Iron County register. [volume] (Ironton, Iron County, Mo.) 1867-1965, 1903-11-05

CHASTITY performance il is, this takins
Your W dead in your arms and carry
ing them miles for burial, only to have
some vandal dig them up in a few
months if you don't pay your grave
rent. They have queer practices here
in our new possessions, bat | suppose
the poor devils think they are happy
l might step ove and see it through.
Hang that brute, but | am sore!"
He wandered languidly over, slipping
quietly in the church door and stand
ing back in the shadow that his in
trusion might not be observed and re-
sented by the poor wretch in front
From where the American stood he
could see the lidless ~pasteboard box
as 1t lay before the altar and the tiny
occupant with his crossed hands and
the slowly whiting flowers in his
fingers. The light of the candles paled
before a slender shaft Of sunshine,
striking down from a window and
cleaning acros the poems face when
ever he raised his head. Marsden's
eyes wandered slowly from peon to
child, from child to priest, and back
again to the man who had carried his
son over the hills in the early morn
ing, to give him the last rites of his
church. Then he slipped out again,
as quietly as he had entered, and was
leaning over the rough wall of the
cemetery when the peon came out.
\ Thau hod n n,,no, foca;not;D-N fon
him, these cemeteries of Spanish
America. He frowned musingly as his
eyes wandered to the corners of the
enclosure. where lay the bones of the
evicted dead, dug coolly from their
graves and flung here as refuse, be-
cause their grave rental was past due.
Savage CUSTOM" Marsden muttered,
and forgot the dishonored bones as the
peon came again into his line of
vision. He limped slightly, and
stopped as though years of toll had
bent and stiffened him, as he went
toward the little stone building at the
end of the cemetery, scarcely to be
termed a receiving vault, being barren
of everything save four walls and a
roof, and in which the dead were thrust
until there were enough of them to
bury at once.
When he came out, leaving the
fiower-wreathed box behind him, the
American barred his path, staring at
him c%uriously.
Good morning, my friend. 1t oc-
ours to me that you have considerable
nerve"
Like a flash the weary stoop van
ished, and the limping peon was a tall
h%alf-breed with scowling brow, erect
and muscular.
"Senor Americano!" he responded,
jauntily, and squared his shoulders
in cool defiance, but the CLEAN in his
eyes was not pleasant as he took in
the probable chances Of escape or cap
ture. A group of men were coming
down the road; the padre was just
leaving the church door.
why did you do it," Marsden
asked, steadily.
"Why not, senior? Is the son of a
VI loolIu w w NV ouG oi hC i L
side, like a dog?'
He shrugged his shoulders insolent-
ly, but his narrowing eyes were meas
uring the distance between himself
and the~Americano, and again to the
group of men who walked between him
and the hills.
"You were fortunate to escape Sc
nor. Where Pedro Gonzales strikes he
also kills, that no man may point to
him and say, That man is Pedro Con-
zales, the robber.'"
The Americana gave no attention.
He was rubbing his shoulder thought
fully, and looking beyond at the little
stone house of the dead. The woman's
voice was insistently in his ears. He
guessed now for what she had been
pleading, and what had lain on the
bed in the dark corner. He turned his
gaze back to the half-breed as though
he were studying some curious
psychological phenomenon.
81 think you'd better be going" he
suggested, casually, a grim smile pull
ing at the orner of his mouth. 1.-THE
climate of the valley is not healthy
for persons accustomed to dryer air,
especially robbers. If we should meet
in town, l have a poor memory for
faces, you know, but if | ever see you
again in the hills, I shall probably try
to shoot you"
A look of uncompreh ending wonder
spread over the half-breed's face, but
a flashing smile of intelligence fol-
lowed it. The tall figure dropped again
to it's aged stoop, and limped painfully
past Marsden, making for the road and
liberty.
"The senior is a good enemy" floated
back over his shoulder. ut is pleas
ant to fight a brave man. Adios."
He passed the group on the road
safely, and a moment later vanished
into the tangle of trees and brush
leading into the hills.
At dawn the next morning a saddled
horse was found before the PADRES
door, and there was great wonderment
in that village when Marsden recog-
| nized it as his own, but the Americana
| kept his own counsel, and smiled wise
ly to himself as he mounted and went
forth again on his journey.-Good
| Literature.
Where Her Pain Was.