The daily morning Alaskan., 1902-08-20
BY Curran R. Greenley

threw long green arms or lovehness
around the small diamond p0nes OF the
windows. A straight box bordered path
led down TO the gate through an ave
nuo OF beeches whore the sunlight fell
In lance riffs down upon the blue grass
fresh with the green OF May-Maytime
m old Kentucky IN the year OF our Lord
1893. Beyond the rustic gate broad,
white road ran from east 20 west.
Those were strange professions that
wound along the great highroad. the
artery OF trade from the east over the
Aleghanios 70 Kentucky and tho south
ern country that lay beyond In the gate
way OF the wllderness-long trains OF
white covered wagons filled with a
medley OF women. children. household
goods. with their escorts Of stalwart
men on horseback. Already the hegira
10 the west had commenced, often
tribe OF ChOctaws bound for the Wig
wan OF the great father, grim, dusk
faces under nodding plumes, animated
bundles, with smaller bundles bound TO
their backs, astrlde OF the ponies, silent
as ghosts, and passing always passing
up the long white road.
Twice each day, with the long tan
tarara.ra OF the bugles and the rattle
OF whip and hoof, came the stagecoaeh,
a fash OF color from east 20 west, and
again ;he quiet OF earth and sky.
Over the hills, whose dim, blue line
encompasscd her world around, the
chlld's heart went each day with the
diving echo OF hOof and bugle; over
the hills. where the gold lights OF sun
set kissed the pink limestone ellis.
Frightening 20 emerald green the tufts
OF maidcuhair IN the deep clcfts, and
farther mp. where thc mists caught and
held them. deepening into the evenings
violet crown.
a slim. SHY maid OF barely Fifteen, In
l.r lauc narrow skirt and prim scr
chief drawn tightly across the childish
breast the smnu brown hand shading
her level rrows. she watched With
wi~tful eyes up the long ribbon Of
ro.d-dttle Anne. with her peach bios
,um face and soft gray eyes chat had
Jared 20 look from under their long
black hshos at q face that was tho
face Of peoples hero; not all the PEG.
pie. Tor hero iu her fathers house Anne
had heard fierce dcnunclations and
oven curses against that name. But
when had politics aught TO do with a
maids romuncing7 Deep down I'm her
heart the g.rl cherished the memory
q one summer evening. when all alone
the rrCat man refined I'm his horse and
sprans from the saddle 20 walk and
tax with a pretty child. Two years
had como and gono. but over the low
gate Anne leaned and dreamed Of her
hero as did that Lisa In furoG Italy
Of her King.
The evening shadows grew longer
and the sun vanished behind the hills
as the tinklc OF bells chimcd up from
the pasture. With eyes still dream
thrallcd Anne wandered out and across
the road 20 where the spring dubbed
up from lis messy pool A little rustic
summer house sheltered Il, and the 1T
tie stream lost itself IN n dense thicket
Of hazel bushes that grew close up to
the arhor. The girls light foot made
no sound as she entered and dropped
down upon the seat Voices close at
hand aroused her as a low murmur
came from the hazel copse.
"rhc best place is where the road
comes through Hungerford's woods,
this side OF the MILL"
Then another voice; IL don't like Il.
It's doing an the dirty work and get
ting the kicks for pay. Let them as
wants him out Of the way put him
there"
And the first voice answered with an
oath: whats that to your The men
that wants Andrew Jackson dead
haln't the men as risks nuthln."
Andrew Jackson" Anne's heart
gave a great bound. then almost stop
ped. as there was IA rustic among the
bushes. she strained her ears TO catch
the last words
Hell likely spend tonight at Hun
gcrfords, leaving there by dRybreak."
"No. There haln't but one Niger
along. He don't IKE comply a-travel-
In" And the low chuckle died in the
distance.
II was nearly dark as Anne crept out
from her hiding place and glanced fear
fully up the long white road She
knew that Hungerford's lay fifteen
miles away as the crow files, and to
reach II would mean a ride through the
night-morning would DO too late;
knew too, poor child, that in the hearts
OF those about her dwelt tho bitterest
hatred OF the man that she would have
risked her life to savol Not that they
would have lifted a hand against his
life, but they would have laughed her
story down and babe her hush, as chill
dren should.
Alone IN her little white curtained
room she knelt and prayed her simple
prayer. She had always been afraid Of
the dark-the dark that was like whis-
pering lips IN your ear and the touch
Of soft fingers clutchlng at your gown
but the life Of her hero was the high
guerdon Of the deed.
Ono by one each door was closed
She heard her fathers chair pushed
back and knew that he was laying his