The daily morning journal and courier., 1900-12-31

what are the men to me ne pfoht
 out, roughly, they are nothing to me
 but she-she is my wife. Send some
 other man to La Cajetin. Stand aside!
 Without mooving, old Chepe raised his hand and spoke solemly: There Is
 no man else to go. Tebate is dead
 with the pest, Felipe is shut in wonder
 Juan, here, is but boy and r his voice broke into a wail-"God help us,
 I am very old--very old!"
 Embedding, Isadore. showed the old
 man out of the way and sprang
 through the door. Outside the fresh
 ness of the sparkling air cooled his
 brain the sight of the distant noun
 tains brought back the memory of Bal
 tasar and the men whose lives depend-
 ed upon his own life. He paused with
 in the shadow and watched the guard
 turn at the corner of the house where Luisa lay and walked with leisurely
 step down the row of back abode huts.
 The gleam of his gun barrel maddened
 the Indian. What right had that man 1 to stand between him and his dying
 wife, to prevent his looking into her
 eyes, hearing her voice? He drew out ] his revolver. It would be easy enough l to send bullet there just under the left shoulder, and then he might take
 Luisa in his arms, kiss her farewell and
 escape. His people would help him. His hands shook as he turned the
 weapon, but with his American citizen ship he had adopted the cowboy code
 he would not shoot a man In the back. And beside, the man was but carrying a,,f D,,fla o- hn hi hi,,,cn nIf lni
 A little gleam of light from the room where he knew his wife must lie at-
 tracted him, fascinated him. If he could
 look into that window. catch one
 glimpse of her face, hear her voice call
 ling his name. then he might be able
 to go back to Baltasar. He measured
 the distance with his eye; he culd easi-
 ly reach the window, while the watch
 mans back was turned, and surely the
 man would not shoot him for looking in at a window. He could outrun any pursuer, but an alarm would mean de- lay, perhaps the failure of his mission. With an oath he admitted that the risk was too great. He must go back to the mountains without seeing Luisa-he should never see her again. He hid his face in his hands with groan of ac- tual physical suffering, then with a long look at the little light he turned away.
 The women--the wives and sisters of Chepe's two sons, who were With Bal tasar--was huddled in the shadow. They greeted his return with tears and whisperings of joy but he pushed past them to old Chepe, who suuatted on the floor in front of the black fireplace, his head sunk between his knees. Shak- ing his shoulder Isadore said: Make ready quickly and send Juan for your best horse. Fifty miles must He be- tween me before the sun rises"
 Soon, with his eyes turning again | and again toward the feeble light of the window, he was stealing away through | the shadows. Outside the village Juan met him with his horse. There was lit- tie danger of interruption now on the 1 lonely road which stretched away, a white thread, through the dark mesa, 1 and he put the pony to steady gal lop. He might think now. Just as he had started one of the women had spok- i an: "The white doctor does great things. and the white doctor gives the to Lusa. She may not die Old Teofila-quien sabe?-old Teotla may not speak true"
 "Teoflla knows well the signs of ieath' Isadore had answered bitterly. But he snatched at the thought; it was rue, he had known the doctor to work and Teofila might mistake at east she might mistake the time. Luisa night live two days: three days; she night not die at all. T will see her lgain yet" he swore to himself: T must carry these accursed cartridges to but I will return. Before the noon goes down again I will be with luisa, and. then, she may not die. We will go back to the rancho, to the little louse, and be happy again. Yes" he epeated again, they may fight If it 'leasa them, but I will take Luisa and 70 back to my cattle. That is best"
 He turned with impatience when he bought of the distance ahead of him. Ie grew reckless, and urged his horse n with no thought of danger until the teady beat of hoofs. muffied by the oft dust, startled him. There was no
 ding place her on the open plain. He ursed his eagerness and used his panish bit and spurs wickedly: if he ould reach the wash, with it's broken anks. he might escape unnoticed. But is half-starved pony was no match for < he long strides of the horse behind f i'm. They gained, and at last he heard I n order to halt, and a moment later a ullet dipped by his ear He rode at z Ill speed down a steep bank and 'heeled his horse at right angle into a c ulch. It was a desperate chance, but r le patrolmen, wrapped in a cloud of f leir own dust, dashed by and by the 4 me they had agreed as to their blun- . CT, Isadore was galloping across the f ountry out of range. F He was able to push his sturdy, sure | ,oted little beast over some miles of T le trail; then, after taking Q little ,od, he started on, without waiting T IT sleep or for daylight. The cartridge f slts about his waist twisted and chaf- !, d with every movement, the sack of :, ammunition grew more laden at every ep Of the endless, upward climb; his :, yes were weighted with sleep and his ct clumsy with weariness, but he ;, used only to pant for breath after t1 me heavy pull. He was driven relent- <, ssy on by the thought of the pen in o ,ril ahead, and behind Luisa dying ', ithout him. "No,' he gasped, "she l., i'll not die before I come, the good <, od will not permit that" 4,