The midland journal. (Rising Sun, Md.) 1885-1947, 1896-05-08

self and what she loves is the secret de.
sire of every woman. In her heart she
never can defy the world as does a
man. Even the worst of women want
to be thought ladies. She had carried
off the situation as became the daugh-
ter of a daring adventurer, who in
more stirring times might have been a
Du Lhut or Rob Roy, but she was
sometimes tired of the fighting, some
times wishful that she could hold her
position easier. Suppose the present
good cure should die and another less
considcrate of herself should appear,
how difficult might her position be-
come. Then, she had spirit above her
station, as have most people who know
the world and have seen something of
it's forbidden side; for it is notable that
wisdom comes not alone from loving
good things, but from having seen evil
rs we'll as good Besides, Joan was not
the woman to go singly to her life's
end.
There was scarcely man on Isle of
Days and in the parish of Ste. Eunice,
on the mainland, but would gladly
have taken to wife the daughter of
Tarboe, the smuggler, and it is likely
that the cure of either parish would
not have advised against it.
Joan had had the taste of the lawless,
and now she knew, as she sat and lis
tened to 1.-THE Little Sword that
Danced" that she also could dance for
Joy in the hope of a taste of the lawful
With this money, if it were got, there
could be another life-in Quebec, as her
father said; and then, such as Orvay
Joval Yet she could not forbear
laughing now as she remembered that
first day she had seen him, and she
said now to Bissonnette, her eyes swim
ming with merriment: "Loce, do you
remember the keg in the water pail?"
Bissonnette paused on an out-pull, and
threw back his head with a soundless
laugh, then played the concertina into
fit of contortions again.
"That Lafarge! HIM! He is tres gen.
til; but, pshaw, it is no use that, in
whisky-running. To beat q great man,
a man must be great. T@rooe Noir can
lead M. Lafarge all like that!" 1t
seemed as if he were pulling the nose
of the concertina. And Tarboe then
proceeded to trace kind of maze with
his fingers on the deck, his two eyes
rolling outward like an endless puzzle.
But presently he turned sharp on Joan.
"How many times have you met
him?" he asked.
''Oh! six or seven-eight or nine, per-
haps."
I Her father stared. Eight or nine?
By the holy! Is it like that? Where
have you seen him?"
"Twice at our home, as you know;
two or three times at dances at the
Belle Chatelaine, and the rest when we
were in Quebec, in May. He is anus
ing, M. Lafarge."
"Yes, two of kind" remarked Tar
Doe, dryly, and then proceeded to un-
ravel his schemes to Joan, permitting
Bissonnette, at the same time, to hang
up the little sword that danced, and to
begin ''The Demoiselle with the Scarlet
Hose" She entered into his plans spir-
itedly, and together they speculated
what bay it might be, of the very many
on the Labrador coast.
Speculation was delight, and they
spent two days longer waiting, and
then at dawn there came sauntering up
to anchor a merchantmen, which sig
nailed to the Ninety-nine. In five
minutes Tarboe was climbing up the
side of the Free-and-Easy, and in an
other was in Gobal's cabin, with glass
of wine in his hand.
+ "Well, Gobal, what kept your" he
said. you're ten days late, at least"
sStorm and sickness-broken main
mast and smallpox"
Gobal was not cheerful.
Tarboe caught at something. you've
got our man?"
Gobal drank off his wine slowly, and
then SAID: "Yes."
"Well? Why don't you fetch him?"
"You can see him just as well be-
low"
1.-THE man has legs, let him walk
here. VOLTA! my Gobal, what's the
matter? If he's here, bring him up.
We've no time to lose"
''Tarboe, the fool got smallpox, and
died three hours ago-the tenth since
we started. We're going to give him
to the fishes in brace. They're put
ting him in his linen now"
Tarboe's face hardened. Threatened
disaster did not dismay him, it either
made him ugly or humorous, and one
was as dangerous as the other.
"D'ye mean to say" he said, "that
the game is up? Est-ce que c'est fini?
Sweat O. my soul, my skin crinlles like
hot glass! Is it the end, eh? The beast,
to die!"
Gobals eyes glistened. He had sent
up the mercury, he could now bring 1t
down.
Not such beast as you think. A
live pirate, convict as comrade in adj
venture is not sugar in the teeth. This
one was no better than the worst.
Bien, he. died. That was awkward.
But he gave me the chart of the bay
before he died-and that was gentil."
Tarboe held out his hand eagerly, the
big fingers bending claw-lille.
"Give it to me, Gobal," he said.
"Wait a minute, Tarboe. There is
enough time. Come, there is bell;
they're going to drop him."
He coolly motioned, and passed out
from the cabin to the ships side. Tar
Doe kept his tongne from lashing out
and his hand from Gobals shoulder, for
he saw only too well that Gobal held
the game in his hands. They leaned
over and saw two sailors with some
thing on a plank looking up towards
Gobal.