Omaha daily bee., 1896-06-28

CHAPTER XVI.-CContinued.)
Delchor stopped down and turned over thu
mans inert head so as to show his features.
lies a stranger to me, sir"
"And to me" added my uncle.
but not to me-" | cried. ITS John Cum.
ming, the landlord of the inn at Friar's oak,
I've known him ever since I was a boy, and
/ cant be mistaken"
well, what the devil can he krow about
it?" said Craven.
Nothing at all, in all probability an
swered my uncle. "He is backing young
Jim because he knows him, and because he
has more brandy than sense. His drunken
confidence set others to do the same, and so
the odds came down.
'He was as sober as a judge when he
drove in here this morning. said the land
lord. Hes been backing Sir Charles nomi-
nee from the moment he arrived. Some of
the other boys took the Office from him, and
they very soon brought the odds down among
them"
81 wish he had not brought himself down
as WE'LL said my uncle. 81 beg that you
bring me a little lavender water, landlord,
for the smell of this crowd is appalling, |
suppose you couldn't get any sense out of
this drunken fellow, nephew, or find out
what 1t is he knows"
1t was in vain that l rocked him by the
shoulder and shouted his name in his ear.
Nothing could break in upon that serene in
toxication.
We'll, It's a unique situation, as far as
my experience goes, said Berkeley Craven.
Here we are. within a couple of hours of
the fight. and yet you don't know whether
you have a man to represent you. l hope
you don't stand to lose very much, Tregel-
lis
My uncle shrugged his shoulders care
lessly and took a pinch of his snuff with
that inimitable sweeping gesture which no
man has ever ventured to initiate.
pretty well. my boy!" said he. But it
Is time that we thought of going up to the
Downs. This night journey has left me just
a little etfleure, and | should like half an
hour Of privacy to arrange toilet. If this is
my last kick. it shall at least be with a
well brushed boot
l have heard a traveller from the wilds of
America say that he looked upon the red
Indian and the English gentleman as closely
akin, citing the passion for sport and aloof-
ness and the suppression of the emotions
In each. l thought of his words as |
watched my uncle that morning, for | be-
lieve that no victim tied to the stake could
have had a worse outlook before him. 1t
was not merely that his own fortunes were
largely at stake. but it was the dreadful po-
sition in which he would stand before this
immense conCourSe Of people, many of whom
had put their money upon his judgment, If
he should find himself at the last moment
with an impotcnt excuse instead of a cham
pion to put before them. What a situation
for a man who prided himself upon his
aplomb and upon bringing all that he under
took to the very highest standard of sue
cess. |. who knew him well, could tell
from his wan cheeks and restless fingers
that he was at his wits end what to do,
but no stranger who observed his iaunty
bearing. the Ticking of his laced handker-
chief, the handling of his quizzing glass, or
tho shooting of his rufies, would ever have
thought that this butterfly creature could
have had a care upon earth.
1t was close upon 9 o'clock when we
were ready to start for the Downs. and by
that time my uncle's curricle was almost
the only vehicle left In the village street.
The night before they had lain with Their
wheels interlOcking and their shafts under
each others bodies, as thick as they could
fit, from the old church to the Crawley
Elm, spanning the road five deep for a
good half mile in length. Now the gray
village street lay before us, almost deserted,
save by a few women and children. Men,
horses, carriages-all were gone. My uncle
drew on ibis driving gloves and arranged
his costume with punctiliOuS neatness, but
| observed that he glanced up and down the
road with a haggard and yet expectant eye
before he took his seat. | sat behind with
Belcher, while the Hon. b. Berkeley Craven
took the place beside him.
Inc ROAD from GdWley curves BeHlly up
ward to the upland heather-clad plateau,
which extends for many miles in every di-
%rection. Strings of pedestrians, most of
them 50 weary and dust-covered that it was
evident they had walked the thirty miles
from London during the night, were plod-
ding along by the sides of the road or
trailing over the long notified slopes Of the
moorland. A horseman Enthusiastically dressed
in green and splendidly mounted was wait
ing at the crossroads, and as he spurred
toward us l recognized the dark. handsome
face and bold black eyes of Mendoza.
81 am waiting here to give the office. Sir
Charles" said he. IT'S down the Grinstead
road, half a mile to the left"
Very good, - said my uncle, refining his
mares round into the crossroad.
you haven't got your man there re.
marked Mendoza, with something of sus-
picion in his manner.
what the devil is that to your" cried
Belcher, furiously.
ITS a good deal to all OF us, for there are
some funny rumors about
you keep them to yourself, then, or you
may wish you had never heard them"