Monroe City Democrat. (Monroe City, Mo.) 1888-1919, 1904-10-20

a rough towel sent the blood ungnns
through his bruised and weary limbs.
Already he was a different man. But
the transformation was not yet COM
plete.
Neatly Numbered linen and fresh
silken undergarments were among the
stores of the old travelling bag. He
dressed himself slowly and deliberate
ly, by and by standing forth in the
dead mans shoes and corduroys, APP
pareled completely from head to heel.
In the pockets of the garments he
found many things. A silver cigar
clipper, cigar case, a seal purse con-
tanning $500 in bills, a card case, key
ring, a pen-knife and a magnificent
gold watch, fob and seal.
His mud-splashed, brier-torn gar
ments he left on the chair in lieu of
the corduroys, disturbing nothing that
had been his own. Reckoned dollar
for dollar he was leaving twice the
amount in valuables that he was TAX
ing.
I'm stepping from one life into an
other" he said to himself, there must
be fair exchange. But this is better
than fair. leave with him more
personal property than / appropriate
and better reputation than he has to
give. l am an innocent man believed
to be guilty, while he is guilty, but
supposed to be innocent. His limo
cence must shield me while work out
my own salvation"
Standing beside the bunk, Darrell
gave the calm face and stony, staring
eyes a long farewell look. McCloud
was a young man to have stepped
aside" so early in the game of life.
He had come west to live down mis-
deeds Of the east. There was nothing
strange in that, for many a man had
done likewise.
But he had relatives, near ones and
dear friends, a sweetheart-wealth,n no
doubt. Darrell sighed and closed the
lids over the staring eyes. He longed
to cover the young face, with its evil
dence OF suffering, but he dared do no
more.
Circumstances had placed Darrell in
his present unpleasant plight. From
now on he must pay due regard to cir
cumstances and at all times consider
them well.
Moodily he paced the confines of the
hut, the f1gurative terms of the doc
tors letter running through his brain.
Gradually his face grew rapt and ec-
static.
He could add something to the
tragic circumstances under which the
body would be found. In a moment
he had dropped down at the table.
Tearing yellow scrap from the pa
per bag that had contained the lunch
con, he fumbled through the unaccus-
toned pockets until he had found a
pencil.
Then he wrote:
Flight of star, or shiver1ng beam
Failing athwart the storm-cloud's
wrack,
Follow and find is it truth or dream,
Lamp of the gods or a glow-worm's
track.
ND.
He was not a poet-he could not lay
that flattering JUNCTION to his soul. A
poet is not a man who feels but a
man who can write what all men feel.
This quatrain was as near as Darrell
could come to Analysing, in words, the
emotions of the moment. McCloud
had gone into the unknown of death
while this other fugitive was steering
towards the unknown in life.
Over the head of the bunk Darrell
left his verse, impaling it on a silver
of wood. Then he packed McCloud's
belongings in the travelling bag ard
started from the hut. At the door he
paused and turned, his eyes on the
still form in the bunk.
81 leave you here, Nathan Darrell"
he said, IAN innocent, we'll meaning
man who Jared i'll at the hands OF
others and who tried to be honest but
could not be honorable. Now let us
see how we'll Junius McCloud retrieves
himself"
Half an hour later he was riding
through the gray dawn, mounted on
the calico cayuse and with the old
travelling bag fast at the saddle-can-
tie.
CHAPTER X.
Darrell AGAIN AT THE HALF WAY