The Caldwell tribune. [volume] (Caldwell, Idaho Territory [Idaho]) 1883-1928, 1897-06-19
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
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Maj Flemtng's pretty, delicate little
wife sank ON couch Of oriental stun,
almost exhausted. She had come from
the remote army post, away on ON the
frontier. to see the wonders al the
worlds fair, and for many weary but
delightful days had tramped through
the winding paths and the wonderful
buildings of the great exposition.
Now her time was almost gone; she
must soon join the rest of the tired
things that trains and boats were car
rEing to their several homes, with full
hearts and souls and empty purses,
Amid all the wonders she had seen the
mystical scented rooms of the East In
dian building attracted Marjory Flem-
ing most She would sit for hours In
the diVan covered with rich old cloth
and lose herself in dreams of misty
perfumed past. The wonderful products
OF the faT-Off land, the crowds OF pleas
ure seekers, would melt away, and
gazing into the dusky faces, the dark
passionate eyes of the strange men
NsSONS ACA oAO WOulu AOCA ASAaSA "
away into a palace on the banks of the
Ganges; fancy herself, mayhap, Be-
gum or an Indian princess, and only
be brought back to plain, prosaic sur
roundings by the cravings of worlds
fair appetite or the sound Of some IA
miliar, high-pitched voice urging her
departure. But all this was practically
over now. Tomorrow she must leave
the dear, dirty old city, the scene OF so
many joyful reunions and so many
magical hours, for her far-Off home.
Her room at the hotel was full of the
confusion Of an incipient packing. Her
trunks stood open. Many paper bum
DIE or broken box showed that her time
had not been entirely spent in looking,
and through the coming winter, when
snow and hail should beat on the win
dow panes of her western home, from
wall and mantel would shine out these
evidences of her taste. Still she was
not happy.
Almost on her first visit to the East
Indian building she had spied on
wonderfully carved sheath dagger. 1t
was not a beautiful thing. What its
composition was nobody could tell 1t
looked like onyx. 1t was a dark green,
veined with white and purple lines, and
on the tip there was a dash of deep
red that glowed and glittered in the
sun. 1t looked exactly as if it had been
dipped in blood, and Mrs. Fleming's
bright eyes grew big and round as she
looked at it. 1t haunted her. The
crafty attendant withdrew it from it's
sheath of carved sandal wood and held
it silently before her, saying some
thing, but looking at her with deep, OBJ
servant eyes. He had not been born in
the land of mystery, of hypnotism, and
OF cunning in vain. Theprice of the dag
ger was extravagant. At least it seemed
so when she thought of how little she
had left in her flabby purse; but she
could not turn her back on the coveted
object. 1t haunted her dreams, as well
as her waking hours. To her excited
fancy the jeweled blade seemed full of
enchantment, of fascination, and time
after time, as she wandered sadly away
and went slowly home her heart felt
heavy within her. To-day she turned
to the major, who stood patiently near,
wondering why Oh earth women were
so slow, and thinking how much better
hot dinner was than all this trump
cry.
Tom" she cried, II must have it!
Do get it for me. I promise it is the
last thing l shall ask for. Twill go
home as contented and as meek as any
lamb if you will get it; for I know, l
feel, that it has some history connected
with it. That must be blood on the