Courier Democrat. (Langdon, N.D.) 1891-1920, 1907-11-28

MS knees. He had taken the dead
Italians roam, which had been led
rlderless to the farm and was thus
comparatively fresh. 1t was a great
gaunt brute, with a mouth like leather.
as Tom had discovered to his cost in
the skirmish. Once through the gate,
however, he felt that no more: the
beast had run away without his know
ing it.
Indeed he knew very little for the
nrst few minutes except that the moon
was setting at his back and he was
once more heading for the sea. This
ne gathered from the grotesque shadow
ieaplng along between the roan's ears.
his hrst conscious effort was to keep
tnat shadow dead ahead. Now he lost
IL where the timber thickened, now he
found it in an open glade. At length
the ado failed and vanished, and it
was very dark indeed, but on went the
roam With Tom on it's withers to avoid
invisible boughs, and when the sky
lghtened he could have shouted for
JOY, for the roan's ears took shape
against it's lightest point.
He did not shout because his Dlrsuers
would have heard him, for all this time
he had heard them at intervals, and
whenever the ground changed from
hard to soft their hoofs rang out the
instant the roan's We're muflled.
The JOY of that wild ride through the
gum trees to the sea! He forgot the
little value he had set upon his life and
rode for 1T now as men ride for moth
Ing else. Yet he rocked but little of the
result. He knew no fears and no re-
grets, but instead an eXhilaration such
as he had never known before. 1t
might be his last hour. He reveled in
1t the more-was the more grateful for
lt-on that account. To have tasted
such life as this at life's end! To die
after this with 40 more pain! To reach
the sweet sea and swim out to rest!
And now he smelt 1T. The rushing
air was spiced with salt. Even in the
pungent forest he detected it through
all the odors and was mistaken in that
no more. Only one question remained
In his mind. Would the roam hold out?
Wouiu the roam mold out!
Long ago the pace had slackened.
Long ago Tom had stopped and ripped
his big boots down to the ankles and
cast them from him with all else that
had been the Italians. He was now
riding a light ten stone in his shirt
and trousers. His bare feet were
numb from standing in the stirrups
to ease the roam. But the trees had
been rushing past in myriads half the
night, and still they stood against the
morning skyline, like blots of ink Upon
a slate, in myriads more.
On the other hand, he had heard
nothing of his pursuers for some time
and was beginning to wonder whether
they had given up the chase. Their
horses might we'll have started less
fresh than his. Had they given it I'D
or had they not?
Tom had asked himself the question
for the twentieth time when some
thing happened, and he had his an
sWer sitting stupidity on the ground.
The roam was disappearing amid the
trees, with the saddle beneath it's belly.
Its startled gallop died away like the
roll Of a drum. But heavier hoofs were
coming up behind.
Tom sprang up, but sat down again
with a yelp of pain. His ankle was
badly spfained. He felt for q weapon,
but he had thrown them all away.
Even his knife he seemed to have hurl-
ed after the long boots OF left in a
pocket of the blue jacket, which had
been jettisoned in it's turn.
He sat still and groaned. To have
to surrender sitting still! What an
end to his ride! What a beginning Of
the end of all!
The heavy hoofs came nearer, near
er. Three troopers labored into view,
gave a yell and put spurs to their tired
horses. but ceased to spur them when
they saw their man.
"Why, who are your" cried they.
'The man you want"
g" wish you We're. You're all we
shall get with these horses. But you
must have heard him pass"
A light broke over Tom. He said he
had heard it, but some time since,
when it was darker and he was half
asleep.
"And what made you think you were
our MANI" asked another trooper sus-
piciously.
"I-l-Tm a runaway convict"
"Then you're better than nothing"
cried the former speaker. you'll come
with us. But the man we've lost is an
Italian, and there's precious little Of
the italian about you"
There was less than little. He had
thrown everything away, but without
a thought of saving his neck by so do
ing. Nor indeed had he saved it yet.
CHAPTER XXI.
"HE stockade smoldered in the
midst of a hard baked plain
that vas as brown as shoe