The Tupelo journal., 1909-09-17

clair told the story of the killing,
barred his tremendous forearm to
show where the polished claws had
ripped him, and, disregarding Dicksie's
protests, insisted on sending the skin
over to Crawling Stone ranch as q
souvenir of her visit.
81 live a great lea alone over here"
he said, waving Dicksie's continued re.
fusal magnificently aside as he moved
into the next room. tive got a few
good dogs, and / hunt just enough to
keep my hand in with a rifle" Dicksie
quailed a little at the smile that went
with the words. 1.-The men, at least
the kind l mix with, don't care for
grizzly skins, and to enjoy anything
you've got to have sympathetic COM
pany-don't you know that?" he asked,
looking admiringly at Dicksie. I've
got another skin for you-a silver-tip,"
che added, in deep, gentle tones, ad-
dressing Marion. 1T has a fine head,
as fine az I ever saw in the Smithson-
ian. 1t is down at Medicine Bend now,
being dressed and mounted. BY the
way, I've forgotten to ask you, Miss
Dicksie, about the high water. How
did you get through at the rancho"
Dicksie, sitting on the piano bench,
looked up with resolution. "Bravely!"
she exclaimed. "Mr. McCloud came to
our rescue with bags and mattresses
and 100 men, and he has put in a re-
vetment 1000 feet long. Oh, we are
regular river experts at our house
now! Had you any trouble here. Mr..
Sinclair?"
mo, the FrenchmaG behaves pretty
well in the rock. We had 40 feet of
water here ore Jay, though; 40 feet.
that's right. McCloud, yes; able fell
low, / guess, too, though he and |
dsn't hit it Off" Sinclair sat back in
his chair, and as he spoke he spoke
magnanimously. HE doesn't like me,
but that is no fault of his; railroad
men, and good ones, too, sometimes
get started wrong with one another.
Well, I'm glad he took care of you.
Try that piano, Miss Dicksie, will you?
| don't know much about pianos, but
that ought to be a good one. l would
wheel the player over for you, but
any n that plays as beautifully as
you do ought not to be allowed to use
a player. Marion, l want to talk a few
minutes with you, may I? Do you mind
going out under the cottonwood"
Dicksie's heart jumped. Don't be
gone long, Marion" she exclaimed, i'm
pulsively, 'for you know, Mr.. Sinclair.
And Dicksie, pale with apprehension,
looked at them both. Marion, quite
composed, nodded reassuringly and
followed Sinclair out of doors into the
sunshine.
For a few minutes Dicksie fingered
wildly on the piano at some half-for-
gotten air, and in a fever of excite
ment walked out on the porch to see
where they were. To her relief, she
saw Marion sitting near Sinclair un
der the big tree in front of the house,
where the horses stood. Dicksie, with
her hands on her girdle. walked for
iorniy back and forth h-mmed a tune,
sat down In a rocking chair, fannsl
herself, rose, walked back and forth
again, and reflected that she was per-
fectly helpless, and that Sinclair might
kill Marion a hundred times before
she could reach her. And the thought
that Marion was perhaps wholly un-
cons cious of danger increased her
anN ETY..
SIZE sat down in despair. How could
Whispering Smith have allowed any
one he had a care for to be exposed in
this dreadful way? Trying to think
what to do, Dicksie hurried back to
the living room, walked to the piano,
took the pile of sheet music from the
top, and sat down to thumb it over.
She threw song after song on the
chair beside her. They were sheets
of gaudy Dol songs and ragtime with
fiaring covers, and they seemed to
give off odors of cheap perfume. Dick
sic hardly saw the titles as she passed
them over, but of a sudden she
stopped. Between two sheets of music
lay a small handkerchief. 1t was
mussed, and in the corner of it Mel
lie" was written conspicuously in a
laundry mark. The odor of musk be-
came in an instant sickening. Dicksie
threw the music disdainfuily aside,
and sprang up with a flushed face to
leave the room. S~inclair's remark
about the first woman to cross his
threshold came back to her. From
that moment Dicksie hated him. But
nc ooner had she seated herself on
the porch than she remembered she
had left her hat in the house, and
rose to go in after it. She was re-
solved not to leave it under the roof
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 a revolver to clean it.
The revolver was spread in it's parts
before him, but across the table lay
a rifle. 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 1t lay covered
them. Dicksie thrilled, but the man
was busy with his work. Breathing
deeply, she walked out on the porch