Waterbury evening Democrat., 1903-07-30
At the End
 of the Trail -=============== - ==== x ======= ? By J.. w. FIU NIT -t
Copyright, 1908, by Daily Story Pub. Col

UA UICK, Uncle Amos, somebody's
 killed Marjory!"'
 The speed with which she had come left scant breath to deliver her mes sage, and she jerl1ed 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, Marjory and two girl friends Marjory was playing. The windows were open. Tn the midst of the music there was shot and Marjory, clasp ing her side, tumbled from her seat and died, almost without word. Who had done 1t? 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 uEfaltering resolution, the undaunted 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 buggy, drawn by a 9ast-stepping horse, was brought aeround 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 tfag- edy.
 It was setting filter for pastoral than 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 picturesque 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- garded her rather askance, until, won by the charming simplicity and blame Iessness 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, mur- 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 l 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 occur ence, which added nothing to what Ahe had already learned from Lucy.
 ''The shot was fired through this window; the position of the wound ! proves as much, and the assassin prob l ably fred from that clump of Klacs. See, it is perfect line from there to the piano"
 It was the doctor who spoke.
 "And has search been made that way?" asked Uncle Amos, waving his hand in the direction of the lilacs.
 Every foot of the ground has been gone over, clear to the road.'
 "And+ you have found-''
 Nothing. Absolutely nothing, ex- cept broken stalk of the lilac bush. ''
 Broken. how?"
 With the hand, apparently. It is at about the height of man and looks | ScrAA T aside and broken by some one hicing there who wished a clearer view of the 1 house."
 s'And has any one touched it since?'
 Touched it?. No" 5
 ''Then there is way" Uncle Amos exclaimed. "See to it that no enc dis. turbs the place until ret urn''
 t'But what are you going to t>. :"
 "Get the bloodhound from tn. reo. pie at the old qsarry and put him on the scent; arouse the neighborhood and run the scoundrel to earth'' Without further words he clambered into his buggy and, gathering up tue lines, was whirled away into the lengthening shadows cf the after. l noon.
 The sun had almost set when the l buggy, followed by men. women and children, all who were a':'e to walk ] again drew up before the ( pr 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 puppy l And the crowd watched t in silence