The Miller sun. (Miller, Hand County, S.D.) 190?-19??, 1907-06-01
:, meet Miss Duncan. and put my fate in

duty by my faithful little friend, and
provide for Psyche's future happiness be-
fore considered my own. 1 must wiring
a confession of the mysterious crime froE
my grandfather. and find the girls fan,
lily. / had promised not to abandon hsf,
but without that promise my heart wo'id
never have suffered me to go away from
her, as she pathetically put it, until l
lad found those who had a right to take
my place as her guardian and dearest
friend. If Sir Henry Duncan thought
fit to question my grandfather about the
fortune | had acquired, the old rascal,
discovering my escape, would, to avois
unpleasant consequences to himself, get
out of the way before | could draw
confession from him.
/ reflected also that Mrs. Benham or
the telegraph 10y might spread the new,
o. my return in BOnport, and that this
would speedily reach Old Peters ears and
put both the old rascals on the alert.
However, there was one simple way OF
securing my grandfather, and that was
to forestall others by tackling him at tho
very earliest hour. With the determine
ton to go over to the Halfway House
as soon as it got light l returned to the
cottage and lay down without taking of
my clothes, chat | might not Oversleep
myself. Nevertheless. it was broad day
light when / awoke, and then it was
only Psyche's cry of delight from the
next room that aroused me. the canary
was singing.
"Hark the little caw!" she cried.
L. II nNl
her, and slipped noiselessly out of the
house, fearing my going would trouble
her if she knew it.
Looking down to the shore from the
cliff at Deadmans Point l saw the waves
bursting over the scattered rocks where
we had risen from our burrow the day
before. The great blocks were so closely
thrown together that it was impossible
to distinguish the exact spot, and |
knew that by this time the sea had wash
ed in the sand and effaced all sign of our
work. 1t seemed to me now hardly pos
sible that we two could have been lying
toiling under that fallen cliff for more
than four months. Something unpleas-
antly akin to a thirst for vengeance pos
sessed me as | neared the Halfway
House and thought of the old villains
who had doomed me to perpetual impris-
onment there and who had robbed poor
Psyche of all that makes youth and life
worth having.
Turning the handle softly, found that
the door was locked. The blinds were
drawn down. Over the window pane |
had broken to get into the place on the
day of my capture a sheet of brown paper
had been pasted. l wetted my fingers,
struck it in the middle, and made a hole
through the brown paper without 1oise.
My grandfather was stumping about in
the wash house, for this was about the
hour when he sent down our breakfast.
Taking advantage of the noise he made,
| tore down the brown paper, slipped
my arm through, and unfastened the
catch. Tho next minute l had the sash
up, and the minute after that l was
standing in The little parlor.
The wash house door was closed. l
opened the door silently and found my
grandfather in front of me, leaning over
the well with the cord in his hand. For
just one moment my fingers itched to slip
that cord round his neck and pitch him
down the well.
Cant make the beggars out" he NUT
tered; "in genial they comes fast enough
for their grub, and it's a lucky day when
that gallus Bernard don't holler out for
extrys.' He left off muttering and re-
commenced whistling and jerking the
cord.
whats the marrer wi you? are you
hill?" he roared. After waiting q min
ute or two he drew up the bucket to see
il it had been emptied. When it came
up full he set it on the edge of the we'll
and scratched his head
IF one on ems dead ~ he murmured:
and then, looking round in the scared
way Of those whose consciences are i'll at
ease, he caught sight of me standing
within couple of PAGES of him. His
Jaw dropped, his face turned gray. his
eyes started from their sockets, and he
staggered back to the wall, stretching
cut his qaivering hands to keep me off.
His old jaw closed and fell as he at
tempted TO speak, and his breath caught
in his parched windpipe with a click at
each respiration. Xr length he gaspad
out:
Heaven forgive me il l ever done you
harm Lord knows I've alust done for
the best, according to my lights 'Twasnt
me as put you down. Fathers got to
answer for all that-.a gallus, wicked
old man. I've supplied We reg'lar-donied
" nothin'-" He broke off with a
choke, terrified out of his wits by my
silence and immobility. Then he gasped
again, loosening his neckcloth with one
hand and motioning me back with the
other:
For heavens sake, speak! Tell me
you're not his ghost-tell me l haven't
murdered my Sukey's boy
(To be continued)