Shepherdstown register. [volume] (Shepherdstown, Va. [W. Va.]) 1849-1955, 1897-07-15

reasoned, and then contrlVeu pldu.
He made to the barn and found rope;
then he went to the wheat field. He
would have taken the horse from the
plow, but did not know how to do it.
He led the horse through the lot and
across the intervening field where the
calf lay. He tied one end of the rope
around the calf's neck, the other to the
plow, with many twistings. He then
led the horse to stump, and got on
his back.
He guided him toward Mr.. Brush S
wood-patch, at little distance. The
old animal lifted his ears in bewilder-
ment at the new weight, and stepped
off slowly. The plow bumped and
bounced, and the calf dragged heavily.
Ed'ard left the calf at the edge Of
the woods and went back as he had
come. He left the horse where he had
found him, and went and propped up
the broken bars in the pasture.
Then he marched to the kitchen.
He was pale, but his lips were drawn
into a tight and determined ike look.
He faced Mr.. Brush. The little calfs
dead, he said. 81 saw him laying out
in the lot, and he was dead. | thought
you'd want him took off of the way,
and I took him. got the horse and
dragged him of to the woods and there
he is. -
Mr.. Brush rubbed back his hair and
stared at him. THE calf he ejacu-
lated, in sore amazement.
Ed'ard nodded. He stood there un-
Ainching, scarcely winking. He read
in their thunder-struck faces their
dawning suspicion Of him, but his
steely attitude held them at bay, and
he knew it. He walked out of the
kitchen.
Mr.. Brush went out to the pasture.
He saw that the grass had been
stamped and torn; he saw where the
rails had been broken down and set
up again. With larger view he per-
ceived the ragged track tending to-
ward the woods, and followed it until
he came upon the dead calf, at the
border. The mark of the rope was on
its neck, and its neck was broken.
There were hot biscuits and honey
for supper. Ed'ard ate almost nothing.
He sat stiff and straight and kept fur
tive watch of the two who sat with
him. Then silence frightened him.
His paralyzing fears for what he had
done took possession of him again
They did not question they did not
threaten him, and he quaked with
nameless apprehensions.
aren't you going to eat your sup
ner ." Mrs. Brush said, dryly. "You
aren't sick, are you ?"
Nope, said Ed'ard.
Generally, he sat up for two hours
after supper, in drowsy, warm con-
tentment by the sitting-room stove ;
tonight he fdgeted in chill uneasiness
till seven o'clock and then he took his
little lamp from the shelf and abrupt
ly left them.
Mr.. Brush looked for some time
dumbly at the door the boy shut be-
hind him. He was heavy-hearted.
He knew not what part Ed'ard had
had in the bad business of the calf,
but he foresaw that he would 20 back
to Gene Huntoon.
"If the calf didn't die a natural
death, he said at last, "and if I'd
known it soon enough so l could have
bled him, we could have made veal Of
him"
do you s'pose he poisoned HIM
Pa ?" said Mrs. Brush, in half whis-
per.
why, mo-" Mr.. Brush answered,
blankly. He looked down the columns
of the county paper without comPre-
hending word of what they held. He
shared his wife's unspoken, increasing
conviction that so long as Ed'ard was
under the roof their lives were not en-
tirely safe.
Upstairs in his bedroom Ed'ard lay
broad awake, with wida-open eyes.
The white moonlight streamed in at
the east window and brought out the
gay colors in the patchwork quilt, and
cleaned on the water-pitcher and on
the picture of some far-of relatives Of
the Brushes, in an oval black frame
on the wall.
He could not sleep. His senses were
alert. He did not know how the time
passed. He seemed to have lain there
in silent misery for hours, when he
heard Mrs. Brush's heavy, slow tread
on the stairs. She came in.
I've brought you some hot ginger