The Dupuyer acantha. [volume] (Dupuyer, Mont.) 1894-1904, 1899-06-22

ter OF 1t, standing by the two men who
played the principal parts. Tho face
OF one of these men was white and
pinched and livid, as though with fear
and malice: the face of this other was
conVulsed with passion, and blood was
trickling down it. Instinctively, child as
l was, l knew which was the wronged
man, and which the wronger, and
their faces became indelibly stamped
upon my memory. The nam of the
wronger, also, would never have been
had not cause to remember it. l ran
home, in terror of it and him, and
told the story to my mother with tears
and sobs.
Mr.. bruce was a money-lender in
our neighborhood. When he died, his
son inherited his business. The name
was Over his office, and 1 never saw
it in my boyish days without it's bring
ing before me the faces of two men,
n white and livid, the other con
vulsed with bitter passion, and with
the blood trickling down it, and l in
variably hated the one and SYM
pathized with the other.
Up to a certain period in my life I
met this son but once. He was a man,
and | vas a man. Perhaps he was
three or four years older than | was.
l stood with my hand on u little
wooden gate, and he came and stood
before me. l had no idea who he was,
lever having seen him to know him.
His shadow falling across my path
caused m to look down upon him. I
could do that; I was taller than he. A
thin, inquisitive face was that face Of
his, with eyes that were bright, but
had no softness in them. He could not
have been ashamed of his face, for it
was perfectly smoth and hairless
Mine, IN the contrary, had plenty OF
hair upon it.
Good evening, neighbour" said he
That was a claim to a kinship in
friendliness.
Good evening"" said I, scarcely
looking at him.
"A fine evening"" was his next OBJ
servation.
1t happened not to be a fine evening,
and l remarked that he talked like a
barber. He accepted my correction
good humoredly.
Not being a sailor" said he, II
don't know the signs Of the weather
as we'll as you"
"You know when it rains, I sup
pose" l said, with a wave of my hand,
for a slight mist was falling.
"Ah, yes, indeed" he replied, in a
tone of surprise, looking up as though
he were only now ware of the fall
ing mist. you have been a long time
away"
l had been absent on a long voyage,
and had been home but a few days.
1 nodded, eyes, a long time" and
would have left him, but that he seem
ed to have something more he wished
to say.
"You have been to Africa, I hear%'
eyes, to Africa, and other coasts"
give read" said he, that gold is
dug up there by the savages."
That's So"
"And feathers, worth their weight
in gold?"
81 don't know about their value.
Feathers are got there"
And pearls in other places, and
coral?"
That's So"
And you've been tt those places"
cay"
His bright eyes that had no softness
in them cleaned still more brightly
and eagerly, but still it was in a hest
tating tone-as though he were sus-
picious l should take advantage of
him-that he continued his question
ing:
"Have you got any?" asked he.
ANY what?"
Feathers and bits Of coral and that
like"
l laughed at him.
give enough to do" said I, without
bothering my head about such things.
Besides, they're out of my reach"
"Out of your reach!' he repeated.
cay. 1t takes money to buy them"
He cnuckled, and rubbed his hands.
"And you've no money!"
mot more than l know what to do
with. Have you?"
At this question of mine he gave his
body such a remarkable screw, that it
appeared to me as though all in one
m he was buttoning himself up
from top to toe.
Give got a little" said he, with a
slow twisting of his fingers, "and I'm