The Dakota chief. (Gann Valley, Buffalo County, S.D.) 18??-1913, 1907-06-20

why do you wish to kill me?" lifting her
wan face to his.
He bent down, and caught her waist
fercely.
you ask me that?" he said, In voice
of concentrated passion, "you who, with
your long tongue, have put the hangman's
rope around my throat but for you,
would, by this time, have been on ne way
to America, where freedom and wealth
await me. l have worked hard, and COM
mitted crimes for money, and now, when
/ should enjoy it, you, have dragged me
back to the depths"
II did not make you commit the
crimes" she said, piteousy.
Bah " with a scoffing laugh, "whe said
you did? l take my own sins on my own
shoulders; but you did worse; you betray-
ed me. Yes; there is warrant out for my
arrest, for the murder of Pierre, l have
eluded the clever Melbourne police SO far,
but l have lived the life of dog. dare
not even ask for food. lest betray my
self. l am starving tell you, starving!
and It Is your work.
He flung her violently to the ground
and she lay there, huddlei heap of cloth
Ing, while, with wild gestculations, he
went On.
But l will not hang" he said, fiercely;
Octave Braulard, who escaped the gull
lotine, will not perish by a rope No; I
have found a boat going to South America
and tomorrow l go on board of her, to
sail to Valparaiso; but before 20 T. set.
tie with you"
She sprang suddenly to her feet with
look Of hate in her eyes.
You William she said, through her
clenched teeth, ''you ruined my life, but
you shall not murder me-.
He caught her waist again, but he was
weak for want of food and she easily
wrenched it away.
Stand back" she cried, retreatinx q
little.
You think to escape me-" he almost
shrieked, all his smooth cynical mask fall
ling off; mo, you will not will throw
yeu into the river. / will see you sink to
your death. You will cry for help. No
one will hear you. Both of US are merci-
less. You will die like a rat in a hole, and
that face you are so proud of will be
buried in the mud of the river. Your time
has come to die"
He hissed OUT the last word In a low,
sibilant manner, then sprang toward her
TO execute his purpose. They were both
standing on the verge of the steps and in
stinctfvely Kitty put out her hands to
keep him off. She struck him on the chest
and then his foot slipped on the green
slime which covered the steps and with a
cry OF bafied rage he fell backward into
the dull waters with heavy splash. The
swift current gripped him, and before Kit
ty could utter a sound she could see him
rising out in midstream and being carried
rapidly away. He threw up his hands
with hoarse cry for help, but weakened
by famine, he could do nothing for him
self and sank for the second time. Again
he rose. and the current swept him near
shore, almost within reach of a fallen
tree. He made a desperate effort to grasp
it, but the current, mocking his puny eff
forts, bore him away once again in its
giant embrace, and with wild shrek he
sank to rise no more.
The woman on the bank. with white
face and staring eyes, saw the fate which
he had meant for, her meted out to him,
and when she covered her face with her
hands and fed rapidly away into the
shadowy night.
The sun Is setting in the a sea Of blood
and all the west is lurid with crimson
and barred by long black clouds. A heavy
cloud of smoke shot with fiery red hang
ings over the city and the din of many
workings sounds through the air. Down
on the river the ships are floating on the
blood stained waters, and all their masts
stand up like forest of bare trees against
the clear sky. And the river sweeps on red
and angry looking under the sunset, with
the rank grass and vegetation on its shelly
ing banks. Rats are scampering along
among the wet stones, and then vagrant
dog polking about amid some garbage
howls dismally. What is that black speck
on the crimson waters? The trunk of q
tree perhaps. no, it's body, with white
face and tangled auburn hair; it Is float
ing down with the current
People are passing to and fro on the
bridge, the clock strikes in the town hall,
and the dead body. drifts slowly down the
red stream far into the shadows of the
coming highlander the bridge, across
which the crowd is hurrying, bent on
pleasure and business past the tall ware
houses where rich merchants are count
ing their gains, under the shadow of the
big steamers with their tall masts and
smoky tunnels. Now it is caught in the
reeds at the side of the stream: no, the
current carries it out again, and so Down
the foul river, with the hum of the city
on each side and the red sky above, drifts
the dead body on its way to the sea. The
red dies out of the sky, the veil of night
descends, and under the cold starlight
cold and cruel as his own nature-that
which was once CASTOR Vandeloup floats
away into the still shadows.
THE END.