Clarke courier. [volume] (Berryville, Va.) 1869-1997, 1899-07-19

Sicwcd like IA red rose. but he hung
f'cS ANA fretted for Teja. who would
not 20" and had even hidden himself in
the adobe hit. ungratefu beast that he
vast
Thou n.ost stay with Manuel until
suhnown then come thou home to-
gether Thon wilt come then. 'mio
amlgoT This 10 her husband.
III naught should happen. " he re-
piled indifferently in his Mexican
speech. and she answered. "Bueno. 8"
anu went about her work.
Up, mp, the Indian climbed over the
long slope that led 10 the herding. mn
10 where the mesa breaks into n cliff
and In the deep trough filled with soft
sweet grass TO where the sheep and
goats were herded The last were
browsing on the very edge Of the cliffs
among the rocks of many colored CLAW.
which are so beautiful that some one
has said of them that. like the dearest
woman, they can never be adequately
photographed
OF what was the Indian thinkinpf
Not of the grandeur Of his native conn
try nor of the time when he wonld he
one of the sheep kings of the territory
No; he was thinking where he could
make little grave.
In his pocket was the bottle of color
less fluid the Americanos had left for
use ON the vagrant cur. and if il would
so nicely kill dog why. then. the child
should not s1iisr. and Anita would soon
forget If he was found asleep-that lit
tie Jean-where ne had wandered Az
for himself he would 20 at Easter and
give himself 300 blows with the noni-
tentes. and ne would whip much harder
than if he had only stolen a COW. and
ne would carry the heaviest cross and.
after the discipline of castigation there
would be the masses for the repose of
little Jeans soul 1t would be all right
Poor little Jean, When he had smell
Ell obediently of the $50 nice Americana
medicine 80 his bright eyes drooped and
closed. and his pretty head with its
glistening brown curls lay quietly on
Manucls shoulder. and the red drained
from his round cheeks Then that
traitor believed he could safely leave
him in n hollow. where he dug a shallow
grave, covering the child from sight
with freshly plucked grass and green
leaves. He hurried So that if anv one
came he could say it was one of the
lambs that had died Poor lambl
Anita had the "frijoles" for sumner
ready when Manuel came home alone.
She asked him where little Jean WAS
and he told her with a foolish laugh.
that she WAS trying to frighten him
(Manuel) for that little Jean had ONLY
gone half way and then turned back.
But he was afraid Of the glare in her
eyes. as If the light had been stricken
ont
He go so little way by me-he want
mooCh his madre and he come back" "
She searched for him like a mad
thing-she and the chr, who had gone
an hour before TO look for his PLAYMATE
and who found him first.
Manuel dared not stay in the lone
some little Init that night. and he went
where men were carousing and forgot
himself In drink. The next day he Law
like log in the herding but the next
night he went boldly home and found
the cabin lighted with tapers and the
priest chanting prayers for the repose
of the dead. Then Anita had given nm
hope of ever finding the boyY That was
we'll, and he slipped in to kneel by his
wife and join in the responses.
But, Santa Maria what was there ?
The child he had buried was alive and
Well dressed like the Holy Babe. and
held in its mothers arms. who would
have looked veritable Madonna only
for the fierce hatred that shone In her
eyes rs they rested on that traitor
Manuel Why, even Teja was there.
with wreath of jewels on his ugly
neck! And well he might be, for al
though the Indian did not know II it
was the cur that had found Jean before
II was too late and had rescued the lit.
tie fellow by scratching away the COW
erlng from his insufficient grave. With
a wild cry of horrid rage and disap-
pointment Manuel drew a knife and
hurled himself on the little group only
To be seized 10y strong hands. and how
ii happened no one ever cared TO know.
but the treacherous knife found its
way To his own black heart.
And the priest continued chanting
prayers for the repose of the dead
Mrs. Nj. l.. Rayne III Short Stories.