Wausau pilot. [volume] (Wausau, Wis.) 1896-1940, 1905-06-27
s<1E
CHAPTER xXIu.-fCont;nuedl

OhA1 l. En- AAll1.-tGOnt1nue0
He rode back quietly along the track.
over which he had chased the Carriers
cart; and his foot was now in such an
Kuish, that the whole of his wonderful
self-command was needed to keep him
silent He set his hard lips, and his rigid
nose was drawn as pale as parchment,
and the fire of his eyes died into the dull
ness of universal rancor. No hard-heart-
ed man can find his Joy in the sweet soft
works of Nature, any more than the
naked flint nurses flowers. The beauty
Of the young May twilight flowing
through the woven wood. and harboring,
like blue bloom, here and there, in bays
OF verdure; while upward all the great
trees reared their domes once more in
summer roofage, and stopped out the
heavens; while in among them, finding
refuge, birds filed the world with mel
ody, and all the hushing rustic of the
well-earned night was settling down
through all of these rode Mr.. Sharp,
and hated every one of them.
PRESENTLY his horse gave little turn
OF the head, but was too cowed down to
shy again; and tall woman darkly clad
was standing by the timber track with
one hand up to catch his eyes
You here, Cinnamintaw cried the law
yer with surprise. II have no time now.
what do you want with mep'
Il want you to see the work of your
hand-your only child, dead by your own
blow"
Struck with cold horror, he could not
speak. But he reeled in the saddle, with
his hand on his heart, and stared at Gin
naminta.
1T is true" she said softly; come
here and see it. Even for you, Luke
Sharp, / never could have wished a sight
like this. You have ruined my life; you
have made my people thieves; the loss of
my children lies on you. But to see your
only son murdered by yourself is too bad
even for suclI as you"
Il never meant i'll never meant it
God is my witness that 1 never did.
thought his head was a great deal thick
err"
Sneerer as he was, he meant no jest
now. He simply spoke the earnest truth.
In his passion he had struck men before,
and knocked them down, with NO great
harm; he forgot his own fury In this
one blow, and the weight of his heavily
loaded whip. Then he touched his horse
gently, having had too much of rage, and
allowed him to take his own choice of
way.
' The rising of the moon, to assuage the
earth of all the long sun fever, the
spread of dewy light, and quivering Of
the nerves of shadow, and then the soft,
unteatured beauty of the dim tranquil
lily, coming over Luke Sharp's road, or
Hitting on his face, what difference could
they make to its white despair? He
hated light, he loathed the shade, he
scorned the meekness of the dapple, and
he cursed the darkness
Out of sight of the road, and yet with
in level course of it, there lay to his
knowledge a deep and quiet and seldom
Travelled forest pool. This had long been
in his mind, and coming to the footpath
now, he drew his bride towards it.
10 the verge of this water Luke Sharp
rode, with his horse prepared for any
thing. He swept with his keen eyes all
the length of liquid darkness ebbing into
blackness in the distance. And he spoke
his last wOrds-"This will do
Then he drove his horse into the mar
gin of the pool, till the water was up
to the girths, and the broad beams of
the moon shone over them. Here he drew
both feet from the stirrup irons, and
sat on his saddle sideways, sluicing his
crushed and burning foot, and watching
the water drip from it. And then he
carefully pulled from the holster the pis-
tol that still was loaded, took care that
the flint and the printing were right, and
turning his horse that he might escape,
while the man fell into deep water, stead
tasty gazed at the moon, and laid the
muzzle to his temple, justly, careful that
it should be the temple and the vein
which tailed with that upon which he
had struck his son.
A blaze lit Up the forest pool, and a
roar shook the pail of ivy; heavy splash
added to the treas ures of the deep, and
a little hotilla of white stuff began to
sail about on the black water, in the
commotion made by man and horse.