Arizona republican., 1901-01-14

on the ground and bleeding from a wound in the groin. "and me shoot him.
 He hrap lie, groaned the dying In- dian. Me no cheat tall. Injun heap drinkum plenty, heap gamble, haa. fightum like he'll"
 Where's your whiskey. you roid rascal What you drink for?" said tIo- rahana Arry, arumentatively.
 "Whiskey all gone. Me llkum all same white man. returned the Indian. boldly.
 CHAPTER ".
 One day an old man and a young girl might have been seen following a rough trail leading down a narrow tor tuous gulch. This gulch was an off, shoot of the Grand Canyon of the Col orado, and had been worn by centuries of storms.
 The man was bent and his hair was very white. yet, when one drew near 1t could readily be seen that his age was not the result of accumulated verIs. It was evident that h. had been on in- tmate terms with sorrow. Disappoint- ment was stamped on his face. Pain wrung from the soul and anguish of mind could be read In the tiny wrir.k. les that radiatrd from the outward cor ncrs of his eyes. Withal, his face was full of kindly benevolence, and in the depths of his deep blue 'eyes there lurked tenderness born of charity and a love for all the things that live.
 This was Mir Graham
 The girl was not more than eighteen. She was the owner of very beautiful eyes. black. limpid and full of lustre. They were the mirrors of her mind. They reflected her every thought, and If one were intimate and observant he could. by looking into their depths, read the history of a thought from its birth to it's grave. All her life she had lived in Arizona. and in her eighteen summers had not been fifty miles from the joyful cataract. Nature had pain,- ed rare colors in her cheeks. She clun:, to her father and learned of him. He had imparted his gentlcnes to her and had given her an inheritance of rever- ence
 It Is not so much what we arr as NHdt "t iuDS io Dt tilil n iiipdi NVu t'' the child. Mir Graham, when young, had longed with infinite yearning to be an artist. He hungered for time and ability to paint the beautiful rral he saw as well as the wonderful concep- tions his mind wrought. The ability was there. IL slept most of the time. but occasionally 1t awoke and throbbed and thrilled until his fingers itchcd and his soul grew sick. But he was poor. and when Opportunity passed he could not go with her and she never cane again.
 But an artistic soul and an artistic endowment. She was, as it were. ra- lures echo.
 These two proceg ded slowly. IL was evident the journey was not one of pleasure. They haitei often. They avoided each others eyes which was omlnous. Usually their eyes met in smiling embrace. The compensation was mutual, for age was charmed and soothrd. while youth was inspired and fid.
 At length they came 70 the foot of the narrow trail leading up out of the canyon. There was spring of cool water there A few ferns tiny and delicate, grew in the shadows of the great wall. Nearby bonlders were gowncd In velvetY moss, in pretty con- trast to their gray, nude comrades
 Mir. Graham looked up to the top of the canyon sighed, and sat wrarlly down on a rock.
 Vahata impulsively knelt by his side and clasped his hand.
 Its t.rribly hard, isn't 1t. dear"' she said, as she forced his hand to ca- ress her cheek. .a-,..a,...,.
 "Very," l'' said. as he tried to hide the troubled look in his eyes.
 How can human being be so hard