Grant County herald. [volume] (Lancaster, Wis.) 1850-1968, 1909-09-29

another moment, and she had resolved
to go over and wait where her horse
was tied. AS she re-entered the door
way she stopped. In the room she had
just left a cowboy sat at the table
taking apart revolver to clean it.
The revolver was spread in it's parts
before him, but across the table lay
a ride. The man had not been in the
room when she left it a moment be-
fore.
Dicksie passed behind him. He paid
no attention to her; he had not looked
up when she entered the room. Pass
ing behind him once more to go out,
Dicksie looked through the open win
dow before which he sat. Sinclair and
Marion sitting under the cottonwood
tree were in plain sight, and the muZ-
zle of the rifle where it lay covered
them. Dicksie thrilled, but the man
was busy with his work. Breathing
deeply, she walked out on the porch
again. Sinclair, she thought, was
looking straight at her, and in her anx-
iety to appear unconscious she turned,
walked to the end of the house, and
at the corner almost ran into a man
sitting out of doors in the shade mend
ing a saddle. He had removed his belt
to work, and his revolver lay in the
holster on the bench, it's grip just
within reach of his hand. Dicksie
walked in front of him, but he did not
look up. She turned as if changing
her mind, and with a little flirt of her
riding skirt sat down in the porch
chair, feeling a faint moisture upon
he2 forehead.
II am going to leave this country,
Marion" Sinclair was saying. There's
nothing here for me; l can see that.
What's the use of my eating my heart
out over the way I've been treated?
I've given the best years of my life to
this railroad, and now they turn me
down with a kick and a curse. It's
the old story of the Indian and his
dog, only I don't propose to let them
make soup of me. I'm going to the
coast, Marion. I'm going to California,
where l wanted to go when we were
married, and l wish to God we had
gone there then. All our troubles
might never have been if 1 had got in
with a different crowd from these cow
boozers on the start. And, Marion, /
want to know whether you'll give me
another chance and go with me-"
Sinclair, on the bench and leaning
against the tree, sat with folded arms
looking at his wife. Marion in
hickory chair faced him.
mo one would like to see you be all
you ought to be more than l, Murray;
but you are the only one in the world
that can ever give yourself another
chance to be that"
1.-THE fellows in the saddle here now
have denied me every chance to make
a man of myself again on the railroad
you know that, Marion. In fact,
they never did give me the show I was
entitled to- 1 ought to have had
Hailey's place. Bucks never treated
me right in that; he never pushed me
In the way he pushed other men that
were just as bad as I ever was. It
discouraged me; that's the reason
went to pieces"
''It could be no reason for treating me
as you treated me; for bringing drunk
en- men and drunken women into our
house, and driving me out of it unless
1 would be what you were and what
they WERE"
81 know 1 haven't treated you right;
I've treated you shamefully. will do
anything on earth you say to square
it. l will! Recollect, / had lived
among men and in the same country
with women like that for years before
1 knew you. 1 didn't know how to
treat you; I admit it. Give me anoth-
er chance, Marion"
81 gave you all that had when I
married you, Murray. haven't any
thing more to give to any man. You
would be disappointed in me if could
ever live with you again, and could
not do that without living lie every
day."
He bent forward, looking at the
ground. He talked of their first meet
ing in Wisconsin,; of the happiness Of
their little courtship; he brought up
California again, and the northwest
coast, where, he told her, great rail
road was to be built and he should find
the chance he needed to make record