereG as the
poles, SO quietly he brushed it away.
"You were always an honest tel-
low, Ned-a trusty creaturel Be
sure that you come tomorrow; my
daughter will like to shake hands
Y ith you before she leaves" And
he went on gayly through the rich,
thick grass.
No rest was mine that night; evil
was in the air. So, as / could not
sleep, | got up and went out. Not
being fool, knew | must keep my
misery to myself; but my life was
empty! emptyl You see, l was hard
hit, mate, like the donkeys. What
was Miss Helen to me? What
could she ever have been to me-a
numbering, vagabond chap, not
worthy to kiss the dust she trod on.
But | must go back and watch
the house that covered her for the
last night, So | returned to the ra