Pullman herald. [volume] (Pullman, W.T. [Wash.]) 1888-1989, 1906-07-07

t~iveness to sun and hest-the Reverend
Meekin tripped daintily to the %postofice
and deposited his letter. Two ladies me
him as he turned.
Mr.. Meekin's elegant hat was raised
from his intellectual brow and hovereC
in the air, like some courteous blackbird
for an Instant. Mrs. Jellicoe! Mrs
Protherick! My dear leddies, this IL
an unexpected pleasure! And where
pray, are you going on this lovely after
noon7 To stay in the house is positive
ly sinful. All! what a climate; but the
trail of the serpent, my dear Mrs. Proth
erick-the trail of the serpent And
he sighed.
why, you are gcing our way" said
Mrs. Jellicoe. 1--WE can walk together
Delighted! l am going to call on
Major Vickers."
And l live within a stones throw
returned Mrs. Protherick. what o
charming little creature-his daughter,
A sad thing. Quite a romance If 1t were
not so had, you know. His wife, poor
Mrs. Vickersp'
Indeed! What of herr" asked Meek
In, bestowing a condescending bow on a
passer-by. sis she an invalidT"
"She Is dead, poor soul, returned jolly
Mrs. J%ellicoe, with a fat sigh. you
don't mean to say that you haven't
heard the story, MI. MeekinT'
MY dear leddies, l have only been In
Hobart Town a week, and l have not
heard the story"
"It's about the mutiny, you know, the
| mutiny at Macquarie Harbor. The pris-
| Naor. Aonlr fhA ahtn md nnf Mira NipE-
ers and Sylvia ashore somewhere. Cap
tain Frere was with them, too. The
poor things had a dreadful time, and
nearly died. Captain Frere made a boat
Mt last, and they were picked up by a
ship. Poor Mrs. Vickers only lived a
few hours, and little Sylvia-she was
only twelve years old then-was quite
lightheaded. They thought she wouldn't
recover She's quite strong now; but her
memory's gone. She doesn't remember
anything about the three or four weeks
they were ashore-at least not distinct
ly."
ITS a great mercy" interrupted Mrs.
Protherick, determined to keep the post
of honor. "Who wants her to remem-
Der these horrors? From Captain Frere's
account, 1t was positively awful. A
'bolter'-that's what we call an escaped
prisoner, Mr.. Meekin-happened to be
left behind, and he found them out, and
insisted on sharing the provisions-the
wretch! Captain Frere was obliged to
watch him constantly for fear he should
murder them. Even in the boat he tried
to run them out to sea and escape. He
was one of the worst men In the Harbor,
D. .IA,,II has No NJ ;v,
Frere tell the story"
"And where is he now?" asked Mr..
Meekin, with interest.
Captain Frere?'
mo, the prisoner"
ooh, goodness, l don't know-at Port
Arthur, l think. l know that he was
tried for boiling, and would have been
hanged but for Captain Frere's exer-
tons"
Dear, dear! a strange story, indeed"
said Mr.. Meekin. And so the young
lady doesn't know anything about itY'
'Only what she's been told, of course,
poor dear. She's engaged to Captain
Frere."
Really TO the man who saved her.
How charming-quite a romance! Her
girlish love clings to her heroic protec-
tor. Remarkable and beautiful. Quite
the-hem!-the ivy and oak, dear led
dies. All, in our fallen nature, what
sweet spots l think this is the
gate"
A smart convict servant-he had been
a pickpocket of note In days gone by
left the clergyman to repose In a hand
somely furnished drawing room, whose
sun blinds revealed a wealth of bright
garden fecked with shadows, while he
went In search of Miss Vickers. The
major was out, his duties as superin-
tendent of convicts rendering such alb
sences necessary; but Miss Vickers was
in the garden, and could be called In at
once. The Reverend Meekin, wiping
his heated brow, and pulling down his
spotless wristbands, laid himself back
on the soft sofa, soothed by the elegant
surroundings no less than by the cool
ness of the atmosphere. He was dis
turbed by the sound of voices In the gar,
den: and going outside saw a young
| girl talking to one of the servants. She
turned, and Mr.. Meekin, bowling his
apologies, became conscious that the
young lady was about seventeen years OF
age, that her eyes were large and soft
her hair plentiful and bright, and thai
the hand which held the little book she
had been reading was white and small.
Miss Vickers, l think. My name /.
Meekin-the Rev. Arthur Meekin."
How do you do. Mr.. Meekin? p sale
Sylvia, putting out one of her small
hands, and looking straight at him
Papa will be In directly"
His daughter more than compensate.
for his absence, my lear Miss Vickers.'
II don't like fattery, Mr.. Meekin, Sc
don't use it. At least" she added. will
a delicious ~frankness that seemed borI
Of her very brightness and beauty, "no'
that sort of fattery. Young girls d,
like fattery, of course. Don't you thinl
soT'
This rapid attack quite d~isconcertec
Mr.. Meekin. and he could only bow anC
smile at the self-possessed young lady.
You have not been here long, Mr.
Meekin." said Sylvia, after a pause.
mo, only a week; and l confess l an
surprised. A lovely climate, but, as
said just now TO Mrs. Jellicoe, the trai
of the serpent-the trail of the SERPENT