The Lamar register., 1912-11-20

mutely for the rest.
my dear Marjorie" said the short
note. 81 have learned, quite by acct.
dent, that your former feelings to.
ward me have changed SO completely
that 1t would mean unhappiness to
you If | held you to our engagement.
l will not pretend that this discovery
has not caused me deep grief. nor will
/ pretend that my great love for you
has been lessened in the least love
you more. II that were possible now
that know you cannot be mine,
than I did before when all seemed
smooth. l know that 1t will cause you
pain to think of me; but beg you not
to let it cloud your new happiness too
much. In the last few hours since
learned your secret, l have become
conscious that / had nothing to offer
you except a commonplace life. with
only money for compensation. can
understand why you should have pre-
ferred the better man when he came.
You could not help it. 1t is fate.
II shall be out of the city whom you
receive this. 1t will be better for Us
both. God bless you, my dear. sweet
girl. Do not worry about me. In a
few years shall return and look to
see you happy in your marriage"
Fifteen minutes after this letter had
disappeared in the remorseless Jaw OF
a letter box, Owen Cuthbert was on
a train bound for New York and
message speeding ahead of him over
the wires was ordering a stateroom In
a liner due to sail next day.
Events move swiftly In the be-wired
and be-railed world in these days. The
sun had set only a hundred times on
Mr.. Owen Cuthbert when 1t rose
again on a person who looked won
drously different from the conven-
tionally arrayed, luxurious. easy-goins
Mr.. owen Cuthbert Of the clubs.
This one hundredth and one sun
rose on a Cuthbert in rags that once
had been khaki. Instead of a monot-
onous avenue with solemn houses.
there was a monotonous desert with
solemn rocks.
High overhead a vulture was soar.
ing. The ragged person looked at 1t
and made a gesture Of helpless dis
gust that was nearer horror. Then
he took a drink It was not q pleas
ant. cool, fragrant mixture brought in
frosted glass by trained club
servant. 1t was stale water gulped
from dusty. canvas-covered canteen.
Mr.. Owen Cuthbern would not have
objected to that alone. He had ar
rived at a point where stale water
tasted pretty good. What bothered
him was that It was the last drop.
WELL" said he. deliberately address
ing himself. big game hunting 10 all
right until a fellow becomes the big
game in his own person"
Owen Cuthbert's humorous words
belied his real feelings. He was not
In a merry mood and his TESTING self
communion was sardonic. High above
him. the vulture. patiently circling.
gave the joke an unpleasant added
point
He did not deceive himself into any
belief that he could escape from his
predicament alive. although he knew
that the Uganda railroad lay only a
days march distant across the Afri-
can plain. The spear-thrust in his leg
would not permit him to crawl even
to the shade Of the scrub a hundred
feet away. He was as helpless al q
fettered man. Soon burning thirst as
sailed him, but he could only long for
water The dreaded wound-fever grew.
He began to see wild visions In the
quivering heat-waves Now he saw
his treacherous native guides rushing
AT him He went through the ninutea
while he held them of with his rifle.
Again he saw the broad.bladed spear
flashing zig-zag CLEANS as It hurtled
at him.
He called to them again and again.
az he had called when they ran OF
with his plumber. first threatening
then beseeching. He had intervals Of
Inconsistencies now when all was
blessedly blank and cool and dark.
Suddenly he dreamed of a spring.
He heard its splash from moist, spray
freshened rocks. He stopped, and the
glorious liquid touched his lips.
"Oh. owen. Owen. Owen!" he heard
a voice say close to his face. It was
voice broken by sobs.
Something was pressed to his lips
something bitter that made pain
and knowledge pass away.
In a little village of little iron
houses. Owen Cuthbert came back to
his knowledge Of himself again He
was lying on a cool, white cot Over