The watchman and southron. [volume] (Sumter, S.C.) 1881-1930, 1906-08-08


you mustn't let him know that His
worship of you positively irradiates his
face and he's very handsome. He in
sists that you were heroic"
Ann grew little petulant. II wish
YOU wouldn't try to make mountains
out of molehills. It was most un-
pleasant experience, and wish to for
get it, not to have it dinned in my ears
forever. My going was folly, and my
stay in that CHASTITY place was tor
ment. Please allow me to put it out of
my memory
Ann had moment of bitter home
sickness, a feeling she had never known
before. This mad trip into the west
with reckless and supersensit1ye boy
grew each moment more disastrous. At
the moment she fairly hated her cous-
ins and all the guests at their table and
longed, with unspeakable hunger, For
the roll Of carriages on Fifth avenue
and the glitter and tumult Of Broad
way. The stony, uninterested stare Of
her mother was better than this pry-
ing, this overstrained interest on the
part of Jeanette.
AS for Raymond, he had been mo-
mentarily interesting as cowboy, and
when he was lying at the brink Of the
grave he had assumed tragic value, but
now that he was on the way to recov-
cry he ceased to interest. "He is mere
ly one Of the thousands Of other COM
monplace young eastern men who have
tried their fortunes in the west and
failed" she said. 3'Why should I be
burdened with any further care Of
him?"
At dinner Don told again for the for
tieth time the story Of Raymond's
shooting and in spite Of AIMS protests
put her in as the heroine, which reinfu-
rated her almost to the point Of leav-
ing the table The "Ah'sp' and Dear
mes" and 'tBy Jove's" volleying from
the listeners were quite insupportable.
One lady said, Poor fellowv'
'sNot at ALL" said DR.. Braide. "He
was a lucky dog. I'd be shot any day
to get suct a nurse"
| Jeanette saw the angry flush on
AIMS face and hastily turned the con-
versation into less personal channels.
Thus every influence swept her to-
ward dislike Of the wounded mans
very name, and thereafter she ignored
bis presence in the house, his being in
the world, as though he did not exist.
She neither asked after his health nor
replied to any report or question made
by her brother concerning him.
Louis brought to Raymond one day
small limp book in red leather, which
he proffered with the air Of giving a
gem.
"what,s this?" asked Raymond.
'Your diary?"
"No; my fathers. He was out here
before I was born, when the Indians
were here"
Raymond opened the volume With
ianguid interest. but soon realized that
be was looking into the past through
! the eyes OF & poet Part Of it was Writ
ter in ink very iegibly-. but in Gne
! rnnning hand, while other CT tie 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 slender, smil-
ing, handsome young fellow in SOM
brero and hunting clothes had been
pasted.
AHe enjoyed his new hat, didn't heY
said Raymond, to whom the essential
incongruity of the refined face and bor-
der ruhan toggery first appealed.
You're the image Of your father?" he
added, looking keenly at the boy. "Fe
don't look much older in this picture,
taken at Sylvanite Well, Sylvanite was
wild town in those days. Is there
much about it in the book?'
Ten pages. He wrote a page OF
fne script every day, but l don't care
SO NuCN lOE ludC-tuSSS llOSo,
and the big canyons, and crossing the
rivers, and the Indians-he saw lots of
Indians-the Utes-these are what in
terest me-
Raymond became profoundly inter
ested in this book There was an ap-
peal in the closing entry which touched
him profoundly The entry was head
ed The Last View and closed with
these words: Il love my home and my
friends in the east, but this primeval
world has laid its spell upon me. l
shall come again next year
Did he come again?" asked Ray
mond.
NO" answered Louis sadly. And
it was soon evident to Raymond that
the lad knew very little Of his father
beyond the message in the worn little
book.
Leave this with me, Louis. I want