Dakota farmers' leader. (Canton, S.D.) 1890-19??, 1909-11-05
@ OLD S5N]6N1nnSM167Wu2


The conference at Conway had been
brief. The man from the city had
met tho disabled master Of railways
n talked with him for a brief hour
n then the eminent physician had
called a halt and ordered his patient
back to his bath and his bed.
The man from the city had virtually
completed his work, however. He was
the sick mans successor, self-appoint.
Cd, 1t Is true, but with none to con.
test his claim.
He wa conscious when he shook the
old captain Of industry by the hand,
that it might be for the last time, and
the feeling added an unaccustomed
tenderness to his parting words.
Tho man from the city had antici-
pated a two days stay. He had used
but one. And hen a sudden whim
seized him. The village where he
had spent his boyhood. the old home
he had never revisited, vas but twenty
miles away. 1t was not on the rail-
way line, but he could rent a con-
veyance OF some kind, perhaps an auto
mobile. Anyway. he had made up
his mind to see the village again.
1t was a mild curiosity that prompt
ed him. He had no old friends to re-
ward. No grudges to settle. Yes, there
was one.
He felt a sudden wave Of bitterness
cross his mind. 1t was absurd, Of
N0,yrcA-th0 thir~ hol lo~0o~aI 81
long ago. But the anger was still
there-anger against tho man who had
robbed him of Lucy Dalton's love.
He knew he had been robbed. He
had found 1t out when too late. John
Ingram had slandered him to the girl,
and had brought up in his disfavor
a cruel untruth. And Lucy had mar
ried John Ingram and all the world
had grown dark and hollow for Jim
Atherton.
He laughed at himself for his ro-
mantle folly, and yet despite the years
that had elapsed those moments Of
anguish seemed very real.
He laughed again when he reflected
that this bitter disappointment had
been the making of him. II he had
married Lucy Dalton he would have
settled down in Winsted and might to.
day be a plodding old rheumatic farm
err. As it was, the loss Of the girl
he had loved had driven him to the
great city and to-day his was a name
that all men were forced to respect
and many men feared.
Yet, unworthy as the thought seem
ed to him, he felt that 1t would please
him to know that John Ingram had
not prospered, and he had a keen de-
sire to meet his false friend and re-
mind him bf his perftdy.
Seeing poor old Barton has made
me sentimental" he growled. What
has Jim Anterior to do with old
homes and early loves? Just the same
I'm going over"
He stayed all night at the hotel,
and after breakfast secured an auto
mobile to carry him across the ridge.
It was q pleasant ride, clear and
cool. and Jim Atherton enjoyed it in
his quiet way. He remembered walk
ing over the same road the day he had
turned his back forever on Winsted.
Yes, there vas the grist mill where
the farmer had given him q lift. How
well be recalled the sleek span of
horses. He was a kind old man and
had shown a friendly interest in the
adventurous boy. Jim Atherton sud
denly wished he could do something
for the man who had extended the
first helping hand to him in his earli-
est venture, but no doubt he had beer
dead many years.
Pretty country" said the chauffeur.
Eyes" his passenger agreed.
Ever this way before@'
''Not for many years.
ut doesn't change said the chauf.
ieur.
A moment later they came within
sight Of a white steeple and a cluster
Of houses nesting among the trees.
That's Wfnsted,' said the chauffeur
SITS too sound asleep to aver wake
up"
Jim Atherton looked around.
you may let me on here" he said
sI1l walk down the hill. I'm not go
ing back TO Conway. I'll reach the
railway on the other side.
h He pushed some bills into the chauf
|cfeur's hand and walked briskly dowr
the hill. Fgs Z 81
The chauffeur stared ut the monea
and then zat the ~retreating figure.
Who in blazes can the old cha1
1oT hs muttered He looked aSai1
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