The Montgomery tribune. (Montgomery City, Mo.) 1892-1910, 1906-06-22

few steps away, waiting. A little wind
sprang up among the higher trees, the
moments passed, and stin the great
figure stood transfixed In Its curious
silence. The feathers ereaked as the
horse turned. The messenger, with en-
air of surveying the canyon, stole an
anxious glance ut the old face. The
sorrowful old eyes we're fixed on things
that were not; they looked vaguely a.
II in search.
"Dan'l!" he said.
It was not a cry; there was nothing
plaintive in 1t. 1t was only the old
man. calling his son; David calling
upon Absalom. Then there was a
change. He zane sternly forward.
who killed my boy?"
Nobody, Uncle Peter; twas a strclc.
He was goin' over the line, and they'd
laid out at Kaslo fer a day SOS Danl
j. could gee about a spur the Lucky
Cuss' people w%anted-and maybe it
was the climbin' brought it on"
The old mar looked his years. AS
he came nearer Billy Brue saw tears
tremble in his eyes and roll unnoted
down his cheeks. Yet his voice was
unbroken and he was, indeed, uncon-
scious of the tears.
II was afraid of that. He lived too
high. He ct too much and he drank
too much and was too soft-was Dan'l
too soft"
The old voice trembled a bit and
he stopped to look aside into the little
pocket he had been exploring. Billy
Brue looked back down the canyon,
where the swift stream brawled itseif
into white foam far below.
'"He wouldn't use his legs; I prodded
him about it constant"
He stoppeu again to brace himself
against the shock. Billy Brue still
looked away.
II told him high attitudes and high
Twin would do any man" Again he
was silent.
but all he'd ever say was that
times had changed since my day, and
I wasn't to mind him."
He had himself better In hand now.
why l nursed that boy when he
was a dear, funny little red baby with
big round eyes rollin' around to take
notice; he took notice awful quick
fur a baby. Oh, my: Oh, dear! Dan'l!"
Again he stopped.
And 1t don't seem more'n yester-
day that I was a-teachin' him to throw
the diamond hitch; he could throw
the diamond hitch with his eyes shut
Il reckon by the time he was nine or
ten. He had his faults, but they didn't
hurt him none; Dan'l J. was a man,
now" He halted once more.
: 1.-THE dead millionaire" began Billy
Brue, reading from the obituary in the
Skiplap Weekly Ledge, was in his
ffty-second year. Genial, generous to
a fault, quick to resent a wrong, but
unfailing in his loyalty to a friend, a
man of large ideas, with a genius for
large operations, he was the type of
indefatigable enterprise that has build
ed this western empire in a wilderness
and given rich sustenance and luxur.
ious homes to millions Of prosperous,
happy American citizens. Peace to his
ashes! And a safe trip to his immop
tai soul over the one-way trail!"
Eyes, yes-it's Dan'l ]. fur sure
they got my boy Danl that time. Is
that all 1t says, Billy? Anyone with
him?"
why, this here dispatch is signed
by young Toler-that's his confidential
man."
Nobody else?"
The old man was peering at him
sharply from under the gray protrud-
ing brows.
"Well, If you must know, Uncle
Peter, this is what the notice says that
come by wire to the Ledge Office" and
he read doggedly:
1.-THE young and beautiful Mrs. Bines,
who had been accompanying her husband
on his trip of inspection over the Sierra
Northern, Is Frustrated with grief at the
shock of his sudden DEATH"
The old man became for the first
{ time conscious Of the tears in his eyes,
and, pulling down one Of the blue
: wooden shirt sleeves, wiped his wet
cheeks. The slow, painful blush Of age
, crept up across the iron strength OF
his face, and passed. He looked away
/ as he spoke.
II knew 1t; I knew that. My DAM
was like all that Frisco bunch. They
[ get tangled with women sooner OF
, later. / taxed Danl with it. l spleened
against 1t and let him know it. But
he was a man and his own master-it
you can rightly call a man his own
master that does them things. Do you
, know what-fur woman this one was,
I Billy?"
/. well, last time Dan'l ]. was up to
Skiplap, there was a swell party on the
!, car-kind of a coppery-lookin' blonde.
Allie Ash, the brakeman on No. 4, he
tells me she used to be in Spokane,
and now she'd got her hooks on to
some mimi property up in the Occur
!, d'Alene. Course, this mightn't be the