Clarke courier. [volume] (Berryville, Va.) 1869-1997, 1901-08-28

=" III gay from the coffee phnta-
tlons To the town. Juan was nor. q
brother. In the natural course OF
events he would have married Ma
re and become master of the little
shack In the heights. Juan always
smiled when the soldier came. It Ia
the way the poor Porto Rican peon
mad been taught to smile in the
presence of a white man. even
though ones heart be breaking. The
fathers of Juan had learned this les
son well years ago when the Span
lards came.
tor long time big Darby did not
understand about Juan, since the
latter gave not the slightest hint
that he would be rival. and Marie
never noticed her native lover after
the white soldier had reached the
top OF the trail. Her ardent heart
could contain no subtlety, nor was
II large enough for more than one
romance.
One night while tie soldier and
Marie were talking softly together
poor Juan forgot the outer world.
forgot everything but the pain in
hls heart and the hOpelessness of his
lie. When Marie had been only a
wee maid, toddling about in the sun
clad In single garment, he had
searched the hills for hours to find
the largest, choicest oranges for her.
Long before the white man came he
had saved pennies until they grew
INTO pesos-each one the price of
many days of toll from dawn till
dark on the hot trails-saved them
for her. He did not hate the white
man, but the wound in his heart
hurt desperately, and for a moment
the law and the lessons of his IA
theirs were forgotten. His face be-
came the mirror of his heart. Ago
ny, not rebellion, was reflected
there.
1t was strange moment for bic
Darby. The perfume, the starlight.
the sweet torrid air, had put spell
of romance in his brain. His years
had long been bitter and lonely. He
saw nothing ahead except more such
years and then a soldiers home in
which to brood and wither and die
unless Here was a young girl
who had made him her hero. her
king. There was no one warming
for him back in the northland-no
one who cared for him, not even an
old mother to bless him. Long ago
he had killed all ambition. He need
never again go north. His enlist
ment would be finished in month,
and then he would have money. He
might live in these beautiful hills
until the sun had burned him black.
like the others, and his faroff dream
of home and a woman would be a
dream no longer, and the wander
spirit within him would give way to
perfect rest and his brooding heart
to peace.
Big Darby was breathing hard.
The eyes of the hill maiden, Marie,
were strained toward his. Now he
knew that she was a woman, not a
little girl. His thought had laid
this fact bare He need only to lean
over and touch his lips to hers, and
the great change would be wrought
in an instant The years had been
long and lonely since a woman had
turned her face toward his. Big
Darby's eyes were dry; an aching
lump filled his troat 4 kiss that
moment would have destroyed the
mOnotony of the years. 1t would
have fixed a bright vision in what
had been a desolate future. 1t would
have been the cornerstone upon
which nature could build a great
white castle of romance.
That moment big Darby saw the
face of Juan, the OK driver. 1t was
turned toward the low southeast,
where a great pale moon was rising,
and upon that face of Juan, the OK
driver, big Darby saw the tragedy of
a breaking heart. The seal was not
affixed. The trooper arose to his
feet, shook himself like a great beast
that has slept under the weight of
an ugly dream and moved slowly
down the trail. Juan started to his
feet quickly, but he did not under
stand. Senorita Marie would have
followed, but the trooper spoke:
'No, no; manana."
The manner of his words was con-
vincing. Big Darby turned on a
cross trail and walked and walked.
At length he came to river-the
tiny Coroxal, which was tinkling
noisily over the stones and down the
mountain to the bosom of its parent,
the Rio Grande. Darby sat down
upon a rock at the rivers edge. He
had done no wrong. The face of
Juan had sent the crushing truths
home in time. His dream of a life
in these fruit laden hills with Marie
was beautiful, but not according to
the law. In the memory of the