The Chanute times. [volume] (Chanute, Kan.) 1897-1913, 1901-07-26
tied eyes, pain, doubt ard yearning in
her dumb trusting look.

tied eyes, pain, doubt ard yearning in
her dumb, trusting look.
In the morning he bolted to the hill
again; and she, like doe that knows
not anything but one who is master,
followed him timidly far behind-fol-
lowed till he threw himself down in
the sage brush. She sank where she
was, to wait there in patience.
In the grass-broken sand he lay and
sat and lay again, thinking rapidly, In
coherently the same things over and
over. Under it all ran a current of
echoes: Saved my life-she saved my
life-she saved my life"
At length his wandering attention
was caught by motley procession
moving slowly along in the dust
wreathed road below. There were half
dozen Washoe Indians, more per-
haps, approaching the town-men and
women. They had two horses-jaded,
hopeless creatures-that three old men
were riding. Near them, walking
barefooted, heavily laden, were three
or four squaws, with time-furrowed
visages. The loads were contained in
sacks and in conical baskets, heaped
on the shoulders and supported by
heavy bands. which went across the
foreheads of these camel-females. For
ward the burdened ones bent, looking,
as if in submission and patience, on
the ground, leaning on sticks which
they used with either hand. 1t was
only party returning from the
mountains with the gathered supply of
bitter acorns and berries from the red
manzanita For fifty miles they had
travelled thus. Painfully the wretched
caravan crawled around the hill and
disappeared.
Henley watched them, strangely in
tent. Saved my life," he muttered
aloud "Indian-same as those. Saved
me. Yes, she'll wrinkle-be old. Why
did | have to have the fever! Saved
my life. Wrinkled, fearful old squaws"
Susie saw the squalid show. "Oh,"
she cried in anguish to herself. "Oh,
the women-oh, the Washoe women!
Were they young long ago? Were they
part of the summer? Did they hear
the larks and crickets? Did they
love?" She threw herself forward
where she sat till her face was buried
in her curving arm. ooh, love!" she
cried; there is nothing in the world
for me but love!"
The thoughts of Henley finally crys-
talized in form and sequence. He knew
he would leave her, knew he would
certainly desert all things Western
and go to the far-away East. How to
do it gently, what to provide for her
comfort, what he should say, how
apply a balm with the caustic-these
were matters to be planned and
planned.
Early the following morning he went
to his mine to gather the gold where it
lay beneath the pocket. There, alone,
he labored hour after hour. The mine
was simply a hole in the ground, so
feet in depth, with branching tunnels
down below; and over the mouth a
windlass stood. with a rope about it,
supporting bucket that rested on the
bottom. Built against one of the per-
pendicular walls was a wooden ladder,
for ingress to and egress from the
lower levels.
In the afternoon, from the rocks on
the hill, a crouching form came
stealthily down through the scrubby
brush. 1t was Mingo, the Washoe In
dian. Noiselessly he crept to the shed
after scanning the prospect far and
near for any living thing-there to lie
full length on plank at the edge of
the shaft. His practiced ear was quick
to catch the dull sound of blows that
issued from the mine. Long he lay
without moving a muscle. He could
wait an hour; he could wait day.
(To be continued)