The Irish standard. [volume] (Minneapolis, Minn. ;) 1886-1920, 1908-01-11

drifting depths of white cloud as
lounging-robe-a blessed reprieve
from the blazing sun Of the long
weeks which had gone before.
"And then want you to promise
me-" went on Mary. quietly, that you
will not think any more Of staying be.
hind. l could not bear that. trust
you to 60. You will, won't you?"
Eyes, will go. will do anything
you say. And want, you to believe
that every thing will be all right. They
would not dare to kill him now, know
ing that we are after them. II We are
not back tonight, you will not worry,
will you? They had so much the start
of u.s."
II will try not to worry"
"Well, goodbye. Be good girl,
won't you?"
Il will try" she answered, YEARLY.
With a last look into the brave,
sweet face, and smothering mad. I'm.
cowman-like desire to stay and com.
fort this dear little woman while 9th.
ers rode away in stirring quest, Lang.
ford strobe from the sick-room into
the kitchen.
Don't let her be alone any more
than you can help, Mother White" he
said, brusquely, land don't worry her
about going to bed"
Have q bite afore you start, Mr..
Langford, d." urged the good woman,
Hospitality. you're that worn out
you're white around the gills. I'll bet
you havn't had airy bite O. breakfast"
Il had forgotten-but you are right.
No. thank you. III not stop for any
thing now. I'll have to ride like king.
dom come. I'm late. Be good to her.
Mother White" this last over his
shoulder as he sprang to his mount
from the kitchen stoop.
The long day wore along. Mother
White was baking. The men would
be ravenous when they came back.
Many would stop there for something
to eat before going on to their homes.
It might be tonight, it might be to-
morrow, 1t might not be until the day
after, but whenever the time did come,
knowing the men Of the range coun-
try, she must have something "by
her."
At last came the doctor and Gordon,
driving up in the Doctors top-buggy,
weather.stained, mud-bedaubed with
the mud of last spring, Of many
springs. The doctor was Q badly
dressed, pleasant-eyed man, past mid
die age, with fringe of gray whisk-
ers. He was a sort of journeyman
doctor, and he had drifted hither ono
day two summers ago from the Lake
Andes country In this self-same trav.
el-worn conveyance with its same
bony sorrel. He had found good
picking, he had often jovially remark.
cd since, chewing serenely away on
brand of vile plug the while. He
had elected to remain. He was part
and parcel of the cattle country now.
He was an established condition. Peo-
pie had learned to accept him as he
was and be grateful. Haste was .
mental and physical impossibility to
him. He took his own time. All must
perforce acquiesce.
"You have worked yourself into .
high fever, Miss Wiliiston, that's what
you've DONE" he said. with profession.
81 mournfulness.
II know it," she smiled wanly. II
couldn't help 1t. I'm sorry"
Gordon drew up chair and sat
down by her. saying with grave kind.
ness. "You are fretting. We must not
let you. am going to stay with you
all night and shoe the COLLINS away"
"You are kind" said Mary, grateful
ly. MAY I tell you when they come?
II. some. one speaks to me they go
CO Be cs7::assdl