The Advocate and news., 1899-02-15

ans struggling form, revealed by a wo-
mans white dress
"Merciful God" shrieked MIRA
Faulkner. "It's Laura Winn. She
went up toward the falls not ten min
utes ago"
Vain fool What could have been her
object? Barclay, never dancing, had
been looking smilingly on. Both the
Frazier girls had been led, not too will
ing, away by partners. Four sets had
been formed, and Mrs Winn, pleading
fatigue, had asked TO be excused, had
sauntered past Barclays seat, and be.
fore his eyes had turned up the narrow,
winding, sheltered pathway by the
Blanca. Had she dreamed It possible
he would follow? Follow her he did
not. Was it-s far more charitable
thOught---in search Of Harry she had
gone? Somber and absentminded, he
had earlier slipped away among the
trees, avoiding even Brayton. But now
Barclay was seen on the near side Of
the torrent, limping up and along the
steep slope, in imminent danger Of
slipping in, swinging in his hand a
long lariat that he had drawn from the
nearest wagon when the wild up hill
fight began. They remembered later
that he was the last man out Of the hol-
low. Already Brooks, Brayton. De
Lanoy and half q dozen men were hur.
rying along the hillside to aid, but
Brayton reached him first and seized
his arm just as another cry went up
from the hilltop-just as from the Op.
pnsite side of the seething torrent the
tall figure Of Harry Winn came bound
ing through the stunted trees, and, hat
less, wild eyed, he seemed searching the
tossing mass Of wreckage on the bosom
of the waters. Another instant still a
white hand was waved aloft in their
midst, then a white arm enciroliDg q
log, o terror stricken white face, all
showed dimly one moment before again
borne underneath, hidden by the yellow
body of q whirling ambulance, and in
that one instant, far leaping, Winn
plunged into the torrent and struck out
savagely to reach his wife.
Vain, hopeless effortl Eddying in
huge circle at the rocky shoulder just
above the entrance to the gorge, the
wild waters near the eastward shore
bore their burden, jarring and crushing,
close under the heights on which were
clustered tie panic stricken jewellers
from Fort Worth. But on the farther
side, as it narrowed toward the en-
trance, the kissing torrent tore like a
mill race on it's way. Into this heaving
food leaped Winn, and before the eyes
of screaming women and helpless, hor-
ror stricken men was sucked into the
rush and whirl Of foaming waves
sweeping resistless through the rocky
canyon away toward the fair White
Gate, away ont and beyond the lovely
foothills, tossed and battered and crush
ed by whirling logs, dragged under by
the branches Of uprooted trees, borne
away at last, rolling, gasping, still
feebly, family struggling, until ON the
broad lowlands the torrent spent the
fury Of its concentrated spite, and,
swiftly still, but no longer raging 40
when curbed and held by the barrier
gate, the Blanca foamed away to strew
the tokens Of the fearful storm right
and left for miles along it's banks and
to land all that was mortal Of Harry
Winn, bruised, battered, yet so placid
in death that strong mems voices broke
when telling how they found him, rest
ing with weary head upon his arm on
the sandy fat that lay just beneath the
little summer house on the overhanging
bluffs, just where Laura had looked
down over the misty shadows from that
very height the morning her soldier
husband had reached his home at re.
veille and found her--wanting.
They bore her wailing home that
night, widowed and crying, "Woe is
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