Lincoln County leader. [volume] (Toledo, Lincoln County, Or.) 1893-1987, 1908-10-23

the side walls were scattered over the
bottom of the cistern. He dropped sew
eral ignited matches into the chamber,
and determined to examine the place
more thoroughly by daylight. From the
native cabins came the sound of a dog
barking. A shutter clicked in one of the
upper windows of the plantation house.
There's be no doubt about it now,"
he thought grimly. They'll proceed at
once to shut me up for being mentally ir-
reclaimable."
That was a parched but brilliant dawn
ing. The binding charge from the east
changed the dew to steam before it touch
ed the ground. The more delicate bios
SONS were withered in the hectic burning
when the sun was but an hour high.
Laras face was ashen and darkly lined
under the eyes. The night had been an
evil one to her, evil with a struggle as
| yet unfinished.
Peter, you're pulling yourself down."
said Uncle Joey after breakfast. Don't
take Pelee quite so seriously. Go to bed
for day, or, better still, steam the
Madame out for days run and get some
rest under the breezy awnings
what sort OF craven image do you
think your sisters boy is, uncle?" Con-
stable inquired. "I'll get you folks out
of the war zone, or stay here until Pelee
is cool-or billion tons lighter"
But don't you overestimate the chance
of an eruption, Peter"
Il haven't finished my mathematical
calculations, my dear relative. Holy nup-
tials and capitals of hell I've been all
over this before. Take my word for it,
and get set for a start when the mails
come in tomorrow morning. You are all
foolish virgins. I'm going down below
to see how your city fourishes in this
furnace of day. Who is the Snug au-
thorty on Les Colonies, who undertakes
to tell Saint Pierre editorially that there
is no danger?"
M. Mondet is the editor
81 should relish considerably the pleas
ure of calking up the throat of NJ. Mondet
with several sheets of his political con-
spiracies. | believe | shall call upon
him."
I'VE look up to Les Colonies here, Pc
ter. Remember this is not Montana"
THE tropics have enervated you. un-
Gle. You need to be born again"
The hottest morning Saint Pierre had
known for years. The porteuses were
gone from the highways. Rue Victor Hugo,
the principal thoroughfare, was deserted
at ten in the morning. Shop doors were
closed, the street venders silent. Vol
canic ash lay in all the crevces, and min
gled with the turf. Behind the shut
doors children walled. The tough little
mules, some in their panniers and with
no one to lead them, hugged the east
walls for shade. From the byways came
family the smell of DEATH In the offices
of Les Colonies Constable found breath
of cooness, for the outer air was admit
ted as little as possible. NJ. Mondet well
coined the caller. Constable explained
his purpose. profered a card, and apollo
gized for his French.
NJ. Mondet was tubby little man. His
hands were white, soft, tapering, ringed
If you saw them alone, you would
promptly uncover, as is customary in the
proximity of a woman. Nj. Mondet did
not forget his hands.
"Pelee has bad look, monsieur" Con-
stable began. IL believe you could clear
the city of ten thousand people if YOU
printed vigorous warning against the
mountain; if you ordered the natives to
take no chances, but to hee regardless of
their coats, chickens, Goals, coins, or their
next city fathers. To be instrumental in
saving the lives of ten thousand people
is not a service given to all men, mon
sieur.'
Constable spoke slowly, and was anger
ed by the reply of the editor:
But, my dear NJ. Constable, there is
no danger-no danger, assure you"
"Sir, this is tragedy-black, rumbling,
naked tragedy | say there is need for
giant here, who would paint the possibli-
ties of that monster in living fire. A man
might die in the foulest gutter, cursed by
the demons of drink and disease, but with
a chant on his lips and vine leaves in
his hair, if the memory of such a service
as may be yours were with him at the
last J"
The French editor found himself look
ing into a lean, tanned face that flushed
and paled in turn. Moreover, he was
uneasy on account of a pair of lean,
tanned hands which lay lightly and rest
lessly upon the knees of the man before
him. These hands seemed to be the po-
tent embodiments of hate and swiftness
The manner of their low leaping created
the impression that their leashes were in
secure, and the immaculate cravat of NJ
Mondet felt tight upon his throbbing
| throat.
Perhaps it is well that you called"
he said with haste, leading out his caller
with the delicacy bred of the fear of
dynamite.
Constable left, unsatisfed. The clock
in the Hospital PMiltaire struck the
hour of eleven. Constable slowly made
his way to the water front and back to
the Sugar Landing. His launch was still
waiting there at the stone pier. He had
| IL ~.