The Indianapolis journal. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1867-1904, 1904-04-24

/ ii leCllOn IlOLSdIu III a tOSS-
ing sea of green verdure. a
I2xI group Of low, implanted buildings
huddled together beneath a clat-
tering windmill in hollow square of dwarf
willow hedge.
From out of the shimmering south came
the old stage road, rising and falling with
the gentle swells of the prairie, passing
the house between long files of purple
topped ironweeds and stretching its length
on and on, a white scar across the face
of nature. that finally ran into the foot
hills of the north and disappeared.
A solitary traveller plodded over the rise,
shuffied through the dust to the house and
asked for d drink of water; but even while
raising the cup TO his lips he gave little
shiver and slid TO the porch floor in dead
faint.
1t is not the way of the plains to turn
stranger from the door, besides which the
man was burning with fever, and so the
Simpsons took the wanderer in and cared
for him.
After some days of INDIFFERENT babblng
the man came suddenly to his wits and
found himself in a cool. quiet room. with
a restful calm brooding over him. He was
weak and weary, his bandaged head
throbbed if he did but move. there was but
a confused memory of a shadowy Nemesis
that had been pursuing him and it was
good to lie still and doze.
A woman tiptoed in and out who had the
comforting touch of a mother. Sometimes
a man creaked up to the bedside, looked in
tently at him, and creaked away again.
Also. rare intervals. there was a third
persona girl who took good care to show
him no more than the side of her face-a
profile that it had pleased him to study.
At last the man was strong again and
there apparently need of prolong-
ing his visit, but there was no place for
him to go, and also, he desired to stay.
Which desire Simpson, from beneath his
bushy brOws, was quick enough to perceive
and encourage There was plenty of work
about the place-more than he could do
alone. for he was no longer strong-hands
were scarce Perhaps he might care to stay;
this is what Simpson suggested, to which
the mother and daughter looked a timid
approval, the daughter raising her eyes
with a sweet. friendly smile that suddenly
swept away the doubts that had been gath
ering in the mans mind
Thus it was that Mark Danvers took w
the reins, instead of the throttle, and drove
steeds of flesh rather than those OF steel
He helped to lay by the corn, followed be-
hind the breaking plow and watched the
long ribbons of sod ripple from the pillow
point; attended upon the clacking binder
building UP a matched village of wheat
shocks; pitched the perfumed hay, and sc
long he busy he happy
At other times the thing called memory
suddenly reappeared and cracked its whip
at his heels. Whenever this happened there
was such desperation in his eyes that the
girl saw it and straightway guessed thai
there was story-guessed that he was
fugitive, and yet trusted him. for there wa:
guilt. crafty deceit-nothing but fear
written upon his brow. sympathy is the
royal road to love. With a woman it is
also the beginning of curiosity. And Sc
the girl decided that the story should bt
told. and having SO decided, bit by bit, aft
er the artlessly artful manner of her kind
she proceeded to beguile il from him.
For what man of us can refuse what
woman demands, In the name OF compass
sion. 10 know?
Mark Danvers had been a rough, way
ward fellow, with jest ever upon hi:
lips and an oath at its heels, but with
dominant passion that kept him from go
Ing very far to the bad-the love Of hi!
engine
The glad thing of life that quivered at hi.
touch like proud hlly!
1t had been the dream OF his young life
TO drive locomotive. His star of hope-th'
headlight of the engine that was 10 be hi'
had never set.
BY and by he ceased to see this headlight
In the perspective. 1t became a reality, anC
he climbed up and rode behind 1t. 1t wa:
something to be the youngest enginemaI
on the road. 1t was also something Il
pull the Pioneer Limited"
1t was hell TO put the Pioneer Limited
in the ditch, and that was what Mark haC
done.
The dazzle of another headlight swinging
around sharp curve-a swift grasp of {
were the things he remembered.
The rest was whirling chaos until h,
found himself numbering at the door Of
the nearest signal tower and pleading fol
Gods sake. to get special to the wreck
into his brain, and he ran on and on-anC
that was all. As 10 the wreck, he haC
never heard the particulars.
No doubt IL was bad enough; they AWAY,
are, but such as ii was he had not caused
it. Some one had Numbered, true. but no
him. Sure, the Pioneer" had the RICH
of way over everything. and the other fel
low had no business on the track. anC
there wasn't anything there TO trouble him
The thing that tweaked his heartstring
mus 'h have edR@mitted the unpardonabe
done just what he had sworn he neve
should dO-jumped from his engine-left he
To udSn ike TlQeIASSS StSSu III
abyss of fire.
III this were not so. how came IL that h
had escaped with nothing but knock oil
his forehead?
AT first the girl had attempted 10 hold VI
10 him the futility of such a sacrifice. Tn
right TO save his own life, surely tina
could not be denied him.
To Mark there appeared no such priv
lege- 1t was the duty OF an engineman 4
stick with his engine 10 the last The com
pany paid him 10 defend the train-with hi
life. If necessary
To desert his engine in the face OF DANCE
meant 10 him what il means 10 a soldie
To desert In the face OF the enemy TIL
penalty OF the one-the sharp crackle O
the firing squad-a merciful death.
OF the other. the drumming out of caml
OF the ''quitter'-an unmercifuI Twins
death.
How infinitely he would have preferred I,
have gone into the wreck with his hans
upon the lever-faithful unto death-faith
ful even In death.
At this she had stood up and looked a
him with an unwavering faith burning il
her eyes. You did not do IT," she cried
mo one shall make me believe that yo,
were such coward. Isn't there some wa-
10 prove it-some one who knows III,
TRUTH"
Mark admitted that there was Bill,
Fobes. his fireman, would tell, IL he WASH
SEad Rillv Was his friend roo pa, NJ,