Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1909-09-19

his workshop 1t will be great night to see Bel
tempo's ghost, Don Jininez!" she cried gay as she
settled herself into her hammock. will you take
me up into the hills to look for him? There'll be
fine full MOON"
Don Jimnez sprang up and sat erect on his bench
but only for moment. With surly laugh he
lapsed into his former position and answered moo!-
lily, "There1 be heavy fog tonight, think" 1t
would have seemed from his words that his only in
tereSt lay the question of the weather of the
ter of the moon and the fog.
But Evelyn's suspicious had been aroused once
more. Il wonder why Betempo's should al
ways affect him?" she unused, could she quiet
the thoughts that followed fast the question re-
memberng she did that it had been Don Jimnez
himself who had suggested that perchance it was
Betempo's spirit that had so many times waylad
the Randsburg stage. Whatever confirmation her
theories lacked was added when Donna Perfecta told
her that afternoon that poor Don Jiminez had been
called away, that he had been obliged to 60 town
to attend to some important business.
oaks, crept up to the crest of the range. The
moonlight showed them dark and gloom haunted.
Cleaving them, in wide white furrow, lay the road.
slopng gently, gradually, to the summit and pitch
ing suddenly into the valley beyond. Silent solitary
even ghost haunted the forest and the road seemed
for there sound of bird or beast. Under the
live oaks the shadows grouped themselves into fan
tastic shapes Pickering and dancing the carpet
of dead leaves.
Only in one spot was shape that was still shape
that seemed to have the width and stature of man
for it was tall and gaunt and draped from head to
foot in straight folds that might have been the
sock of Franciscan monk or the cloak of Spanish
cavalier. A loose hood drawn up over the head
and face. Unnaturally tall the shape seemed under
the stunted trees, unnaturally still amid the dane
ing shadows, unnaturaly gruesome even in a haunted
wood. There sound in the road no faintest
sound of wheel or hoof; neither in the forest was
there sound OF cracking brush swapping tw g but
suddenly the silence of the night was broken.
"FihRo, Ftipo, tesoro de mn atn1al" The voice
ing, and yet SO low that it mig ht have issued from
shadows lips. The Spanish words were liquid notes
of love.
The cossacked figure started; curse slipped from
the hooded lips
'Filipo, Fiipo, art here at last? Hast come, in
deed, after all these weary years."
The words nearer now. 1t seemed to the
listening man almost that he could hear the breath
that gave them life, and yet there was no shape
semb tIE of human creature in sight.
Who you? Where are your he demanded,
turning to right and left. He spoke in Spanish, as
spoken the words he heard.
"Ah, FiliPo FiliPo, is my voice all impotent to
rouse thee then! 1t thou wouldSt me too, why,
here l am"
As the cassocked shadow turned there fitted
narrow moonlit aisle far down between
the trees dainty figure. For instant only the
white light rested on skirt OF yellowed satin, on
dPSdb Sead on lace ar
of terror. With outstretched arms the cassocked
figure drew wide the figure of the cross.
"Ah, Fahpo, mn eordson, dost not know me even
thousand nights I've waited at tryst and thoust
never come Now, to find thee here! To find thee
all forgetful of love- forgetu of that oath
the sacred crucifx to from heaven hell to
meet there, where short love livedl
While life lasted, l waited for thee there, guarding
that sacred treasure that we buried Never has my
soul known peace but always has sought for thee
for touch of thee for word of thee All, Filipo Fill
ipo Reltempo! Is all thy love for dead dead even
as those bodies we wore so long ago?"
The voice farther away, and yet there had
been sound of footsteps the crisp dried leaves