The Morris County chronicle. [volume] (Morristown, N.J.) 1877-1915, 1907-02-05
CHAPTER XIII.
The Lady's Pistol.

Wright explained at some length that
as the stage manager had now ar
rived, he failed to see any obstacle in
the way of VINEYARD and himself in
dulging in another mornings fishing.
This proposal VINEYARD agreed TO
with his usual readiness, and imme-
diately after the morning meal they
sailed forth together.
According to arrangement, Win
yard went down stream, while the
colonel fished up.
While he fished, VINEYARD Mistley
was actually pondering over the ad-
visibility of abandoning his new pro-
fession. What conclusion he might
have arrived at it were hard to say,
had he been allowed to think the
matter out; but suddenly the new
light shone upon it. A light all lurid
with the hate of man, red with the
CLEAN of aggressive treachery, yet
shining with the glory of steadfast
purpose.
Among the solitary grandeur OF
his native hills, by the side of peace
tined to take place on this fair sum
mer morning which left it's mark on
VINEYARD Mistley's life. 1t was here
that the long pursuit, so steadfastly
carried out by Marie Bakovitch, was
to come to an end. AS will be learned
hereafter, he was fully aware of the
girls purpose, and even knew her
name and description, but had al
ways treated the matter lightly, as
the passing freak of a highly strung
and ignorant girl. Now he was
about to learn his mistake; he was
about to face sudden and unexpect-
ed danger, alone and unaided, as he
had faced most things in his short
life. And the result of it all was to
be the appearance of new ally
against the little god who had laid
his siege so skilfully. Dogged Brit
ish pride joined ambition, determin-
alton and patriotism, and drove their
small enemy shrinking back.
VINEYARD Mistley had made his I'M
eventful way up the stream for about
mile, and was now approaching
spot where the water broadened out,
losing, after the manner of earthly
things, profundity in so doing. Here
were stepping stones and on each
side natural unmade footpath.
Although he was fishing careless
ly, Vineyards eyes were fixed upon
the water, and he therefore failed to
perceive the form of a girl at the
edge of the stream, upon the oppo-
side, and little higher up.
This young lady had apparently
no intention Of making her way
across the stepping stones, being
quite content to stay where she was.
Every now and then she glanced
down stream, as if expecting some
one; and yet when Mistley appeared,
unconsciously and placidly angling,
she appeared surprised and some
what disturbed.
At first she made a movement as
If to draw back; and then, suddenly
stepping forward, she resolutely
planted herself at the waters edge,
with pale, agitated face and culver
ing lips, while her small, ungloved
hand went to the pocket of her dress.
Adonis was some distance behind
his master, engaged in botanical dis
coveries, and therefore oblivious to
all around him. With aggravating
elaboration the fisherman came
slowly on. The water below the
stepping stones was of no use to
! him, so he raised his rod to gather
in the line and pass on. AS he did
so, he lifted his eyes and found him
self face to face with the girl Her
attitude, the paleness of her lovely
face, and the wild excitement gleam-
ing in her eyes, were instantly OBJ
served by VINEYARD, and in flash of
thought he connected her presence
there with himself, and with the
tall artist whose face he remembered
having seen at Victoria Station on
the morning of his arrival in Eng
land.
There was no ignoring the girls
evident excitement; he could not pre-
tend to treat her as villager, and
pass on with local greeting. For
moment the rudy color left his
face; but it was not due to coward
ice, for men grow pale in moments
of excitement who do not know what
fear is Then he raised his cap, but
never smiled or inclined his head.
The girl ignored his salutation,
standing motionless and pale as a
marble staue.
Il am Marie Bakovitch," she said,
simply, the musical tone of her deep
voice rising above the brawl of the
water
II know" he replied. Even in
face of her pale. set features, and
under the gaze of her cold blue eyes,
he could not check the culver of his
tips. He was too chivalrous to let
her see his smile, so he said: you
have caught me at last"
Then, rod in hand, he stepped into
the running water, while Adonis
stood upon the bank with his left ear
raised, watching these proceedings
uneasily. The brook sped past Win
yards legs. ripping and laughing,
while with its voice mingled the MUIR
muir of the pine trees overhead, like
the sound of the surf on deserted
shore.
Slowly he made his way across,
feeling with his encountered feet for
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