The Whitefish pilot. [volume] (Whitefish, Mont.) 1904-current, 1910-09-22

y
by. with smile, rising and placing his
hand on the others shoulder. I'm
afraid haven't been thinking very
much Of you, old partner. But Pm 60
ing to stay-call it what you like.
However, this is not your hand. Lar
kin, and l don't want you to help me
play it out. Go, by all means. and ut
once. Did you get fresh horseY
"a fresh horse? Why. I wouldn't
even burst to ask for the one I come
on" cried Bunce. hopping his face.
."You don't seem to rightly size up the
mess we're in. Gene. I'll be lucky to
git out on my own two feet. l don't
even know where they put my hat,
and I'm skeered to ask for it. Then it
amt no more use my askin' you to
come?'
mo more use than IN your staying"
said Kirby.
Bunce hesitated for moment, then
thrust out his huge hand.
"Goodby. you burned foolv' he gasp
ed, choking up.
"GOOdby, Larkin, but don't bet that
1t is goodby. They won't get me. I'll
ride your horse into town for you to-
morrow"
Bunce bestowed final helpless ap-
peal upon the ceiling, gave his part
ners hand a farewell wrench. then
numbered hastily from the room, while
Kirby, humming softly to himself,
strolled to the Open window and, lean
ing negligently against its frame. gave
himself up to retrospect.
He wanted to be alone; he wanted to
think. to dream, to go over and over
again every word that Adele had spO-
ken. every smile, every gesture. His
thoughts were solely of the immediate
present and past. For the future he
did not care-neither Tom Randall's
homecoming nor his own inevitable
unmasking. He wondered what he
would have been, what the end would
have been. had his early life been laid
in pleasanter lines-less harsh. less
lonely. Yes. utter loneliness was a
great and sinister factor in molding
mans destiny. What if the last of the
Kirbys had proved an honor to the
old name, instead of a professional
river gambler! And why was he re-
naming? Was not the allegOry of
the rosebush too bitterly true? Why
had Adele said those last words: But
mightn't it be perhaps with one wo-
man he couldn't be beaten, even then p
Yes, it might be, and it would be-,
and the truth of it had been proved
since the beginning of time. But. even
II she were willing and knew him for
what he was, could he rightly ask the
sacrifice? Yet those words had awak-
ened fierce longing, had held out a
promise of hope. And he could not
utterly renounce, not just yet Per-
haps-
He turned as nand tugged at his
sleeve, turned to confront old Group,
who had stolen nOiselessly to his side.
"Marse Gene. TO- Gawd's sake look
QUIT" whispered Group, his face gray
with anxiety, his voice trembling with
suppressed excitement. "I's feared it's
too late fo.' ;yo' to git away. Marse
Anatole done ride out de stable lax
he's crazy, an if yo' listen to de quiet
out yonneh yo' kind hear bosses
a-comin' down de big road. an dey
comm on de gallop. Marse Gene. Old
Group mighty skeered TO yo'. honey"
Kirby turned an attentive ear to-
ward the softly stealing south wind
that harbinger of danger. Yes. the
hOof beats were now mistakenly audi
BILE, drawing nearer and nearer with
every passing second. More than one
horse, too-say dozen, if he was any
judge.
"Thank you for the warning, Group"
he said quietly, preserving his attitude
of idle indifference. AS if discussing
the most trivial commonplace. II
quite agree with you that it is too
late to think of escape