Waterbury evening Democrat., 1907-11-13

clear the air. Say, Dallas" he drawl- ed, with a survey of the battlefield, "he ought t had some red Mexican beans fer his Injuns." But the remark failed to appeal.
 David Bond made a shakedown for himself beside Lancaster's bunk, using an armful of hay and the robes and quilts from his pung. However, the fact that he needed rest or that his couch was ready did not tempt him from the fire. Long after his host dis appeared behind the swinging Navajo blankets he sat by the hearth. And Dallas stayed with him, Marylyn's sleepy head pillowed in her lap.
 The elder girl felt strangely drawn to him. He returned the interest he in- spired. Like Lounsbury, he marked the unusual character of this woman of the far frontier But he saw further than had the younger man. With her father and sister she was all firmness and strength, as if she held herself to be the mainstay of the family, yet now and then unwittingly she betray- ed qualities that were distinctly oppo- site. Like Lounsbury, too, when he touched upon the subject of her life it was to inquire if she had spent any. of its years in town. He felt certain that she had not; at the same time his belief was curiously contradicted by her bearing.
 "I'll always live on the plains," she said, having told him of the mesa and their migration north. If I left 'em for awhile I'd learn things I don't know now, and when I came back maybe wouldn't be satisfied with tho shack or with dad and Marylyn."
 "Child, where did you get that thought?' he asked, astonished.
 "f don't know-only my mother would "a been happy in Texas if she'd been born there. But she wasn't, and she wanted her old home till she died"
 She wanted her old home till she died-it was only sentence, yet the quiet pathos of 1t barred to him the tragedy of that mothers exile.
 "Never a great city, daughter" he advised. Stay here, menaced by h. dians, among rough men and women, with storms and toll besetting you, but never go to a great city. It is close and dirty and paved, and in 1t no man may fill his lungs with pure air or touch his feet to Gods green earth"
 "In cities" questioned Dallas, but in low tone, as if she wished no one to overhear-"in cities do-do the women dress like meT' She raised herself a little. thougA without disturbing Nary lyn, so that he might see her plain, eollarless waist and straight, scant skirt.
 He gave her a smile-a smile as rare and transforming as her own. She had allowed him a glimpse of her sup pressed girlishness. Would that they did. my daughter" he answered.
 "T mean fin cities lIke-lIke-Bis. marck," she said, trifle consciously.
 "Perhaps-some- me see" He was peTplexed. He saw the eager light In her face, saw that for some reason she was striving to compare herself with the women of the settled districts and to learn from him the very things she had feared might bring dlssatisfac- tion with her life. He did not wish to teach discontent. He would not tell an untruth. So he created a diversion by taking up his ulster and searching ln a capaciOus pocket.
 But they-they-don't blow"
 David Bond brought forth limp and battered Bible. "No," he said; mo, they-they don't plow."
 "Ah!T She looked into the fire. Of a sudden two memories had returned one of the passing musicians. with their nudging and insolent smirks: the other of a man who had leaned back In his saddle and Iaughed-after all, perhaps not at her name.
 Fl suppose they're more like Mary lyn-- she faltered
 The evangelist adjusted his silver bowed spectacIes and smiled down at her. -And if they are would it wOrt ry you. dauzhtery
 She shook her head slowly and Iook- ed away
 He turned his hack. So that both Izn- tern and fire light cUGld reach his pazes. and epenfng the book at rzn- don. began to read The chapter done. he tuned ro1nd and glanced at hw again Her face was still ave-1ed
 FTo ha Co-sfuuss1