The Mena weekly star., 1896-08-26

sleuth hound. that tracks down the great and the small alike. Youthful limbs may for time outrun him; but stumble, and his fangs are in your throat. With old age, he draws nearer and nearer; there is no escaping him. Barbara glanced fearfully round, as if she heard his breathing behind her as if the grisly presence might be crouching for the spring in the shadow of the old dresser.
 God have mcrcyl the bell pealed out imperionsly, impatiently, as the old lord was wont to ring if when his sum- mons was not answered on the instant. Barbara started upright, her hair stir ring and her flesh creeping from fear. A hundred strange thoughts raced through her brain. Could it be the young master who had found his way in unheard and unseen? Could it be the dead father who needed help? Still. the bell changed loudly. For Barbara there was one thing to be done. The house was i'll her care. The last servitor of the Blackadders must not fail. She must answer the call.
 With shaking fingers the brave ola woman lighted the candle and retrdced the dark passages. In the hall she took down from its nail Vivian Blackadder's sword and approached the closed door of the dining-room. From behind ii came a noise, like the soft rustling of skirts against the floor and the walls: then strange inarticulate cry of anger or of terror. Barbara hesitated for a moment, then turned the handle and pushed open the door. She stood on the threshold with the light held i'll one hand in front of her. and the sword grasped in the other. The room was in darkness, but across the narrow space illuminated from the door there fioated noiselessly vague black object on a level with her eyes. She stepped back a pace and remained spellbou1d. Again. the shapeless thing came and disappeared. third time it returned from it's circuit; but now it came swift ly towards her, disclosing a horrible white face in which were two round and flaming eyes that seemed to scintil- late yellow sparks. The light was blown out, and Barbara Rankin, still holding the blade pointing at the in- truder, fell with crash on the stone floor in dead faint.
 Long after, she came to herself; she was cold and stiff, and she crept to her bed, where she lay trembling and won- dering until dawn. Morning brings light and comfort. It brought the ex- planation of the mystery of the night. An owl had found its way down the open chimney into the dining-room. The sooty impress of its wings and talons was traced all over the white washed ceiling and cornices, and one could see where the terrified bird had clung desperately to the exposed bell wires.
 1t might be the harbnger of an- other night wanderer. Barbara stepped forth into the morning air, and making her way to the spot where the Lindean burn breaks from under the cover of the wood, stood shading her eyes with her wrinkled hand and gazing wlstful- ly along the road that wound down into the plain. Under the ragged can opy of the leaves brooded pale, amber colored light. Not breath of air was stirring; yet the russet and yellow leaves lost their hold and fioated down to earth in q perpetual gentle shower The first snow of winter had fallen. It lay in the hollows of the wood in long swathes, like winding sheets. which the descending leaves had spot ted as with blood. The scarlet hipber- ries gleamed from the naked thorns above tangled tapestry of bracken and bramDle. With the stream foated fraiI and painted argosies, and below the sur face the water was full of sodden and rotten leaves, ali on a downward yov- age. Nature was visibly dying from age and exhausted energies. It was lovely with the loveliness of decay. Near and far the landscape was full of strange. ~fude notes of color. The trunks of the birch trees that lined the course of the brook glimmered whitely through the pale purple haze of their lichened branches. Beyond them the golden tassels of the larches rose above the funereal plumes of the spruce wood. On the dead-green of the steep grassy banks were ruddy scars and gashes: and lower down, where the morning fog was rising like smoke from the stubble-land, the plowmen were turn. ing long red furrows.
 Out of the mist, making his way to- wards the house of Lndean. emerge3 a man on horseback. A flush of joy came into Barbara's withered cheek. and she made several swift steps towards the