The Starkville news. (Starkville, Miss.) 1902-1960, 1903-08-14
At the End
of the Trail
BY j. w. HU Mt
Copyright, 1908. by Daily Story Pub. Coz
"0UIcK. Uncle Amos, n. somebody's
~ killed Marjory!"

UICK, Uncle Amos, somebody's
III killed Marjory!"
The speed with which she had come
left scant breath to deliver her mes
sage, and she jerked 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 wonl-
an hurried OFT from her task In tie
kitchen, her flour-smeared hanCs
raised to Heaven in shocked surprise.
Horror was on the faces Of her All
ditors as the girl sobbed her tale. They
had been gathered about the piano.
she. Marjory and two girl friends.
Mariory was playing. The windows
were Open In the midst of the music
there was shot and Marjory, clasp
ing her side, tumbled from her se"t
and died. almost without word. Who
had done it? They had not stopped 20
inquire While a servant had run for
the nearest doctor she had hurried for
Uncle Amos.
AS he listened there were refiectec
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
unfaltering resolution. the undaunte6
courage of born leader of men. A
few rapidly spoken orders set busy
hands at work on strap and buckle,
and almost before the messenger had
finished her tale a buggy, drawn by a
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 trs,g
edy.
1t was a setting filter for pastoral
than a tale Of blood. that rambling
house, hiding its gable ends in clam
bering rose vines and crouched in the
shade of noble elms. Always one of
the pictur esque spots of the neighbor-
hood. it had lost nothing of its attrac-
tiveness in the hands of it's 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-
parded her rather askance, until, won
by the charming simplicity and blame
lessness of her life, they had recon-
structed their code of ethics on a
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
tn their recital of the occurI ence,
which added nothing to what he had
already learned from Lucy.
"The shot was fred through this
window; the position of the wound
proves as much, and the assassin prob
ably fred from that clump of ilacs.
See, it is a perfect line from there to
the piano"
1t was the doctor who spoke.
SAnd has search been made that
way?" asked Uncle Amos, waving his
hand in the direction OF the ilacs.
"Every foot of the ground has been
zone over. clear to the road"
"And you have found"
"Nothing. Absolutely nothing, ex-
cept broken stalk of the lilac bush. "
sBroken, howl"