The county record. [volume] (Kingstree, S.C.) 1885-1975, 1903-12-31
Rameau's narrow gaze grew awiully

Rameau's narrow gaze grew awiully
intense.
"You arc to blame for my life aud
yours!" he growled hoarsely. "You
are to blame for everything! You set
your selfish, hypocritical, canting OBJ
iections between Margaret and me;
poisoned our lives with your drivel-
ing, sanctimonious deceit and bigotry;
drove her from home; made brute Of
me, and now here We are dying
together! Stab, you cowardly old as
sassin, stab"
If Burns had heard him, heg gave no
sign; his face was still upturned and
over his emaciated features and into
his sunken eyes had come q look OF
, supplication. Was he praying?
"None of that here!" exclaimed
Rameau, noticing the rapt stare and
The moving lips. "You shall not make
IN altar of me for your internal num-
mery!" .
As he spoke, he feebly lifted one Of
ais half-paralyzed legs and tried to
strike Burns in the back with his
knee.
It was a futile attempt, and the ex-
hausted outlaw settled down with grim
resignation to await the end, what
ever it might be.
Burns drew his left hand, which had
been clutching Rsmeau's collar. across
his forehead aud eyes, as if to clear
his vision. and looked all around, then
up into the tree-tops. One seeing him
would have been sure that the old
| man had heard a familiar voice call
ing him. He was now sitting heavily
on Rameau's breast and his shoulders
were collapsed.
margaret! Margaret" he presently
cried in a strange, far-reaching half
whisper. "Did you call me, Mar
garet?"
'tIdiotp' snarled Rameau, in whose
throat the breath was rattling6 6omin-
ously. "Can't you see that 1 am
dying? You are going to lose your
revenge if you don't strike soonl What
do you see? What are you staring at?"
Margaret! Come nearer, Mar
garrett"
"Fool, make haste!"
"Speak, Margaret! Speak to mo
again!" -.
Burns leaned and eazsd; the cold
sweat stood on his wrinkled forehead; !;
his eyes glowed with some inexpress-
ible ecstasy.
"Dolt! Dotard! Do the dead ever
speak? Your own selfish stubbornness
killed her, not my hand; and now you
ask her to speak! Take your knife
and strike your own heart with it as
you struck hers with your"
Rameau was speaking rapidly,
huskily; his voice seemed to futter in
his throat, when Burns stopped him
with throttling grasp.
"Hush!" cried the old man. "You
frighten her, and she will not speak. !"
Was it a smile or q swift spasm Of
pain that lighted up the outlaws face?
The breathing OF the two men whis-
pered strangely in the silent wood.
"What is that on your breast, Mar
garet? A wound? Oh, my poor
child! Who did it?"
"I did it! told you that long ago!
I did it," gasped Rameau.
"You! You did i'll" screamed
Burns, supporting his weight again
on his knees and uplifting the knife
with an arm as rigid now rs steel.
'sKirk MacCollough-"
eyes, I, Kirk MacCollough"
Once more the old man faltered and
listened, his eyes turning in every di-
rection. Suddenly he looked up, and
I great cry escaped his lips:
Heavenly Masters 1t Thou?
His face changed; it was like trans.
iguration; it was illumination.
|
When Mr.. Vernon and Lieutenant
Ballanche came upon the scene OF this
!ast meeting between Max Burns and
Kirk Mace Collough, they found both
men lying dead.
The outlaws face was still strangely
handsome, and wore, even in that aw-
:ul repose, trace of the old reckless
Indifference to consequences.
Burns's face was downward, and his
snife was driven to the hilt i'll the
lamp ground.
/ Mr.. Vernon stood for long while
ooking at the dead. What he thought
,as never been revealed.