The Ocala evening star. [volume] (Ocala, Fla.) 1895-1943, 1912-04-22

not surmIse. Putting himself into Il
Newbold's place and imagining that II
the engineer had possessed entire in
formation, he decided that he must /
have told everything to Enid Matt |
land as soon as he had found out the 4
quasi relation between her and Arm
strong. And Armstrong did not believe L
the woman he loved could be in any,
body's presence a month without tell /
ing something about him. Still, it was /
possible that Newbold knew nothing, /
and that he told nothing therefore
The situation was paralyzing to a |
man OF Armstrong; decided, determin- |
ed temperament He could not decide |
upon the line OF conduct he should |
pursue. His course in this, the most |
critical emergency he had ever faced, |
must be determined by circumstances t
of which he felt with savage resent |
ment he was in some measure the
sport. He would have to leave to
chance what ought to be subject to his
Will OF only one thing he was sure
he would stop at nothing, murder, ly-
ing; nothing, to win the woman, and
to settle his score with that man
There was really only one thing he
could do, and that was to press on
up the canon. He had no idea how
far 1t might be or how long journey
he would have to make before he
reached that shelf on the high hill
where stood that hut in which she
dwelt. AS the crow flies, 1t could not
be a great distance, but the canon
zigzagged through the mountains with
as many curves and angles as a light
ming flash. He plodded on, therefore,
with furious haste, recklessly speed
ing over places where a misstep in
the snow Or a slip on the Icy rocks
would have meant death or disaster to
him.
He had gone about an hour, and had
perhaps made four miles from the
camp when the storm burst upon him.
1t was now broad day, but the sky was
| filled with clouds and the air with
driving snow The wind whistled down
the canon with terrific force 1t was with
| difficulty that he made any Roadway at
| all against it. 1t was a local storm;
if he could have looked through the
snow he would have discovered calm
ness on the top of the peaks. 1t was
one of those sudden squalls of wind
and snow which rage with terrific
force while they last, but whose rage
was limited, and whose violent dura-
ton would be short.
A less determined man than he
would have bowed to the inevitable
and sought some shelter behind a
rock until the fury of the tempest
was spent, but there was no storm
that blew that could stop this man
so long as he had strength to drive
against it. So he bent his head to the
fierce blast and struggled on There
was something titanic and magnificent
about this iron determination and per-
sistence Of Armstrong. The two most
powerful passions which move human
ity were at his service; love led him
and hate drove him. And the two
were SO intermtngled that 1t was diff
ficult to say which predominated, now
one and now the other. The resultant
of the two forces, however, was an
onward move that would not be de.
MED.
His fur coat was soon covered with
snow and ice, the sharp needles Of the
storm cut his face wherever it WAS ex-
posed. The wind forced its way
through his garments and chilled him
to the bone. He had eaten nothing
since the night before, and his vital
ity was not at its flood, but he pressed
on, and there was something grand
in his indomitable progress. Excel
sior!
Back in the hut Kirkby and Maitland
!, sat around the fire waiting most impa.
tfently for the wind to blow itself GU,
} and for that snow to stop falling