Cheraw chronicle. [volume] (Cheraw, S.C.) 1896-2005, 1912-04-11
De arrived at. Wnat tnese
she could not tell.

fort except in the thought that she
loved him. So long as their affections
matched and ran together nothing
else mattered. With the solution Of 1t
all next to her sadly beating heart she
was still supremely confident that
love, or God-and there was not 30
much difference between them as to
make 1t worth while to mention the
one rather than the other-would find
the way.
Their leave taking had been singu-
larly cold and abrupt. She had real
lied the danger he was apt to- incur
and she had exacted a reluctant prom
ise from him that he would be careful.
Don't throw your life away, don't
risk it even, remember that 1t is
mine," she had urged.
And just as simply as she had en-
joined it upon him he had promised.
He had given his word that he would
not send help back to her but that he
would bring 1t back, and she had con-
fldence In that word. A confidence
that had he been inclined to break his
promise would have made 1t absolute
ly impossible. There had been long
clasp Of the hands, a long look IN the
eyes, q long breath in the breast, a
long throb In the heart and then
farewell. They dared no more.
Once before he had left her and she
had stood upon the plateau and fol-
lowed his vanishing figure with anIi-
GUS troubled thought until It had been
lost in the depths Of the forest below.
She had controlled herself In this
second parting for his sake as well as
her own. Under the ashes Of his
grim repression she realized the pres
ence OF live Goals which breath would
have famed into flame. She dared
nothing while he was there, but when
he shut the door behind him the ne
cessity for sef-control was removed.
She had laid her arms on the table
and bowed her head upon them and
shook and quivered with emotions un-
relieved by q single tear-weeping
was for lighter hearts and less severe
demands!
His position after all was the easier
Of the two. AS Of old it was the man
who went forth to the battlefield while
the woman could only wait passively
the issue Of the fight. Although he
was half blinded with emotions he had
to give some thought to his progress,
and there was yet one task to be done
before he could set forth upon his
journey toward civilization and res
cue.
1t was fortunate, as 1t turned out,
that this obligation detained him. He
was that type Of merciful man whose
mercies extended to his beasts. The
poor little burros must be attended to
and their safety assured so far as it
could be, for 1t would be impossible
for Enid Maitland to care for them.
Indeed he had already exacted a prom
ise from her that she would not
leave the plateau and risk her life on
the icy stairs with which she was so
unfamiliar.
He had gone to the corral and shak-
en- down food enough for them which
If 1t had been doled out to them day
by day would have lasted longer than
the week he intended to be absent; of
course he realized that they would eat
it up in half that time, but even so
they would probably suffer not too
great discomfort before he got back.
All these preparations took some lit
tie time. 1t had grown somewhat late
in the morning before he started.
There had been a fierce storm raging
when he first looked out and at her
earnest solicitation he had delayed his
departure until it had subsidized
His tasks at the corral were at last
completed; he had done what he could
for them both, nothing now remained
but to make the quickest and safest
way 10 the settlement. Shouldering
the pack containing his axe and gun
and sleeping bag and such provision
as would serve to tide him over un-
Ill he reached human habitatons, he
set forth. He did rot look up to the
hut, indeed he could not have seen it
FOR the corral was almost directly be-
meath it, but if it had been in full view
be would not have looked hack. he
could not trust himself to, every in
stinct, every impulse in his soul would
fain drag him back to that hut and to
the woman. 1t was only his will and,
did he but know it, her will that made