Willmar tribune. [volume] (Willmar, Minn.) 1895-1931, 1901-11-27
stood trembling, irresolute. Would

nOJnlng help him? -'t e.. 3'.~ =
! "You speak of my-engagement,"
he Numbered blinded on. >'I wish
you'd tell me-about yours
''Mine? Oh-with the Red Cross,
you mean?" And shame be to Won,
Maidie Ray, you knew-you we'll
knew-he didn't.
II mean-to Mr.. Foster. Mrs.
Brent has just told me"
"Mrs. Brent!" interposed Miss Ray
in a. futter of amaze. That carriage
is coming nearer every instant,
driving like mad, Brent on the. back
seat and a whip-lashing demon on
the box. There will be no time for
love-tales once that burly warrior re-
turns to his own. Yet she is fencing,
parrying, holding him at bay, for his
heart is bubbling over with the tor
rent of it's love and yearning and
pleading.
What are bullet-wounds and brevets
ter? His heart was high, his voice
rang clear and exultant, his eyes
flashed joy and fire and defiance in
the face of a thousand deaths two
| weeks ago. But here in the pres
ence of a slender girl he can do
naught but falter and stammer and
tremble.
Crack, crack, spatter, clatter, and
crash comes the little carriage and
team whirling into the San Luis. He
hears it now. He knows what it
means to him-Brent back and the
pent-up words still unspoken! 1t
nerves him to the test, it spurs him
to the leap, it drives the blood bound
ing through his veins, it sends him
darting round the table to her side,
penning her, as it were, between him
and the big bamboo chair. And now
her heart too is all in a flutter, for
the outer works are carried in his
impetuous DASH, the assailant is at
the very citadel.
"Marion!" he cried, "tell me, was
there-tell me there was no engage
ment! Tell me there is little hope
for me! Oh, you are blind if you CO
not see, if you have not seen all
along, that I've loved you ever since
the first day I ever saw you. Tell
me-quick!"
Too late. Up comes Brent on the
run, and Marion springs past the
would-be OBTAINING arm. where's
Mrs. R-?'' pants the warrior.
'Hully, Stuyvie? I was afraid you'd
got the news and gone out in Gao.
Mira, I want my belt and pistol"
"Where you going?" bursts in the
lady of the house-the spoons for
gotten.
"Out to San Pedro! It's only three
miles. Our fellows are going to drive
'em out of Guadalupe woods. Ready,
Stuy? Of course you want to see it.
ORWELL do you good, too. Come on"
Indeed, you don't stir a step, Col.
Brent!-not a step! What business
have you going into action? You did
enough fighting 40 years ago.
Brent, deaf to her expostulation, ia
rushing to the steps, buckling his
belt on the run, but ''M'ria" grabs the
slack of the khaki coat and holds
him. Stuyvesant springs for his hat.
1t has vanished. Marion, her hands
behind her, her lips parted, her heart
pounding hard, has darted to the
broad door to the salon, and there,
leaning against the framing, she con-
fronts him.
At the rear of the salon Thisbe has
grappled Pyramus and is being pulled
to the head of the stairs; at the head,
RQ9 frioo will 11r1oTrto1
cealing a sinking heart, defes Benz
dick.
'My hat, please" he demands, his
eyes lighting with hope and promise
of victory.
"You have no right" she begins.
"You are still a patient" But now,
with bowed head, she is struggling,
for he has come close to her; so close
that his heart and hers might al
most meet in their wild lea4ing, so
close that in audacious search for the
missing headgear his hands are
reaching down behind the shrinking.
slender little form, and his long,
sinewy arms almost encircling her.
The war of words at the back stairs
snow trebly laundering swelled the
gale,'' but it is not heard here at the
front.
His hands have grasped her wrists
now. His blond head is bowed down
over hers, so that his lips hover close
to the part of the dusky hair. my
hat, Maidie," he cries, cor I'll-I'll
take what I want!" Both hands
tugging terrifically at those slender
wrists now, and yet not gaining an
inch. "Do you hear? I'll-I'n take
"You shan't!" gasps Miss Ray,
promptly burying her glowing face
in the breast of that happy khaki,
and thereby tacitly admitting thac
she knows just what he wants so
much more than that hat.
And then the long, white hands re-
lease their hold of the slim, white
wrists; the muscular arms twinc
tight about her, almost lifting her
from her feet; the bonny brown head
bows lower still, his mustache brush
ing the soft, damask-like cheek. II
must go, Maidie-darling!" he whis-
pers, without the hat if need be, but
not without-this-and this.-and
this-and this and this ''-and the last
one fingers long just at the corner of
the warm, winsome, rosy lips. She
could not prevent it-perhaps she did
not try.
THE END.
Lamb i'm Either Case.
One of the editors who read the
manuscript Of Henry. Thew Stephe n