Daily inter mountain. [volume] (Butte, Mont.) 1881-1901, 1900-11-30
Copyrighted, 1900: Daily Story Pub. Coz

lie hau waited Datlenlly, ana the Qay
had come. Long had he anticipated the
moment, and now he, No. %, stood out
side the prison walls, No. % no longer,
blu a free man, for he had paid the price
demanded by the law.
He had sinned and he had suffered.
He did not intend to kill the deputy
marshal, but the officers and some men
were searching his house for an Illicit
still: they said he had been making
whisky without license. One of the
men showed his wife roughly, and mad
dened beyond endurance, he fired upon
them, and one fell with a bullet in his
temple. He was arrested, torn from
his mountain home, put in prison, and
finally, sentenced to fifteen years at hard
la Dor.
And now, now he was free. 1t was
all like some horrible nightmare, a
fevered dream dissipated by the CLEAN
of the morning sunlight. For a while
after he went to the prison his wife
came to see him and brought the chill
dren. Then the visits grew further and
further apart, and finally they ceased
altogether.
He felt so strange, did No. 23-as
though he had slept for a long, long
time and then had been awakened in the
glare of midday. He took q fare-Weh
look at the grim walls that for so many
years had been his abiding place and
then turned his face toward the home
of his young manhood.
He remembered the log cabin sit
! tins high on the side of the mountain
| saw his wife standing in the doorway
! with a glad, expectant light on her
face. He saw the children playing in
the front yard among the marigolds
and sunflowers land he could smell the
resinous incense of the pine forest.
No, it was but a dream. That was
the home of fifteen years ago. But she
loved and trusted him. and she would
be there waiting for him-she had kept
track Of the tardy years and months
and would be as glad as he when his
penance was done. She would be older,
of course: her hair would be streaked
with gray, but she would be the same
wife that comforted him in the dreary
prison. She lax told him that she
would trust him, and would wait a life
time for him., gladly. And the chlidreh
how they would be grown! He Won
dered if they would know him.
The rattle of the car wheels sung a
refrain. Home, home, going home"
He could just see the tops OF the noun
tains in the distance. Back in their
blue depths was the home Of his youth,
his happier days. At last the train
topped at a little station, and NO. 70
alighted. The Ioungers about the vii
lage store gazed with idle curiosity at
the strange figure. There was not a
familiar face to greet him, but that did
not matter-he was going home. He
took the well-remembered road ana
started toward the mountains n the
log cabin nesting near the cliffs.
On and on he went. Up and up he
climbed. The distant peaks loomed up
vague and grand and mysterious in the
silence of the purple haze of an lndlan
summer. High in the air a hawk
wheeled in great, graceful circles and
screamed shrill greetings to It's mate.
From the forest on either side of the
road could be heard the rustling of the
leaves as they dropped softly to their
resting place upon the ground. A souri,
rel barked from a nearby tree, IN
the midst of a deserted old field a quail
was whistling merrily. On the noun
tain side in the clearings the sumac
and the golden rod cleaned gaudily
from among the somber gray of drying
grasses and weeds. Among the trees
the gay banners of autumn Haunted
among the duller colors Of the leaves
already dead. In the underbrush the
crickets suns a sad requiem for the sea
son lust drawing to a close-a chant for
the dying summer. The sky was blue,
a deep turquoise, such as only the skies
in a mountainous country SHOW IN
November. AL nature was gorgeous IN
crimson and yellow n gold, as though
dressed for the final review OF summers
glories.
Only one more mile! Every stone and
tree was now familiar to him, every TURF
and brook was fraught with some happy
remembrance. His heart began to bea'
wildly Would she meet him at the gate
and be glad to see him? She had tod
him she would, when she last came tc
the prison, years before. OF course shf
woodland the children, they would RAJ
to meet him and kiss him as they did il
the olden days.
It was lust around the turn, only 6
few steps further, and he would see the
little home with it's vine-ciad piazza
and the flowers growing in the yard
and-her standing at the gate, waiting
For fifteen years he had longed for thi:
moment, and now that it had come
he dared not go around the benz o
the road-his heart was torn with doubt:
: and fears.
He sat down to rest and collect hi:
:, thoughts. He was faint and sick, n
' had eaten nothing all day and the Ions
' walk up the mountain had almost ex
v hausted him.. Pulling all his energies
together, he staggered around the benz
y of the road. He was afarid to raise hi
ewes until he had reached the gate. Thel
y he did SO.
There was no house there.
! Only a heap of rubbish and ruin, ant
5 a tangled thicket of blackberry briar
and bushes and decaying weeds. HI
leaned against a fence post and in
{ dazed sort of way tried to understand
I The house was but a pile of rottins
! logs, the fences We're gone n hi
} family-God only knew where they We're
, He staggered to the waste of weeds ant
! briars and sat down on the block of ston'
, that once had served as a doorstep.