Pine Bluff daily graphic., 1906-02-14


 sickness. feeling she had never known before. This mad trip into the west With reckless and supersensitive boy grew each moment more disastrous. At the moment she fairly hated her cous- ms ana all the guests at their table and longed, with unspeakable hunger, for the roll of carriages on Fifth avenue ana the glitter and tumult of Broad way. The stony, unlnterested stare of her mother WAS better than this pry- ing, this overstrained interest on the part of Jeannette.
 AS for Raymond, he had been mo- mentarily interesting as q cowboy. aid when he was lying at the brink of the grave he had assumed tragic value, but now that he was on tiie way to recov- cry he ceased to interest He is mere ly one of tie thousands of other com monpiaee young eastern men who have tried their fortunes in the west and failed, she said. "Why should I be burdened with any further care of him!'
 At dinner Don told again for the for tlcth time the story of Raymond's shooting and in spite of Ann'S protests put her i'll as tine heroine which reinfu- rlated her almost to the point of leav- ing the table. The Ans" and Dear mes. and By Jove.s."' volleying from the listeners were quite insupportable One lady said, "Poor felow,'
 "Not at all." said Dr. Braide. He was d lucky dog. I'd be shot any day to get such nurse.'
 Jeannette saw the angry flush on Ann's face and hastily turned the con versation into less personal channels.
 Thus every influence swept her to- ward a dislike of the wounded mans very name. and thereafter she ignored his presence in the house, his being in the world. as though he did not exist. She neither asked after his health Tor replied to any report or question made by her brother concerning him.
 Louis brought to Raymond one day a small limp book in red leather. which he proffered with the air of giving a gem.
 Whats ths:'' asked Raymond. Your diary:'
 "No: my fathers. He was out here before l was born, when the Indians were here"
 Raymond opened the volume with languid interest, but soon realized that he was looking into the past through the eyes of poet. Part of it was writ ten in ink very legibly, but in hne running hand. while other of the pages were hastily scribbled in pencil and not to be easily deciphered. Plainly the record had been made under great dis advantages and in the field. The inks were of various colors, some watery blue, some dusty black.
 Louis opened the book at the front, wherein the picture of a slender, smil- ing, handsome young fellow in son. brero and hunting clothes had been pasted.
 He enjoyed his new hat, didn't heY said Raymond, to whom the essential ineongruity of the refined face and bor- der rufBan toggery first appealed. You're the image of your fatherT' he added, looking keenly at the boy. "He don't look much older in this picture taken at Syivanite. Well, Sylvanite was q wild town in those days. 10 there much about 1t in the bookT'
 "Ten pages. He wrote . pase of dne script every day, but don't care 60 much for that-these stage rides, and the big canyonsf asd crossing the rivers, and the Indiahs Ehe saw lets of lndfaus-tAe Utes-these, are what h. terest me" .~ Raymosd became profoundly intsr- ssted in thh book. There wes. nj. ;ap- peel in the closing entry which touched him profoundly. 1he .ent1y wee hgaA- cd '.DAe LA6t View. .and closed wlfh thsss westls:'~I lsve ny homo and zny frsends in tke 4ask, b1t ihis pstnsval wefsd hss la,l its apeh :npon rls... ahajl aonps AsAtn saxt yess.s
 "Dsd hs come sSainr -;ss8ed .hAys meod. ;, :.5,'''' .... /:
 .No," a.sv1sd .Los,s sadly.: A1t < w6s seoo evident to Raymona that xhs sad hnew vefy ft1tls st~his father bpyond 1he Eessass in ths WoEn little book.
 "Ilave tl1is w1th nc, Louis. I want te yesd 1t all," he satd. And the boy wGs aeAd Of this interest. ..
 Nys. Deuett came in latee and ask cd, ''what are you readingT
 Ut h . journal Kept by Louis fa- ther. Oid you know hinT
 'eOh, very well! He was my favor- ite uncle"
 "Tell ne of him. Who was he-how did he come to make this tr1pT
 Mrs. Barnett took comfortable seat. "I don't know where Uncle Phil got his streak of sentiment. He was one of six brothers, all successful busi- ness men; keen, practical-you know the kind. But Phil-well. he was the odd sheep-he always seemed boy to me. He worked in the bank, but his mind was on other things. l don't