The Kootenai herald. [volume] (Kootenai, Idaho) 1891-1904, 1899-09-23

but | attributed II TO our unexpected
meeting.
We had been friends until our walks
IN life wldened apart. He became an
architect and decorator aud 1 had
chosen medicine.
When the cab stopped before a hand
some house aud Ben sprang out l was
silent with Amusement. He led me
through halls and rooms that seemed
old and grand to my American eyes.
and then closed the door Of coy den
and we were alone.
"Why. Ben, old fellow, you must have
struck it rich" l ventured, and he
looked at me, paling little.
Haven't you heard?' he asked.
mot word since the old man was
cut up in the wreck, and Dan Ward,
being the next of kin. came In for the
fortune that should have been yours"
i replied, hesitatngly, knowing what
blow all this had been to Ben.
He laughed softly, and his hands
moved In the Old restless way 1 had so
important to tell me.
You came away before | took the
contract to res ore the old placer" he
said.
Yes" I answered, with something
like gasp. Had they added insult to
INJURY Had they dared
'At first the offer hurt me, and then
the man In me gave way to what you
used TO call the artistic instinct Hadn't
] been thinking Of Its possibilities all
these yearsw
But to do It for another man-for
him, Benz interrupted.
well, he really couldn't help It, you
know, though It was not until later that
/ was able to take that philosophical
view Of 1t. 1t was only that l loved
Lakewood too well to have 1t spoiled,
and-and l wanted to get away from
the city. for Dolly's father-well; he
liked Lakewood and all that goes with
it. and so Dan, and not l, was in high
favor with him"
at was hard when you had every
reason to expect it for your own" l
persisted.
Eyes, but there was the bigger trou-
BILE using me up" he said. smiling
softly.
He sat stu then; still. except those
restless hands; slender aud white as
womans they were. and l knew by
their moving that Bens story was a
hard one for him to tell.
You don't believe In ghosts-ln the
return of the disemboded spirit, do
you, Dick?"
well, no. Ben. suppose I am ma
terial. Ny Profession"
But you'll believe my story" He
looked up with his sweet. calm smile.
Certainly [ Will. Am | to hear 1t
now?'
He glanced at the clock. eyes. I'll
tell you now, before Dolly comes
Dolly
you have the last OF the story first.
The married and happy ever after
you know. Well you see. we went
down to Lakewood, and the men lived
at the village hotel. But put up at
the old place, with CASTOR and Hannah
TO take care of me. Poor old things!
over and over they described the hor-
rible scene to me. l had only reached
home in time for the funeral. you
know. and for the-the will, which
could not be found.
For a year, a whole year. worked,
never once growing tired OF the ex-
qubsite woods metals and fabrics. A
year, and the anniversary of my
adopted fathers death was at hand
All! the place was a wonder OF beauty
nowl
1T happened that was at work in
the old mans room. the long one along
the south wing. 1t was midnight and
i was busy with my drawings. Now
and then a splash of rain came with
the wind through the window, and the
light, the only one in the room, fiIckered
and cast strange shadows on my pa
pew-
II had measured the wall and was
turning away when something on the
pillow caught my eye, and stood still.
Ny blood froze as the horror OF 1t came
upon me, and my feet were like lead,
ION the pillow lay the head OF Mr..
Guthrie. The fine, grim old face, with
its inscrutable eyes and thin lips, the
brow and shining white halr-an this.
but the head only-the head severed
from body that did not see.
II heard q voice. low, sobbing
voice, but my soul was faint with sick
ening fear, and / did NOT hear the