The Abbeville press and banner. [volume] (Abbeville, S.C.) 1869-1924, 1900-10-31
az MAURICE THOMPSON.

ulQ ne, 8u(t IL WIS WILL "iie SSooe -
voice that he cried aloud:
"I will not die-I will not die--1
cannot die, Kirk MacCollough, while
while you liye!" =
It was grand theatre in which to
make such speech. The dusky trees
and the lurking wild things were fit
ting audience. The realism of the
acting was superEuman, and it was
also superhuma2ly romantic. The
stage accessoyles were in perfect har-
mony with is. Loneliness, grimness,
solemnity Jbrooded there, and the wide
silence Was fitting applause. Two OF
the evil birds took wing with loud
Tapping and sailed away from the dead
b@6gh on which they had been sitting
SO patiently. Burns was indirectly
aware OF them, as he rolled his blood
shot eyes and shook his head till the
tangled hair fell over his forehead and
temples. :.
His strength was but spasmodic.
The next moment he tumbled down
motionless.
Slowly the sun passed on to the
western slope of the sky. The hideous
vultures returned to circle round and
round, lower and lower; but they did
not dare make the attack. They might
have done it soon, however, had they
been left to their will.
Once more the old man reused him
self and struggled to his feet. The
pallor of death hared out OF his face,
the frenzy of death glittered in his
ewes. There were fragments of deHd
leaves and clots of earth in his Mir
and beard. Again he flung his hand
on high and stood waveringS and
trembling, while his voice broke{orth
with awful sonorousness: &
vengeance! Vengeance isyine,
and I will repayI" ,t *
This time the theatre held ont hu-
man auditor, who stopped shoSS his
walk and gazed with, wide Eyes
at the towering actor rild
scene. At first Burns1 lost
twice his real statup Twas
the expression of seen
against the dusk oomy
trunksof the
"Wall,. tax - p-kit-
tle!" exclMf ting
the butt of foot.
"W'y, w 80 son?
Wat in all Poing'
yer?"
Burns start Il the
voice, and hal! The
effort lost him down
he fell. again, e. FL out
stretched.
.Hello! Held he man,
running forward as| crooked
leg would permit, lin par
son?" ..
He half recoiled d ght of the
blood on the Burns's is, and his
rough face showed sui and quick
sympathy. He had be accustomed
to open:air tragedies, ID, indeed,
been star performer in t few; but
here was mystery as W as catas-
trophe. For lack of othS vent to re-
lieve his feelings withal he began to
swear disapproVingly, intimsting
through his oaths that it would please
him to hew limb from limb the man
who hurt Parsons Burns.
sParson, parsonw he exclaimed,
stopping over him and touching his
shoulder. "W'at's the matter of ye,
parson?" ,
"Then, as he received no answer,
he Strengthened himself up, leaned on
his gun and scratched his head with
an air of contemplative confusion.
Just then, horse gave forth one of
those casual snorts characteristic OF
the genus. It was the animal that
Burns had ridden. Not far away it
was browsing dolefully, with melan-
choly twist in its cadaverous neck and
switching its tail this way and that
more by force of habit than in re-
sponse to the attack of one or two
thriftless flies which were content to
worry skin too tough for their tiny
spears.
eyer, yer, parson! Watts this
mean9" he went on, clustering trife
and shaking the old mans shoulder.
Cant ye speak to feller? Air ye
bad hurt?"
Burns writhed about, turning his
grimy face full upon his interrogator.
The stare he gave the man fairly
chilled him.
pierre Rameau-that's your name,
eh?" he gurgled harshly. "Pierre
Rameau, will kill you-ki.i-ill you'll"
He tried with desperate energy to
gain his feet, but he faltered and fell.
Kill! KILL" he moaned. "I can
mott will not die till I have killed
yon!'
The Incompatible strangeness of his
voice and The awful expression of his
countenance cannot be indicated; nor
can mare words give any adequate i'm
preston of the man, old, withered,
ill-clad, eroveling in the wet, sandy
soil, soaked in blood and painting forth
intolerable passion. Helooked scarcely
human-more like q beast OF prey,
wounded to death, tearing madly,
blindly at whatever he could feel. His
words soon became indistinguishable
and ran together into a harsh, gut
tural growl.
Dick Beckett doubtless the reader
has recognized him) was at first too
much astonished to be at himself.
As soon as he began to pull his wits
together, however, the whole truth
became more than O suspicion in his