The pioneer press. (Miller, Hand County, S.D.) 1893-190?, 1895-08-15
6be Shadow 6
,. ;: : :,,,, Of a Crime.

i SdSlSs pNi uulNNl'' "htA
that terminated for a moment the eN-
piring flame Of life.
Gradually the boys stolid apathy
had melted and he had fixed his sunk
ell eyes upon the spectre.
' At the last question, he Clenched his
small fist and answered between his
clenched teeth:
Il should like to kill him.
"Ha. ha! you're a good boy. I've
got his name written down and where
he lives; you shall have it; some time
or other you may have a chance, you
may-you may"
He fumbled among his rags, and
after a minute drew forth a dirty
scrap of paper, which the boy eagerly
clutched, then he fell back with q
faint groan and the boy stopped over
him thinking that all was over, but
the short, quick breathing told him
that his father still lived.
The cold. dreary night was fast
closing in, and the low sailing clouds
grew darker and darker; the distant
uplands mingled with the horizon, and
a dim was yelling the whole
earth. Down in the hollow. whittier
the child had gone, a light or two be-
gan 10 twinkle.
Not a sound was to be heard save
the rustic of the wind as it swept
over the stubble and through the
hedges. bringing with it the first of
a sleety rain.
Reused out of nis apathy by the
story he had heard, the boy began to
realize the horror of the situation. He
knew his fHther had been suffering
from a low fever and an aguish cold
for many weeks. and that he had been
growing weaker and weaker every
day.
Father, father" he whispered, In a
voice that trembled with fear, how
do you feelT'
There was no answer only a gasp.
The boy lifted his hand; it was cold
and clammy and lay a dead weight in
his.
With an irresistible impulse of ter
ror he sprang up and looked wildly up
and down the road.
There was not a sound to be heard
save now and again the rustling of the
wind; there vas nc creature in sight.
flow he wished he had not sent lit
tie Lucy away; she would have been
some company; and it was horrible To
/ be alone.
For a few moments he stood In the
middle of the road. looking up and
down in the vain hope of some human
craature passing that way, but no one
came.
Then fearfully he went back TO the
heap of stones.
His father was lying Shrunk in a
heap just as he had left him He
stopped down and called:
Father! father"
Not even a gasp this time: and he
could hear no sound of breathing.
T~imorOusly he laid his hand upon
the face. 1t leaped back again as
though it had touched a hot iron, for
instinctively he knew that he had
touched death.
Then, with a cry. he started off and
ran down the road towards the vii
lage as fast as his trembling limbs
would carry him.
Darker and darker grew the night,
until the clouds seemed to rest upon
the earth and all was n blank dim
ness. save where a light twinkled here
and there in the hollow below.
Over the heap of stones where the
dead man lay the wind swept whis-
peringly. as though trying to rouse
him, and brought with it a white sleet
that presently began TO die upon him
like a shrOud
But it's bitter blast could chill him
no more; he was beyond the reach of
cold. and hunger, and heat. and thirst.
after life's fitful fever he slept Well"
That poor s%hrunken heap Of NOR
tality that every N would now
shrink shudderingly from had once
upon a time been a fine handsome
young fellow, for whom ONE broke
their hearts and forgot duty, honor
and God.
He had been born and reared in lux
ury. and had grown up without ever
knowing what it was to have a want
ungratified; and at five-and-thirty
years of age he lay down TO die upon
a heap of stones Of cold and hunger.