Wheeling Sunday register. [volume] (Wheeling, W. Va.) 1882-1934, 1896-05-03

into his customary lassitude, save that
his eyes sometimes rested with pecu-
liar expression OF establishment on the
returned school girl from Breslau.
Gertrud. however. seemed wholly I'M
conscious that she had done anything
remarkable. The repulse of an organ
lied band of c0nvicts might have form
Cd part Of the ordinary curriculum of
ladies' schools in Silesia. so calm and
well accustomed, so demure and I'M
conscious sat the little Truda in her
chair. But she listened eagerly enough
to The talk of her elders.
DOUBTLESS they are waiting for the
night. to steal upon us with the fire
brand and the drench OF petroleum. y
said Alt Karl. THAT is the way we
burn the villages from which the sharp
shooters fire upon our line of march,
There is part of cavalry regiment,
Hussars OF the Black Eagle, lying in St.
Polten." said the Count. IF by any
means we could get the news taken
down there we might hav" S',ccor within
an hour. 1t is but three miles, and If
there we're a man of courage in the
nGlSnDOIuO HS AhiShI i"h WIN 'S
news
Alt Karl shook his head.
1t needs more than courage, and our
men of sense are lying mostly between
here and Koniggratz." he said. Be
sides. the wood-choppers and peasants
Will think that we of the chateau amuse
ourselves with firing at the mark
Alt Karl held those low views of the
intelligence of the country folk about
st. Poten. which are the birthright Of
the true hillman of the Tyrol.
The Count lay back in his chair, deep
in meditation. He drew out Of his
breast pocket a silver cigarette case.
He was on the point Of lighting one,
when his eyes fell on Gertrud Richter.
with your permission, mademoi-
selle," he said bowling courteously.
The words brought grim smile to
the face of Alt Karl, a smile which
ended in little twitch of pain as his
wounded shoulder nipped him.
IT'S just my little Truda home from
school at Breslau. and no mademoi-
selle at all" he explained. For often
in the Austrian Tyrol. with regard TO
the meaning of words, things are not
what they seem.
The Count looked more than little
annoyed and glanced at Truda, but
perfectly unconscious she had taken to
her knitting. with the muskets ready
on the table beside her all the time.
Your permission, Fraulein Gertrud,"
he said politely.
Gertrud smilinglv nodded and said
that indeed. with her fathers habits,
she was well enough accustomed to to-
baccO.
ITO the grand pipe, not to the Whit
fling Of straws." said Alt Karl contempt
Uously, pointing to the array of noble
bowls and six-foot stems on the wall
So with the Count smoking and Ger
trud making occasional reconnais-
sances to the upper windows. the still,
breathleSs afternoon wore on into the
cooler stiffness of the evening sun
shine
All the while little Gertrud was busily
thinking 1t was the Count and her
father whose death the convicts aimed
at For herself. not knowing the heart
Of the human wild beast. she had no
fear. Indeed. had she known all. the
worst would not have affrighted her so
long as within the chambers of her
fathers revolver there 5lumbered an al
tentative.
From CHILDHOOD Gertrud had dWelt in
this place. For fifteen years she had
tried every path. tested every hiding
nloco and hOllOrr in all tho acoed fan
gle of honeycombed limestone country
about ST. Polten. She remembered
especially the long ravine cleft, which