Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1913-02-13
THE WHITE BLACKBIRD
By
HUDSON DOUGLAS.
Copyright. 1917 by Little. Brown & Coz

rack like Justice Hall?-which reminded
him unpleasantly OF the law courts in
London. How could he ever hope tn
spend such an excess of wealth as was
soon to be Sallie's. and therefore, at his
disposal? A perfect nausea Of money
possessed Capt. Dove at such moments.
He would almost have preferred the pros
pect Of poverty again. If only FOR the sake
of the interest in life the struggle To live
might restore to him.
Enough is as good a feast said
he to himself every now and then, while
he gazed, with gloom in his soul. at the
cut crystal decanters on salver OF solid
silver which was never far from his ell
bow: and with that wise saw on his lips.
he would continue to drown his contra
dictory sorrows as deeply as possible.
But there was luckily room and to spare
in the castle for all its inmates. Siyne
and he kept as much as possible out OF
each others way, although they had re-
sumed a spasmodic outward semblance OF
amity, a steadfast inward determination
to get the better of one another. whether
by fair means or foul He could scarcely
seek Sallie'S company now that she knew
his treacherous intentions toward her.
The sick man. HerrieS, was still In bed.
in sufficiently precarious state. So that
he lived very much alone with his vari-
Gus grievances, since his walks abroad,
as far as the Jura Arms-where he soon
became almost popular among the occa-
sional profiigates of the village-were not
so frequent as they would probably nave
been in better weather.
bitter east wind, bringing always
more snow, had blown almost ceaselessty
for the best part of a fortnight before
any change came in the widest weather
that had befallen Loquhariot in long
years.
The mountain roads for miles in all di
rections were quite impossible. The mail
cart with it's driver and horses, and also
the hastily improvised snow plow which
had attempted their rescue. lay buried
deep below the ever-deepening drift into
which 1t had plunged on it's last outward
journey. The single telegraph line that
served the locality had broken down at
dozen points which were quite unap-
proachable. Stress of weather had pre-
vented the weekly steamer from making
its usual call. Loquhariot was absolutely
cut off from the outer world.
And then, with a wet westerly wind,
which soon grew into a gale. the snow
on the mountains began to melt and
floods made matters still worse. swelling
every unconsidered stream into q destruc-
tive torrent cutting wide chasms across
the precipftous main road over the pass,
undermining it's bridges and even wash
ing some Of them away bodily. In sew
eral of the more outlying districts sheer
famine began to grow imminent. The
fiocks and herds of the countryside We're
In still worse case than the Wild deer
which had escaped from their forest sane
tuaries before the first of the snow and
had been budding about the village while
it endured.
No word had come through from Mr..
Jobling in all that time. And Capt. Dove
was almost beyond the end of his out
worn patience before. scowlfng blackly
out of the library window one day when
the westerly gale had all but blown it
self out, he caught sight Of shabby. sea-
going cargo tramp, flying the Norwegian
flag. which seemed to be seeking an an
choraya behind the Small Isles at the
mouth of the loch.
1t was the Olive Branch. He would
have known her in the dark, disguise or
no disguise.
"Uh-hum"" he exclaimed, in an ecstasy
of relief Now 1 can make things move
a little at last. Now Well soon see who's
who here
Go be continued tomorrow