The Beaver herald. [volume] (Beaver, O.T. [Okla.]) 1895-1923, 1898-01-27
A CASE in EQUITY.
BY FRANCIS LYNDE.
tCopyright lsos. by J. B. Lippineou Col
BY FRANCIS LYNDE.
XVII.


the urging of the same wholesome
emotion made him ~tireless in his efforts
to find T~horndyke. He accepted his
own theory of kidnapping, and, after
learning from the hotel-keeper at
Glenco that Philip had set out to ride
to A~llacoochee, and that the horse had
returned riderless the following day,
he was confirmed i'm the belief that the
young attorney had been waylaid and
carried off to some isolated cabin on
the plateau. Acting upon this conclu-
sion, he began a systematic search on
the mountain; and since his occupation
had made him familiar with every spur
and ravine within ten miles of Allacoo-
chez, il would have been singular if he
had failed to discover Thorndyke's
asylum. 1t was late in the afternoon of
the second day, however, when Philip
heard the welcome sound of approach
ing hoof-beats, and his satisfaction was
not lessened when he found that the
rider was Protheroe. He laughed when
he hobbled TO the door and saw the
engineer coming up with q Winchester
held at the ready.
"You needn't be alarmed" he called
out; 81 don't want to fight, and Ican't
run"
Protheroc was mystiied, but the
bandaged ankle was held up in evil
dence. "Then you're not a prisoner,
after ALP" he said.
"Oh, yes, | am-very much 50; but
not by the i'll will of my good friends
here. All l need is an ambulance, or the
loan of a gentle horse"
1--WE were afraid you'd been kid
naped," said P~rotheroe, and. seeing
Philips look of inquiry, he added: "I'm
in the secret; Duncan has told me all
about it,"
But / don't understand yet. I wrote
Duncan W days ago and sent the let
ter in your care. Didn't he get it?"
A sudden light broke in upon Pro-
theroe. Two days ago? that was
Wednesday. How did you send it?"
by messenger to you at Allacoo-
chez"
Duncan didn't get it, and I never
heard of it. IT, probably fell into the
hands of the enemy. Sharpless wen to
Duncan Wednesday afternoon with n
story about your having gone to New
York; and ever since, he's been turning
heaven and earth over to find Kilgrow.'
"Unsuccessfully, / hope?"
Up TO date. yes; and l think there's
no chance for him. Duncan warned
the old man at once"
Good! then everything's all right
yet. BY Jove! old man, I've been having
a horrible time cooped up here when
- 40 -.,..l % l. -- L..
is precious"
Protheroe smiled. 81 can imagine;
but you needn't worry. Aliacoochee
hasn't run away yet, and, so far as ]
know. the company is still solvent. Are
you ready to go back to civilization?"
"Indeed I am, if you'll tell me how
to do it."
Nothing ~ensier; you can ride my
horse. and I'll walk"
When Philip had taken leave of his
entertainers. and had narrowly missed
quarrel with tie Bedouin in the effort
TO make him take payment for his hos
pitality, he was helped into the saddle.
"You want to 20 to ~Allacoochee, I
suppose" Protheroe said.
I'D rather go to Duncan's, if we can
get there"
Protheroe's heart misgave him, bur
he answered unhesitatingly: 1T can
be DONE" and they were soon out OF
sight of the cabin in the windings of a
trail leading ~diagonally across the
plateau.
Fol some miles they pushed on in
UGH silence as the narrowness of the
path made compulsory, but when the
trail broadened into a wood road, Pro-
~theroe dropped back beside the horse
and they began to speak of the missing
letter. The talk reminded the engineer
that he still had Thorndyke's mail in
his pocket,and he passed it up and con-
siderately went on ahead again while
Philip read the letters. There was one
from Helen, and, yielding to something
hke a suggestion of moral cowardice,
Philip left it until the last. When he
opened it, he saw hat it had been writ
ten on the same day as that about the
marriage portion, and the first words
proved that it was an after-thought.
81 have just mailed one letter to you,r
she wrote, 'aad it was hardly out of my
hands before | began 10 be sorry that |
had sent it. AS / remember ii now. it
was all about the moneys and l G ought to
have known that you would do what
was just and right without any urging
from me. What l want to say now is
what i should have said then; that /
cannot endure this separation much
~longer-that the love which l rave tried
so hard to keep out Of my letters for
fear l should make you come back TO
your hurt refuses to be hidden under
meaningless and commonplace phrases.
"Oh. Philip, if you love me. please
don't let this misfortune raise any bar
rier between us! You know what Aunt
Bellam left me-you know hat it is
mine in my own right, and 1 entreat
you not to turn my gratitude into
misery by refusing to share this money
with me. But you will not. / know you
will not; and il we had nothing else, we
should still have each other, and what
more could we ask?
"In some respects, l know you
better than you know yourself; and l
know that if you can have your health
you will yet win a place among. those
who have fought their way into the
foremost rank. Be good to me. Philip,
dear, and let me share the battle and
the triumDh with Won. Come hack TO