Evening star., 1897-05-29

for a wife, which he liked better than her.
Lord, dad, you ought to have seen what
stuff I made up!' The boy burst into
shrill, half-feminine laugh. and Steptoe.
catching the Infection. laughed loudly IN
his own coarse, brutal way.
For some moments they sat there looking
into each others faces, shaking with sym
pathetic emotion, the father forgetting the
Van Loo's visit and even the rendezvous
to which his horse in the road below was
waiting to bring him, the son forgetting
their retreat from Heavy Tree Hill and his
father in the years that followed. The
sinking sun stared blankly in their faces:
the protecting pines above them, moved by.
a stronger gust, shook few cones upon
them; an enormous crow mockingly re-
peated the fathers coarse laugh, and
squirrel scampered away from the strange
ly assorted pair as steptoe, wiping his
eyes and forehead with his pocket hand
kerchief. said:
"And did you send it?'
"Oh, Van Loo thought 1t too strong, said
that those sort Of lovesick fools made more
| fuss over little things than they did over
| big ones, and he sort of toned 1t down and
fixed it up himself. But it told. For there
were never any more letters in the post
office in her handwriting and there wasn't
| any posted to her in his
| They both laughed again, and then Step
| toe rose. Il must be getting along. he
said, curiously looking at the boy. I've
| gu " CdtCIl d tIdu IooWIu0AS
station
| 'Three Bowlders?' repeated the boy
I'm going there, too, on Friday, to meet
| FIR. Cipriano.''
| Il reckon my work will be done by Fri
| day." said Steptoe musingly. Standing
thus, holding his boys hand, he was think
ing that the real fight at Marshalls would
| not take place at once, for it might take a
day or two for Marshall to gather forces.
| But he only pressed his sons hand gently.
| Il wish you would sometimes take me
| with you, as you used to-" said the boy,
curiously. I'm bigger now, and wouldn't
be in your way
Steptoe looked at the boy with choking
sense of satisfaction and pride. But he
said NO" and then suddenly, with simu-
lated humor, Don't you be taken in by
any letters from me such as you and Van
! Loo used to write. You hear?'
! The boy laughed.
says I sent for you, don't you believe
! them
| No said the boy, smiling.
| And don't you even believe I'm dead till
way, FIR. Pedro has some money of mine
| kept for you. Now, hurry back to school,
and say you met me, but that | was in a
| great hurry. l reckon l may have been
| ather rough to the priests
| They had reached the lower road again.
| and Steptoe silently unhitched his horse
"Good-b bye" he said, as he laid his hand
| on the boys arm.
Goodbye, dad"
He mounted his horse slowly "Well he
| said. smilingly, looking down the road,
you amt got anything more to say to me-
| have your
| mo. dad"
''Nothin' you want?"
'Nothin', dad
'All right. Goodbye"
| He put spurs to his horse and cantered
| down the road without looking back. The
| boy watched him out of sight with idle Gu
r1oslty, and then went on his way. whis-
tlirg and striking off the heads of wayside
| weeds with his walking stick.
Chapter VII.
The sun arose SO brightly over Hymettus
| on the morning after the meeting of the
| three partners that it was small wonder
that Barker's impressionable nature quick
| iy responded to it, and, without awakening
| the still sleeping child, he dressed hurried
| ly and was the first to greet it in the keen
| air of the slope behind the hotel. To his
pantheistic spirit it had always seemed as
| natural for him to early welcome his re-
| turning brothers of the woods and hills as
| to say good morning to his fellow mortals.
And In the joy of seeing Black Spur rising
| again to his level in the distance before
him, he doffed his hat to it with a return
| Of his old boyish habit laid his arm caress-
| ingly around the great Rirth of the nearest
| pine, clapped his hands to the scampering
| squirrels in his path, and whistled to the
dipping jays. In this way he quite forgot
| the more serious affairs Of the preceding
night Or, rather, saw them only in the
| gliding OF the morning, until, looking up, he
| perceived the tall figure of Demorest ap-
preaching him; and then it struck him
| with his first glance at his old partners
| fece, that his usual sCave, gentle melan-
choly had been succeeded by a critical syn
1c1sm OF look and q restrained bitterness
| OF accent. Barkers loyal heart smote him
for his own selfishness; Demorest had beer
hard hit by the discovery of the forgery
and stacy,s concern in it. and had doubt
less passed restless night, while he (Bar.
kerr mad forgotten all about it, II thought
OF knocking at your door as l passed. he
SAID with sympathetic apology, but was
afraid might disturb ycu. Isn't it glori.
GUS here? Quite like the cid hill Look a,
that lizard; he hasn't moved once since h.
hrst saw me. Do you remember the one
,ee VINO USED 10 steal our sugar. and ther
stlnen himself into stone en- the edge of III,
bowl. until he looked like an ornamental
handle to it?' he continued, reboundine
again into spirits.
| Barker said Demorest abruptly, "wha1
sort of woman is this Mrs. Van Loo. whose
rooms l occupy?"
Oh, said Barker. with optimistic inno
Gehce, , a most proper woman, old chap
foreign accent, and a still more foreign
courtesy. Why, you don't suppose we'd
But what Is she like?" said Demores
impatiently.
Well, said Barker, thoughtfully. "she I.
the kind of woman who might be Var
Loo's mother, l suppose
You mean the mother of a forger and 2
swindler?" asked Demorest SHARPLY.
here are no mothers of swindiers anf
1orgers. said Barker gravey, ''in the wa,
you mean. It's only those poor devils.'' he
said. pointing, nevertheless with a cer.aiI
admiration to a circling sparrow-haWl
above him, who have inherited instincts
What l mean is that she might be Var
Loo's mother because he didn't select her.
Where did she come from and now lonf
has she been here?" asked Demorest.
She came from abroad, 1 believe, ant
I