The Detroit times. [volume] (Detroit, Mich.) 1903-1920, 1912-08-06
PHIuPSTEELE
MISUNDERSTANDING
y JAMES OLIVER CURwOOD
AutlS Of heDenar Tuil. ThesooOr ftkbe Seoxsdc,
~ c.syrisA. isiI, TIE BObs. Merrill Company
~ c.vrisl. sii, n. Boes.- Merrill Company,

neck like cords OF steel. With
choking gasp he clutched at DeBars
wrists, knowing that another minute
IA half-minute of that death clutch
would throttle him. He saw the tri-
umph In DeBars eyes and with a last
supreme effort drew back his arm and
sent a terrific short-arm punch into
the others stomach.
The grip at his throat relaxed. A
second, third, and "A fourth blow,
his arm travelling swiftly in and out,
like a piston-rod and the triumph In
DeBar's eyes was replaced by look
OF agony. The fingers at his throat
loosened still more, ana with sud
den movement Philip freed himself
and sprang back step TO gather
force for the final blow.
The move was fatal. Behind him
his heel caught in a aforementioned
log and he pitched backward with
DeBar on top OF him.
Again the iron fingers burned at
his throat. But this time he made no
resistance. and after a moment the
outlaw rose TO his feet and stared
down into the white, still face half
buried in the snow. Then he gently
lifted Philips head in his arms. There
was crimson blotch in the snow
and close to IL the black edge OF a
hidden rock
| AS quickly as possible DeBar car
ried Philip into the cabin and placed
him on one of the cots Then he
| gathered certain articles of food from
| Pierre's stock and put them N his
pack. He had carried the pack half
| 70 no he
dropped his load gently 10 the floor.
+, and thrust hand inside his coat
pocket. From it he drew forth let
ter. IL was a woman's letter-and he
read IL now with bowed head. a letter
of infinite faith. and hope. and love.
and when once more he turned to-
ward Philip his face was filed with
| the flush of a great happiness.
'Mebby you don't just understand.
Phil he whispered, as If the other
were listening to him. I'm going to
! leave this"
! With the stub of a pencil he scrib-
bled few words at the bottom or
the crumpled letter.
! He wrote in crude, awkward
| hand
You'd won If IL hadn't been for the
rock. But | guess mebby that 1t was
! God who put the rock there, Phil
While you was asleep | took the bull
lets out OF your cartridges and put
In damp paper for | didn't want TO
see any harm done with the guns. |
didn't shoot TO hit you, and after all.
I'm glad II was the rock that hurt
you instead OF me-
He leaned over the cot to assure
himself that Philips breath was COM
ing steadier and stronger, and then
laid the letter on the young mans
breast
Five minutes later he was plodding
steadily ahead OF his big Mackenzie
hound into the peopleless barrens to
the south and west.
And still later Philip opened his
eyes and saw what DeBar had left
for him. He struggled into a sitting
posture and read the few lines which
the outlaw had written.
Here's TO you, MIR. Felix MacGreg-
or" he chuckled feebly, balancing
himself on the edge of the bunk.
You're right. It'll take two men to
lay out Mr. William DeBar-if you
ever get him at ALL"
Three days later. still in the cabin,
he raised hand TO his bandaged
head with an odd grimace, half OF
pain, half Of laughter.
(Continued).