The Kennewick courier. [volume] (Kennewick, Wash.) 1905-1914, 1906-06-22
Tor The Term of His Natural Life
BY MARCUS CLARKE
CHAPTER XIv.-(Continued.A

CHAPTER XIV.-(Continued
Iurn my face to 1t once more" he
whispered; and as they raised him, he
inclined his ear to listen. "It's calm
enough here, God bless It," he said; "but
can hear the waves a-breaking hard
upon tho BARI
As Frere relieved Mrs. Vickers from
the weight of the corpse. Sylvia ran
to her mother. ooh, mamma, mammal
she cried, why did God let him die
when We wanted him so much?'
Before it grew dark. Frere made shift
to carry the body to the shelter of some
rocks at q little distance, and, spread
ing tho jacket over the face, he piled
stones upon it to keep it steady. The
march Of events had been so rapid that
he scarcely realized that since the pre-
vious evening two of the FIVE human crea-
lures left in this wilderness had escaped
from it. AS he did realize it, he began
to wonder whose turn it would be next.
The following day passed gloomily. 1t
was hot and sultry, and a dull haze
hung over the mountains. Frere spent
the morning In scooping a grave In the
sand, in which to inter poor Bates.
Practically awake to his own necessities,
he removed such portions of clothing
from the body as would be useful to him,
but hid them under q stone, not liking
to let Mrs. Vickers see what he had
done. Having completed the grave by
midday, he placed the corpse therein,
and rolled as many stones as possible to
the sides of the mound. In the after
noon he cast the fishing line from the
point Of 4 rock he had marked the day
before, but caught nothing. Passing by
the grave, On his return, he noticed that
Mrs. Vickers had placed at the head
Sf it 4 rude cross, formed by tying two
pieces Of stick together. After supper
!the usual salt meat ald damper-he
tried to talk to Sylvia. "Why won't
you be friends with me, missy" he
asked.
Il don't like you," said Sylvia. "You
brighten me. You are not kind. don't
mean that you do cruel things, but you
are Oh, wish papa was here"
Wishing won't bring him." says
Frere.
There! That's what mean! Is
that kind? Wishing won't bring him!
Oh, If it only would"
UlUu ucdu IL uukluUly, Sdyb
Frere. what 4 strange child you are!"
'Thero are persons" says Sylvia,
'who have no affinity for each other.
read about it in a book papa had, and
suppose that's what 1t is. 1 have no
affinity for you. can't help it, can I?'
Rubbish" Frere returned. "Come
here, and I'll tell you a story"
Mrs. Vickers had gone back to her
cave, and the two were alone by the
fire, near which stood the kettle and the
newly made damper. The child, with
some show Of hesitation, came to him
and he caught and placed her on his
knee. The moon had not yet risen, and
the shadows cast by the Pickering fire
seemed weird and monstrous. The wick
ed wish to brighten this helpless crea-
ture came to Maurice Frere.
''There was once" said he, "a castle
In an old wood, and in this castle there
lived an ogre, with great google eyes"
you silly man!' said Sylvia, strug-
Cling to be free. "You are trying to
brighten me-"
And this ogre lived on the bones of
little girls. One day a little girl was
travelling the wood, and she heard the
"Mr. Frere, let me down.
"She was terribly frightened, and she
ran, and ran, and ran, until all of a
sudden she saw"
A piercing scream burst from his COM
ponion. ooh! oh! What's that?" she
cried, and chung to her prosecutor.
On the other side of the fire stood the
figure of man. He staggered forward,
and then, falling on his knees, stretched
out his hands. and hoarsely articulated
one word-"Food!' 1t was Rufus
Dawes.
The sound of human voice broke the
spell of terror that was on the child,
and as the glow from the fire fell upon
the tattered yellow garments, she guess
ed at once the whole story. Not 80 Maui
rice Frere. He saw before him a new
danger, q new mouth to share the scanty
provision, and snatching a brand from
the fire, he kept the convict at bay. But
Rufus Dawes, glaring round with wolfish
eyes, caught sight of the damper resting
against the iron kettle, and made q
clutch at it. Frere dashed the brand in
his face "Stand back" he cried. 1--WE
have no food to spare"
The convict uttered a savage cry, and
raising the iron CAD, plunged forward
desperately to attack his new enemy
but. quick as thought, the child glided
past Frere and snatching the loaf, pra.-
ed it in the hands of the starving man
with, Here, poor prisoner, eat!' and
then, turning to Frere, she cast upon
him a glance so full of horror, indigna.
ton and surprise that the man blushed
and threw down the brand.
As for Rufus Dawes, the sudden ap
partition of the golden-haired girl seemed
to have transformed him. Allowing the
loaf to slip Though his fingers, he gazed
with haggard eyes, at the retreating fig
ure of the child, and as it vanished into
the darkness outside the circle of the
freight, the unhappy man sank his face
upon his blackened, horny hands, anG
burst into tears.
CHAPTER XIV.
The coarse tones of Maurice Frere
reused him. "What do you wantw he
asked.
Rufus Dawes, raising his head, con
templated the figure before him. and rec
opnized it. els it yOu?" he said, SLOWLY