The Winslow mail., 1913-08-30
COPYRIGHT ts1e BY A-c-rclURo g. ca

them stretched a chasm never to be
| bridged.
What could the woman possibly
want of him? To explain the past?
To justify herself? He knew enough
already, and desired to know no more.
| Could she hope-natural coquette that
she was-to regain her hold upon
him? The man smiled grimly, conf
dent of his own strength. Yet why
should she care for such a conquest,
the winning of a common soldier?
There must be some better reason,
some more subtle purpose. Could it
be that she feared him, that she was
afraid that he might speak to her in
jury? This was by far the most like
ly supposition. Molly McDonald-the
woman was aware of their acquaint-
ance, and was already alarmed at its
possible result.
Hamlin stood up resolved. He
would meet the woman, not from any
desire of his own, but to learn her
purpose, and protect the girl. The
meeting could not injure him, not
even bring swifter beating of the
heart, but might give him opportunity
to serve the other. And LIE Fevre-
surely she could tell him something
| of LIE Fevre.
Leave was easily obtained, aid the
Sergeant, rejoicing in a freshly issued
| uniform, dressed with all the care pos
sible, his interest reviving at this new
point of view. 1t was not far down
the bluff road to the squalid little vii
lage which had naturally developed in
close proximity to the fort-near
enough for protection, yet far
| enough removed to be lawless-a
rough frontier outpost town, of shacks
and tents, most Of these dispensing
vile liquors. Among these, more en-
terprising spirits-hopeful Of future
development-had erected larger
buildings, usually barn-like, with false
fronts facing the single main street,
filled with miscellaneous stocks of
goods or used for purposes not so le-
gitimate. One of these housed the
Poodle Dog" saloon, with gambling
rooms above, while few doors below
was great dance hall, easily convert
ed into theater if occasion arose-a
grotesque, one-storied monstrosity. Be
low these was the stage office, built
against the three-storied wooden ho-
tel, which boasted Of wide porch on
two sides, and was a picture of ugli-
ness.
By daylight all was squalor and dirt,
dingy tents tapping in the ceaseless
wind, unpainted shacks, wooden
houses with boards warping under the
hot sun, the single street deep in yel-
low dust, the surrounding prairie lit
tered with tin cans, and all manner of
debris. But with the coming of night
| much of this roughness departed. Sol
diers from the garrison on pass, idle
plainsmen, bull-whackers, adventurers
of all kinds stranded here because of
Indian activity, stray cowboys from
the nearby valleys, thronged the nu-
| merous dives, seeking excitement.
Women, gaudy of dress, shrill of voice,
| fitted from door to door through the
| jostling crowds. Lamps blazed over
| the motley assembly, loud-voiced bark
ers yelled, and band added it's dis
cords to the din. The Poodle Dog"
glared in light, resounded with noise;
lamps cleaned from the hotel win
dows, and the huge dance hall stood
| wide open. Out from the shacks and
tents crept the days sleepers for a
night Of revelry; along the trails rode
| others eager for excitement; it was
the harvest-time of those birds of prey
| in saloon and gambling hell.
Hamlin saw all this, but gave the
surroundings little thought. He was
held nothing unique in the scene.
| Moreover, the purpose for which he
was there overshadowed all else, left
| him Indifferent to the noise, the jost-
| ling, drunken crowd. Some he met
who knew him and called his name,
| but he passed them in a word, and
pressed his way forward At the ho-
| tel he mounted the steps and entered.
| The Office was in one corner of the
bar-room. The proprietor himself,
| bald-headed Irishman, sat with feet
| cooked up on the counter, smoking,
and barely glancing up as the Ser
geant asked for Mrs. Dupont.
"Who are yer?" he asked.
"My name is Hamlin; am here on
the lady's invitation"
Sure; thet's ther name all right,
me bhoy. Yer ter go out on the east
porch there, an wait bit whole l
sind her word yer here. Oi'm imag-
inin' she he'd sum doubts about yer
comm, the way she spoke"
| "How do I get there?"
! Through the winder of the parlur
over thar-sure, it's noice quiet spot