The Abbeville press and banner. [volume] (Abbeville, S.C.) 1869-1924, 1901-02-06
CONTINUED.

still stepping backward and Watching
steadily every movement that Burns
made.
Both men were just then recalling
the scene in the PearlRiver woods.
''I will make sure work this time
if you force me to it" Rameau added.
"This time you die!" said Burns.
'sI have been told that many a time
before, Max Burns; but it was always
lie; it is o lie now"
Ramean stopped suddenly as he
spoke, and poised himself to kick
Burns as he had Vasseur.
The old man, with uplifted knife,
pressed right on. Now, for the first
time, he saw that Ramesu's arms were
both useless and that his clothes were
saturated with blood. The discovery
caused him to falter involuntarily.
Rameau lifted his foot, and as he
did so he slipped and fell heavily
backward on the ground, with one OF
his broken arms doubled up under
him.
Burns stood glaring at him, while
he made feeble efforts to rise. He
had fallen so that he could not even
turn himself over, and, although he
showed no sign of pain, his torture
must have been extreme.
81 am at your mercy. Kill me and
be DONE" he remarked, with the old
tone of indifference. "You had bet
ter be quick if you value revenge, for
7 am bleeding inwardly. This fall
has started the fow."
Burns stopped over him and gazsd
into his eyes. The long knife in the
old mans hand trembled 80 that it
fickered like cold ray of light amid
the shadows of the funereal wood.
"You are losing precious time"
urged Rameau. "Strike the coward's
blow and enjoy the assassiu's triumph.
When next you preach, take Thou
shalt not kill for text"
Burns stopped lower, his face grow
ing livid, his whole frame shaking as
with an ague.
"Hypocrite of hypocrites," con-
tinued Rameau, "and fool Of fools!
End up your Christian career with
numbering a helpless and dying man!
What lovely thing this Christianity
is! Stab away, why don't you?"
Rameau was very weak, and over
his firm, strangely complacent face
was creeping an ashy pallor.
Burns knelt down astride of him
and grasped the collar of his coat with
his left hand, while with his right he
slowly lifted tho knife. He did not
strike, however, but lowered the
weapon and gazed vaguely around him
and up, as if he had heard something
that troubled him.
The wood was strangely silent, save
that, far aloft, the breeze sighed in
the tree.tops.
"Ah, your courage fails you, does
it?" Rameau sneered. "Your dys-
peptic soul shrinks and falters in its
hour of triumph! Pluck up a little
spirit, Max Burns; don't let your last
grand opportunity slip away from
you"
Again the old man began to lift the
knife, but his hand seemed nncon-
trollable. What was it overhead that
made him look up with such an express
sion, of his eyes? His lips moved
dum6ly.
Rameau's narrow gaze grew awfully
intense.
"You are to blame for my life and
yours" he growled hoarsely. "You
are to blame for everything! You set
your selfish, hypocritical, canting OBJ
jections between Margaret and me;
poisoned our lives with your drivel-
ing, sanctimonious deceit and bigotry;
drove her from home; made brute of
me, and now here We are dying
together! Stab, you cowardly old as
sassin, stab"
If Burns had heard him, be gave no
sign; his face was still upturnel and
over his emaciate@ features and into
his sunken eyes hal come look Of
supplication. Was he praying?
"None of that here!" exclaimed
Rameau, noticing the rapt stare and
the moving lips. "You shall not make
an altar of me for your internal num-
mery!"
As he spoke, he feebly lifted one of
his half-paralyLed legs and tried to
strike Burns in the back with his
knee.
1t was futile attempt, and the ex.
hausted outlaw settled down with grim
resignation to await the end, what,
ever it might be.
Burns drew his left hand, which had
been clutching Rameau's collar, across
his forehead and eyes, as if to clear
his vision. and looked all around, then
up into the tree.tops. One seeing him
would have been sure that the old
mau had heard familiar voice call
ing him. He was now sitting heavily
on Ramean's breast and his shoulders
were collapsed.
"Margaret! Margaret" he presently
cried in a strange, far-reaching half
whisper. "Did you call me, Mar
garet?"
''ldiot!' snarled Rameau, in whose
throat the breath was rattling somin-
ously. "Can't you see that I am
dying? You are going to lose your
revenge you don't strike soon What
do you see2 What are you staring at?"
Margaret Come nearer, Mar
garet!'
"Fool, make haste!"
"Speak, Margaret! Speak to me
again."
Burns leaned and gszed; the cold
sweat stood on his wrinkled forehead;
his eyes glowed with some inexpress-