The pioneer express. [volume] (Pembina, Dakota [N.D.]) 1883-1928, 1908-12-18

the wind, I hear Of drifts eight or nine
feet deep. Well, I'll look in as near
noon as I can"
The doctor ran down the path to
his trap, swinging his arms to keep up
his circulation. There had been a
brief lull, but now the snow was fall.
ing again in great flakes.
Near the Cross Ways the drifts
were eight or nine feet deep! That
was why the tragedy had not yet
come to light. Under the drift the
dead man lay in his white sepulchre,
unsupported by passersby. And the
snow was still falling, building higher
and higher this white tomb, guarding
that secret which he alone knew! A
sudden sense of unreality swept over
Stephen Ruthen. He looked back on
the stress of the previous night; it
seemed hardly real, more like fan.
tastic dream.
Early in the afternoon the rector
had occasion to go over to the church.
He found the verger and his son bust.
ly engaged in clearing the snow from
the path-at least, the son was; Bur.
row was contenting himself with cri.
tical supervision from the shelter of
the lych gate. From the church pro.
cecded the sound of the organ. Ste.
phen could not repress a little nerv.
GUS start as the strains suddenly
reached him. 1t seemed as though
everything was to remind him of last
night.
yes, sir, you may we'll look sur.
prised," Burrow remarked. "Inde:
fatigable, l call Mr.. Grale-intlefatiga.
ble!" Burrow had a weakness for
long words. 'The church as cold as
stone, but it makes no matter to
him. 1 often says to my lad here, if
we were all as enthusiastic over our
work as Mr.. Grale-eh, parson?"
1t might have been dead march
that the blind organist was playing, a
requiem for the dead man in his cot.
fin of snow, so solemn and sad were
the strains, Stephen Ruthen thought
with SILVER.
The rector walked to the vestry-
not by way of the church. although
the iron-studded oak door was open.
and the path through the church yard
to the vcstry had not yet been cleared
of snow.
Ordinarily Stephen would have
crossed over to the organ to speak a
few words to Mr.. Grale; today he
shrank from the bare thought OF meet
ing him. The remembrance of their
encounter last night utterly unnerved
him. 1t WEBS impossible, of course,
that the blind man could have known
who they were, yet how strange that
by some instinct he had seemed to di.
vine their presence-had stretched out
a cropping hand towards Olive! And
his own voice, Stephen assured him.
self, could not have been recognizable
in that harsh, half-inarticulate CRY
torn from him in the panic Of the mo.
ment.
Go forward; that's your road! Go
forward-and don't once turn back!"
Stephen came away from the vestry
almost at once. The verger spoke as
he was going through the lych gate.
"Have you heard that about Mr..
Hume, sir, and"
The rector turned a white, startled
face to the speaker.
mo; what do you mean?" he said,
in suffocated voice.
about Mr.. Hume and that wild
young chap, Jack Lathom,' continued
Burrow. you'd hear, of course, there
was a bit of scuffle between 'em
two nights ago at the club at Fells.
garth?. Well, the quarrel didn't end
there. 1t seems early last night one
of the mounted constabulary had to
separate them in the road not far
from Mr.. Hume's place. They'd come
to blows again-close upon 8 o'clock
that would be. Evidently bad blood
between 'em-both were pretty ex.
cited. 1t was Mr.. Grierson who told
me; he saw it. Thought you might
have heard of it, SIR"
The gossiping verger broke off abb
rupt to point down the road.
"Just look at that now!" he cried.
admiringly; IF that isn't just like
Mr.. Bonholt Hume. Full of the milk
of human kindness if any one is-eh
parson?"
ITO Be continued.)