St. Johnsbury Caledonian. [volume] (St. Johnsbury, Vt.) 1867-1919, 1894-03-15
Selected Story.
EAGLES CRAG.

but little snow as yet, but for fort
night a black and bitter frost had
made the tracks like iron and held
the river in its grip. Over these lone
ly miles of heather, beyond where the
deep dark loch lies with mountains
on two sides rising sheer from its
brink. grim and sleeper than any
prison walls, came young girl.
When the wind whistled round her
with a sharper, keener gust than
usual, she hid her face in her
rough, homespun shawl; when the
hand that held basket nipped and
ached with the searching cold, she
breathed on it and chafed it with the
other and now and then she kept
lifting her eyes to the sky somewhat
anxiously, for the early coming dark
ness seemed even too early, and
these were surely snow clouds over
Craig-ma-skeldie. That little cot
tage, the farthest that could be seen
standing lonely and remote away up
on the far off hillside, was her
destination, and it was good two
hours walk.
"The shaw is keep aft for awhile
yet" she thought, IAN if | shouldna
win hame afore dark mither'll haze
the lamp lit in the winda, an I'll no
feel lanesOme.
There is no place in the world more
solitary than those mountain glens
in the dead of winter, but this girl
was not nervous, and she knew
every step of the way. Between her
and her home there was only one
other dwelling. That was coy
enough building of gray stone, with
a tidy bit of ground about it, just
where the moorland road began to
slope upward and become a hill
track. Lizsie Lowden had long ago
made up her mind that she would
take the other side of the moor
rather than pass close by the door of
Alan Grant, the gamekeeper. There
used to be two brothers at Moor
foot-Alan, the gamekeeper, and
Sandie, the younger, a shepherd.
Now there was but one, for Sand1e,
the "blythest lad an the brawest in
a. the glen 1.-The dainty chiel' of
the "auld folk" and the ''secret ane"
in more than one maiden's heart, had
disappeared.
Disappeared suddenly and strange
", and yet after first talk had died
down there seemed little mystery in
it after all. Sandie had too much
push and spirit, some said, to remain
long what he was-a shepherd in a
quiet glen. He had been heard to
say that he would be 'aff some fine
day, and they would need to find
anither to dance Chile Callum' at
the gathering in summer and sing
sang by the winter fire."
And one fine spring morning his
dog wandered, with dropped head
and melancholy eyes, around the
house and over the we'll known
track, and all Alan said was that
Sandie "hadna cam hame last NIGHT,
and as his money has game, too, he
supposed he was spendin it some
where"
AN nae wonder, he was sick O
likes of him." was the commonest
comment when his words were re-
ported, for the elder brother was no
favorite. Big and strongly made.
with a dark face and silent, taciturn
ways, he was no sympathetic COM
panion for his light hearted brother.
1t would be year ago come April,
and people had cea sed to surmise or
even to think much, but Lizzie Low
den thought OF little else, though she
had spoken less than any, and to-
night her heart was full of it.
She came to a paling and put
down her basket to climb. She had
been running for some distance be-
fore coming to it and stopped mo-
ment to take breath. The moor
rose Immediately beyond, and then
dipped into a sort of hollow. Beside
the paling, little below where she
was, lay biggish stone. The
ground was white, though it was
but a sprinkling of snow that COW
cred it, but just beside the stone
something drew her attention. She
came nearer. The color rushed into
her face and left it pale. The snow
there was red dyed, crimsoned with
blood, but that was not all. There
were marks beyond, terrible CHASTITY
traces. Here the impress of-eh,
could it be? hand! There, as if
some heavy body had dragged itself
or been dragged up the slope, and all
the way that horrible CHASTITY track
Whatever it was-man or beast
it Law just out of sight, hidden in the
hollow. Her breath came and went
in little gasps. Must she pass it?
She must hide her eyes and fly past,
never looking, hardly stopping till
she was near home, but for mo-
ment her limbs refused to move.
Then. long and low, on the frightful
silence came-a moan? She was a
woman, and pity was stronger than
fear. 1t was anguish unto death
that called her, and she almost flew
in the direction of the sound. Her
foot stumbled on something. AL
most before she looked, with a sick,
shndderinp annrehenSlOn. she knew