The Kinsley graphic. [volume] (Kinsley, Kan.) 1890-1940, 1903-11-20
he muttered as he walked towards

Hintonville there was a highway
branching towards the west. When
he reached this he took it without
| hesitation. He had no intention of
| trying to catch the train, but haA
spoken of doing so as plausible ex-
cuse fog Lis hasty departure. Plans
he had none, needed none. He was
to drift again, wait, a vagrant, a
common vagabond. Now nothing
| mattered. Money he had, more than
he had possessed that year, but of
what special avail was it? In the
life to which he was returning he
could manage quite as easily with
out it. : He trudged on steadily, his
mind a babel of emotions.S One by
one he reviewed the scenes of his
hop-yard life, in which Miss Dens-
more always appeared as the central
figure, but chiefly he dwelt upon his
return to consciousness after the en-
counter In the dip of the Blue Creek
Road. It must have been pity not
love that he had seen in Miss Dens-
more's eyes as she had bent above
him. Yes, it must have been that,
and yet the look haunted him, and
continued to do SO.
By and by he found himself near
ing the valley of the Oskenonto. As
he halted an instant before seeking
the lower level, fierce pulsating
flame 1eaped up into the hollow of
the night, and he knew that he was
not far. from the blast furnace of
Harkana. Descending, he chose
road that led him past the fiaring
stacks, and paused to watch the fiery
waves of molten iron pour into the
moulds of sand. He crossed the fur
mace slag-heaps, hideous even in the
starlight, and beyond the Oskenonto
and the abandoned Susquenango ca
nal found a highway ascending into
the hills. Whittier it wound he had
no notion, and naught did he care.
The hills appealed to him. He would
60 up among them as high as might
be. and so he struck into this road.
For a time he assembled gradually,
then it became stony and steep. Be-
hind him, from time to time, the
stacks of the furnace shot streamers
of red and blue and orange into the
night, illulnining briefly and weirdly
the heaven and the earth. Occasion
ally a cloud would srefect the glow
after the fame had died, mock sun
rise or sunset. Towards smidnight,
when he he'd won. high among the
uplands, the moon rose, a crumbling
segment of pale gold.
Rossiter was now weary, and pres
emily straw-stack in field adjoin-
ing the highway suggested a desir-
able place of rest. He scaled the
fence and approached the stack, be-
coming conscious, as he did so, of the
sound of heavy breathing. Some
one, 1t was evident, had already
| availed himself of free nights lodg-
| ing. Rossiter hesitated an instant
| and then went forward. Doubtless
there would be plenty of accommoda-
| ton for two. On the eastern side Of
the stack, revealed distinctly by the
| moonlight, was the huddled body of
a man. There could be no harm,
Rossiter thought, in having closer
glance at his fellow-lodger. He adj
vanced cautiously a few PAGES and
peered down, to start back in amaze
ment and dismay, for he had gazed
upon the repulsive face of "Whis-
| kers."
Swiftly ard silently he retraced his
steps to the road, his mind swept by
a powerful reaction. Voluntarily ne
had returned to the level of this de-
testable creature, had allowed the
first disappointment to overthrow
every firm resolve of the past weeks,
and had gone miserably down once
more into the very slough of degen-
eracy. Out of the realization of his
instability, the Overwhelming sense
of his bitter shame, by some strange
and sudden revulsion his spirit rose
triumphant. He bowed his head
with Gods help" he said, sit is
the last timei''
He strobe downwari towards the
valley, and mile from the straw
stack found a sleeping place in a
shed. Slumber soon brought its boon
of forgetfulness, but before it did so
he summoned from the depths of his
recollection the lovely contour of
Miss Densmore's face.
After ALL" he thought, musing
upon the sweetness of what might
have been, st is blessing to have
known her!"
When he reused the following
morning the. sun had scattered the
banked mists above the hills beyond
the Merton farm, and as he stood
in the doorway of his rude shelter
blinking in the gGstening light, q
farmer approached driving market
ward with heaped wagon-load OF
potatoes. The two men exchanged
chances and mods.
"Bound for Hintonville ?" inquired
d Rossiter.
yep. That's where I'm goin'," was
fthe reply.
Perhaps you wouldn't mind giving
me a lift, then?" -