The Cape Girardeau Democrat. (Cape Girardeau, Mo.) 1876-1909, 1897-01-09


swinging her big bouquet of purple
jimPsons back and forth, as he talked
everything else but sermons and the
Methodism at that moment being ex-
pounded in the Village church.
TOO warm for that doctrine this
morning" he said. We'll just try a
little theology of our own, up there
under the devils pulpit" pointing TO
a huge pile of rocks near town, thrown
together like a big black platform.
He turned his merry dark eyes upon
the sunshade as he quoted:
Wherever Cod erects a house of prayer.
The devil always builds a chapel there "
Were in a dangerous way, then"
she replied, in grave alarm. They
might count us in"
oh, never. We'd be recognized as
'cats in strange garrets' at once; but
wait a minute" as they approached a
little adobe hut. Lets see if old San
doyal is at home. 1t is no end OF fun 10
guy him, and 1 expect he'll xii! rne yet.
He has five cents. or maybe p cents hid
den away somewhere under these mud
bricks, and l told him l was coming
around to-day to dig up the floor and find
it. He actually believed me, and l have
no doubt has been all day hiding the
paltTy shekels in some new place"
The girls attention was at that mo-
ment engaged by a burro sleePily fall
ing Oyer the high banks of the Galisteo
river, and she did not look into the shah
by room. How many times afterward
she wished she had.
In a few minutes Lan-ford wa IL her
side again, a little out of breath from
haste. His face was flushed, too, as he
said, laughingly:
Il just slipped a cactus blossom in
the old fellows bed. It'll be only "a
little faded flower by night, but it will
have its reminders of me-"
Macbeth doth murder sleep you
remember, and you are the same stripe
of assassin, only your way is worse than
knitting" the girl said.
Think so? Well, go on with your
sermon" as they reached a shady place
under the very droppings of the great
pulpit. Il don't mind it in a cool re-
treat like this. with plenty OF to
stretch myself" and Fred Langford
pushed his hat back from his forehead
in a boyish way, and felt for his hand
kerchief. There, another handker-
chief gone! IfIIose one lose so year.
But say. go IN with your little preach.
1 rather like to hear you"
\ dark. low-browed Mexican ac-
quaintance stopped in the grateful shade
Just then.
"She says I committed a murder back
there on old %Sandoval, Garcia, and she's
trying to make me sorry for it." Lang
FORD said, lightly. in Spanish.
What's that?" the Mexican asked,
n surprise.
ON. she says 1 am a murderer-one
CT your t~hroat-cutters, you know. But
I didn't dig up the old mans money
/ left that for you" and he laughed at
the wondering CLEAN in the mans black
eyes. as he passed on.
What makes you talk so?" Kate
MGrkley asked. Can you never be
serious? Now, that Mexican half be-
lieves what you said"
Whats the odds if he does? Say.
Kate, do you believe in everlasting pun
ishment. or just the many stripes OF
r]etribution we get here be!ow?' he
asked. turning the subject with a sud
den, characteristic twist.
So the conversation passed on, in a
pleasant summer talk, sense and non
sense delightfully."- mixed.
The next morning the village was wild
with excitement, for poor old Sandoval