The L'Anse sentinel. (L'Anse, L.S., Mich.) 18??-current, 1896-02-15

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said, folding his beautiful young fan
Gee In his arms; you will not have
long to wait. II my uncle will not sup
port me In decency nor allow me to sup
port myself we will marry. anyhow. ]
have plan, and will not tarry long
in accomplishing It,"
Monita's soft, dusky eyes flashed a
love light up into his face; her red lips
closed like rosebud for kiss.
Il will never marry anyone but you'll"
she cried; lit is only you love-"
With these words ringing in his ears
Raschal drew his coat about him and
disappeared in the gloom of the mes
quite shadows.
Some distance down the river Miser
Quito, as he was called, sat muttering
in his hone The fire was bright that
warmed him; he did not have to spend
money for fuel; the room was COM
Portable; his family had been well to
do; all that they left was his.
"Why does that wretched boy stay
30 late?" he muttered. always anx-
ious to leave me, when anyone might
come in this lonely place and rob me.
Always anxious to work for his living
pah! AS if I could trust hireling to
protect me as Raschal's presence does.
All, will make him suffer for this de-
lay, wretch that he is to leave me thus
alone!'
n heavy step sounded on the stair
outside; the door was pushed open as
the old man unbolted ii and tall,
cloaked figure stepped into the room.
What followed during bitter alter
cation belatcd passers-by who heard
the raised voices could not say. Was
not Miser Quito forever quarreling with
Raschal? And now that he had forbid
den Raschal to marry, was not the quar-
reling likely to be worse than ever?
1t WINS in the gray light of the next
morning that Marco, the woodcutter,
looked up as he passed Miser Quitos
house and saw the print of bloody
hand on the wall beside the door.
Marco grew pale through his swarthy
skin. Bloody deeds were not uncom-
mon sights about San Antonio. Marco
had no horror of them. But whoever
saw seal like that upon the wall of a
mans home? Marco turned with
sudden weakness in his knees and hur-
ried into town.
Among the rush of people who hast
Quito house were Tasca and Pitro. AS
If answering an unspoken accusation,
Tasca turned at the door, crying:
This is not the mark of Raschal's
rund; the fingers are too short and
broad for his"
No one noticed him as the crowd
pushed its way into the miser's living
room and looked down with n sort of
horror upon the battered remains of
the old miser lying in n pool of blood.
The old mans nephew had many
more enemies than friends, and from
them burst cry-like the yelp of
bloodhounds upon a murderer's track
-"Raschal!"
They scattered in every direction in
a self-instituted search for the MUIR
derer. He was nowhere on the prem
ises, and their search here only revealed
the fact that the old man had been
robbed as well as murdered.
Monita lay sleeping through the
early morning hours, the fringe OF her
long lashes lay on the rounded flesh of
her cheeks, and blotted out that Grim
son-hued shadow that had fallen with
the New Year dawn upon her life.
OF all San Antonio she was the only
one who did not go TO look at the print
of the crimson hand. OF all San An
tonic Tasca was the only man who
could not see that the contour of the
red palm and blooddripping fingers
was that of Raschal Quito.
The next day Miser Quito was buried
in his own grounds, for no money could
be found for n burial elsewhere, and tho
expense that the town went to was paid
out of the sale of some of his handsome
effects. They sold Mt mere trifle, for.
the people said: "Raschal will never
come back to be hanged" and they did
not scruple to make good such a chance