The Republican. [volume] (Oakland, Md.) 1877-current, 1903-08-20
At the End
of the Trail
BY j. w. H u MT
tCopyright. 1905. by Daily story Pub. CO..

40 LICK, Uncle Amos, somebody's
" killed Marjory!"
The speed with which she had come
left scant breath to deliver her mes
sage, and she jerbed it out in short
gasps to the old man sitting so peace
fully in a rocking chair on the little
porch. bringing him to his feet with
something of the vigor of 20 years be-
fore. while a motherly little old wom-
an hurried out from her task in the
kitchen, her four-smeared hands
raised to Heaven in shocked surprise.
Horror was on the faces of her au-
ditors as the girl sobbed her tale. They
had been gathered about the piano,
she, Mariory and two girl friends
Mariory was playing. The windows
were open. In the midst of the music
there was a shot and Marjory, clasp
ing her side. tumbled from her seat
and died. almost without a word. Who
had done it? They had not stopped to
inquire. While a servant had run for
the nearest doctor she had hurried for
Uncle Amos.
As he listened there were reflected
IN the old mans eyes the qualities
which had made him the recognized
power that he was in the little COM
munity, the shrewd common sense, the
q uufaltering resolution. the undaunted
courage of a born leader of men, A
few rapidly spoken orders set busy
hands at work on strap and buckle.
ard almost before the messenger had
finished her tale a buggy, drawn by
faSt-stepping horse, was brought
around from the stable and Uncle
Amos had taken his seat and turned
the animals head into the shady lane
that led toward the scene of the trag-
eGy.
1t was a setting filter for a pastoral
than tale of blood. that rambling
house. hiding its gable ends in clam
hering rose vines and crouched in the
shade Of noble elms. Always one of
the picturesque spots of the neighbor-
hood, it had lost nothing of its attrac-
tiveness in the hands of its new ten
ant, Mrs. Dennison, who two years be-
fore had come into the community and
made her home at Rose Gable. As she
made no secret of the fact that she was
unhappily married and had separated
from her husband, the good people re-
garded her rather askance, until, won
by the charming simplicity and blame
lessness of her life, they had recon-
structed their code of ethics on
broader scale and had ended by loving
her. And now she was dead muir
dered! Who could have done it? What
did it mean?
Uncle Amos asked himself these
questions time and time again while
his trotter drew him swiftly to the
scene of the tragedy, but he was far
from imagining an answer when he
drew rein in the drive before the house
and confronted the tear-stained faces
Of the household. Silently he listened
to their recital of the occurrence,
which added nothing to what he had
already learned from Lucy.
''The shot was fired through this
window; the position of the wound
proves as much, ana the assassin prob
ably fired from thas clump of lilacs.
See, it is perfect line from there to
the piano"
1t was the doctor who spoke.
And has search been made that
way?' asked Uncle Amos, waving his
hand in the direction of the !ilacs.
Every foot of the ground has Leen
gone over. clear to the road"
"And you have found"
Nothing. Absolutely nothing. eX-
cept a broken stalk of the lilac bush"
Broken, how?"
''With the hand, apparently. It is at
about the height of a man and looks
as though it might have been twisted
aside and broken by some one hiding
there who wished clearer view of the
house"
"And has any one touch ed it since?"
"Touched it? No"
"Then there is way" Uncle Amos
exclaimed. "See to it that no one dis
turbs the place until I return"
"But what are you going to do?''
'Get the bloodhound from the peo-
pc at the old quarry and put him on
the scent; arouse the neighborhood
ard run the sconndrel to earth"
Without further words lie clambered
into his buggy and, gathering up tue
lines, was whirled away into the
lcagthening shadows of the after
noon.
The sun had almost set when the
buggy. followed by men, women and
children, all who were able to walk,
again drew up before the door of Rose
Gable. The great brute was lifted out
and stretching its gaunt, powerful
form after the cramping ride. rolled
on the soft cool grass. like a pupDv