The Winslow mail., 1913-08-16

full for services rendered. but It must
end there. The Major would see that
it did, would resent bitterly any pre-
sumption. No, there was nothing else
possible. If they met-as meet they
must in that contracted post-it would
be most formal, mere exchange of
| Renaissance, gratitude expressed by
smile and pleasant word. He could
expect no more; might esteem himself
fortunate, indeed, to receive even that
| recognition. Meanwhile he would en-
deavor to strike LIE Fevre's trail.
There were other interests In the
world to consider besides Molly Nc
Donald, and his memory drifted away
to home he had not visited in years.
But thought would not concentrate
there, and there arose before him, as
| he lay there, the face Of Lieutenant
Gaskins, wearing the same expression
of insolent superiority as when they
had parted out yonder on the Santa
Fe trail.
"The cowardly little fool" he NUT
tered bitterly under his breath, grip
ping the window frame. "It will re-
quire more than his money to bring
her happiness, and I'll never stand for
that. Lord! She's too sensible ever
to love him. Good God-what's that"
1t leaped out of the black night
three flashes, followed instantly by
the sharp reports. Then a fourth
this time Enthusiastically musket-
barked from behind officers row. In
the flare, Hamlin thought he saw two
black shadows running. A voice yelled
excitedly: "Post Six! Post Ski"
With single leap the Sergeant was
across the sill, and dropped silently to
the ground. Still blinded by the light
he ran forward, jerking his revolver
from the belt. AS he passed the cor
ner of the barracks the sentry fired
again, the red fash cleaving the night
in an instant's CHASTITY vividness. 1t
revealed a woman shrinking against
the yellow stone wall, lighted up her
face, then plunged her again into OBJ
scurity
The Sergeant caught the glimpse,
half believing the vision a phantasy
of the brain; he had seen her face,
white, frightened, agonized, yet it
could not have been real. He tripped
over the stone wall and half fell, but
ran on, his mind in turmoil, but GER
tain some one was racing before him
down the dark ravine. There had been
woman there! He could not quite
blot that out-but not she; not Molly
Mcdonald. If-if it were she; if he
had really seen her face in the flare,
if it was no dream, then what? Why,
he must screen her from discovery,
give her opportunity to slip away.
This was the one vague, dim thought
which took possession of the man. 1t
obscured all else; it sent him blindly
crashing over the edge of the ravine.
He heard the sentry at his right cry
hoarsely, he heard excited shouts from
the open windows of the barracks;
then his feet struck mans body, and
he went down headlong.
Almost at the instant the sentry was
upon him, a gun-muzzle pressing him
back as he attempted to rise.
"Be still, ye hell hound" was the
gruff order, cor I'll blow yer to king
dom come! Sergeant of the guard,
quick here! Post Number Ski"
Hamlin lay still, half stunned by the
shock of his fall, yet conscious that
the delay, this mistake of the sentry,
would afford her ample chance for es-
cape. He could hear men running to-
ward them and his ewes caught the
yellow, bo5bing light of a lantern. His
hand reached out and touched the
body over which he had fallen, feeling
a military button, and the clasp of a
belt-it was a soldier then who had
been shot. Could she have done it?
Or did she know who did? Whatever
the truth might be, he would hold his