Pierre weekly free press. (Pierre, S.D.) 1889-19??, 1907-05-16

4 made up her mind to travel about il
future with her husband-to look after
him little, fancy laughed
4 softly as she spoke--"and so came
/ with her"
II saw your mother few hours
/ since" said Philip, watching the cir
intently as he spoke, 'and assured her
that you were with friends and well
/ cared for. When will you return &c
/ herr"
She looked up at him quickly for a
moment with a half-reproachful ex
! preston on her face. when you tell
me to co." she said, slowly.
'No-not when l tell you, child but
| when your own heart tells you.
wouldn't have you think me migrate
full, for the world: | wouldn't have
you think undervalue in any way
! your sacrifice for me, or your valua-
Bile help in my time of greatest need;
I / shall remember it all while God
| gives me memory to remember any
thing. But should be a brute and a
| coward If | took advantage of it-or
| of YOU You are very young, and
| have, | trust, q long and happy life
before you; my life seems to be going
| down in shadows.
More than all else, | want you to
| think that the Dandy Chatter who
fingered with you in the woods, and
whispered foolish things to you, is
! not the Dandy Chatter who holds your
| hands pou and cpoal,c RI vo,, ont IF a
| full and grateful heart. Perhaps-who
can tell, child?--perhaps trouble and
| suffering have altered him-have
made him see many things in better
! light: perhaps he's different man al
together"
She was weeping quietly, with her
head bowed down on the hands he
held; but she did not interrupt him.
"Theres an old mother at home,
waiting to welcome back the pretty
child she brought into the world and
has held so often in her arms; there's
a gray-haired father who loves you;
and there's some one elsa good
hearted lad, with never a stain upon
him-who loves you, too, as you de-
ScING1 W Dc luNcuI 1NOW, WHICH NoCo
your heart tell you you must go back
to them?"
I'll understand she said, almost
I in whisper. I've had time to think
during these few days--and this wild
and foolish heart of mine seems to
beat for thenl-for him-more than it
ever did before should like to go
back to them at once, tomorrow, now
that know you are safe. But win
they understands"
Your mother will understand ev-
erything," said Philip, with smile
For three days Philip Chatter re-
manned with the circus, keeping hid
den during the day and only senturing
out at night. During that time he
had some narrow escapes from recap
ture: once he lay under a tarpaulin,
which had been flung hurrfedly over
him, and heard a constable making
minute inquiries concerning the miss
ing Dandy Chatter, while Captain Pc
ter Quist gave as minute replies.
Realizing, however, that he could not
remain hidden much longer, and being
fully aware OF the risk which was run
so cheerfully by the Captain and those
associated with him, he determined to
get away and to let what risk and
danger there was be upon his own.
shoulders.
He knew we'll, however, that the
captain would never consent to his
departure, and would be mortally Of
Tended at the mere suggestion of such
a thing. Therefore he determined 10
steal away without giving any warn
ing Of his intention. Clara, Siggs, uns
der a safe escort, had gone back to
Bamberton, and the circus was al
ready making arrangements to move
on farther atield.
Accordingly, quite late at night,
when all the people connected with
the circus were sleeping, he started to
make his escape. He had absolutely.
refused to occupy the caravan origi
nally intended for him, because he
know that by SO doing the captain and
Mrs. Quist would be rendered practi-
cally homeless; after much contention
about the matter it had been arranged
that he should sleep in a rough tent
and in the company of the melancholy
one And on this night he lay wide
awake in the darkness, listening tic
the heavy breathing of that gentleman
and striving to make up his mind what
course to pursue when once he should
be clear Of the little encampm ent
Fortunately the melancholy mar
was a heavy sleeper, and Philip was
able to creep past. him and get out OF
the tent, under the stars without rouss
ing him or any one else. Standins5
there, in the silence Of the night, witt.
only those faint points OF light glim8
1nering and winking above him. and am
no sound all about save the distant
barking Of a dog, Philip wondered
what he should do-sayto what point o
the compass he should turn. So IA
AS he knew ne stood absolutely alonss
with all his battles still to fight. Blu
even now, with full knowledge q
the dangers through which he hael
passed and the dangers he had still rs
face, Bamhe ton the scene OF all his y
troubles drew him like a magnet:
The circus had moved Oh, 3 81 me 4 e