The Plymouth tribune. (Plymouth, Ind.) 1901-1911, 1905-05-18
SILVER SPUR

give me tiny pistols and thy cloak"
She stepped to the window hole at the
end Of the kitchen, and looked out.
Plenty Of time" she said, and pointed
to the ladder leading to the loft above
climb up there, the both, and pull
the ladder after. Is it thou they want
or she?' pointing to Della.
Me chiefly they would catch, no doubt
being man." answered.
"Aye-being a man; the worlds full
OF folly. Then, Jack, do thou look after
her, and I'll look after thee"
She flung my cloak about her, took my
pistols and went out at the door. As
she did so the sun sank and dull shad-
ow swept over the moor.
"Joanv / cried, for now 1 guessed
her purpose and was following to hinder
her, but she had caught Molly's bride
and was already astride of her.
Get back" she called softly. and then,
Il make better lad than wench, Jack"
leaped the mare through a gap In the
wall, and in moment was breasting the
hill and galloping for the high road.
What think you Of this for a hiding
placer" asked I. with laugh.
But Della did not laugh. Instead, she
faced me with blazing eyes, checked her
self and answered, cold as ice:
"Sir, you have done me q many Ia
vors. How I have trusted you in return
it were best for you to remember, and
for me to forget"
The dark then drew on, and still we
sat there, hour after hour, silent, angry.
waiting for Joan's return, Della at the
entrance Of the cottage, chin on hand,
"a
turning toward me; I further inside, with
my arms crossed, raging against myself
and all the world, yet with a sick'ning
dread that Jean would never come back.
She came at last, leading Molly by the
bride. Della slipped away as she tot
tered into the hut.
Jack" said Joan, "sit down an let
me rest my head ON thy knee. Oh.
yes, did it bravely. Eight good miles
an more took the mare-by the Four
hold Cross, an across the moor past
Tober an Catshole, an over Brown
Willy. an round Roughtor to the nor
west; an there lies the bravest quag-
oh, a black, bottomless hole-an' into it
led them; an there they lie, every
horse, an every mothers son. till Judg-
ment Day."
"Deadw
"Aye-an' the last twain wi bullet
apiece in their skulls. Oh, rare! Dear
heart-hold my head-so, atween thy
hands,"
But Joan, ere these men dead, say
your
Surely, yes. Why, lad, what be four
rebels, up or down, to make this coal
Cd off
"Joan-you are not hurt"
In the darkness sought her eyes, and,
peering into them, drew back.
joan"
"Hush, lad. bend down thy head, and
let me whisper. I went too near-an'
one, that was over his knees, let fly wi
his musician Jack, have but a min
ute or two. Hush, lad, hush-there's no
call. loved thee so, boy Jackw
Her arms were drawing down my face
to her, her eyes were dull with pain.
Feel, Jack-there-over my right
breast. 1 plugged the wound WI peat
turf. Pull it out, for it's bleeding inward
and hurts cruelly-pull it outv'
AS / hesitated she thrust her cvn
hand in and drew it forth, leaving the hot
blood to gush.
AN now, Jack, tighter-hold me
tighter. Kiss me-oh, what brave times.
Tighter, lad, an call WI me-'Church
an Kingp Call, lad-Church an"
The warm arms loosened, the head
sank back upon my lap.
1 looked up. There was a shadow
across the entrance, blotting out the star
Of night Twas Della. leaning there and
listening.