Daily inter mountain. [volume] (Butte, Mont.) 1881-1901, 1900-10-18
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s Till FIRE-FLY'S Light. s
81 Ey William Llahtfeee visseher. 81
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Ey William Llshtfoet Visseher.

now and then. its rich. soft or roliekins
numbers, and many groups of young and
middle-aged made their ways OF merri-
ment and eriovme~t in tho inter-a1s.
Here and there, from small lotteries,
came the tinkle OF mandolins with the
strum of guitars. In one vine-clad pa
vilion, on a white-planked floor. the cake
walk prevailed. to the rattel of banjos in
rag-time melody.
Mirth, music, love, bright-lights and
half-lights, We're the tintings of the pic
ture. with dark shadings where the
hadows fell.
Thalia, Terpsichore and Euterpe of the
muses. We're there in modern garb, and
Daphne with fauns, satyrs, nymphS and
Observation-Disclosures about in
this garden of revelry. mixing with the
guests-ofs them, indeed.
Della Poynter found opportunity to
whisper to June Stanton:
I'm twenty minutes stroll over also, to
the mound in the North Grove. and you
will see how true your lover is"
A moment before the schemer had
whispered the same words to Henry
Winter. Each in turn had accepted the
message with a fine show of contempt.
But Della had not fingered to discuss the
matter. She knew that both would at
tend. She was informed as to the flashes
and moods of love, in all stages of the
game. She knew a jealousy, from it's
first hint to the frenzies of Othello.
The North Grove was the site of a ruin.
At the spot the had built their
first home, when they ann here from
Virginia-just George Trumbo. his young
wife and her younger sister. 1t had first
been a log cabin. Then with prosperity's
demand it had given place to a small
brick cottage. Trees stood about the
cabin and the cottage. and they were
here yet. Hence the grove. Fire had
destroyed the cottage. Then came the
grass-grown and shrub-dotted mound
that hid the debris of broken brick and
stone. The chalet arose as the rich mans
home, and the North Grove was an al
most hallowed spot.
Near to the foot of the mound, on the
side toward the chalet, was the deep
and ancient we'll that a served the
Trumbo home in the old days, but it's
waters We're. now unused and it had
been covered many years with the rank
grass
Henry strolled away from the merry
makers. He had missed une from the
party. and yet she was therein one OF
the shadows, Of q rustic seat, alone:
thinking of what Della Poynter had said:
struggling with the thought of obeying.
What could have been Delia's motive
for saying what she said?' She would
see for herself. She glanced about among
the groups. Henry was not there. Then
she flew along the path, stopped suddenly
when near the mound. She had family
made out the familiar figure that had
halted and was angrily speaking to Della
Poynter. whose white form was but a
filmy fleece against the black where she
stood at the foot of the mound.
A FREELY had flashed it's pink, pale
light at the very edge Of the old well and
had shown it, gaping, open, a black spot
before him, which, with another step.
would nave been the door to his hereaf-
ter.
Had he taken the step Jun Stanton
would have unwittingly joined him, a
ONE later, in the dark depths below.
Della Poynter had torn away the heavy
planks.