Five Mile Beach weekly journal., 1914-03-20

Adho your uduuS away. LlSlSu."1iS-
teni l can go to the house and send
Uncle Jefferson for the doctor and he
No! stop. I say. Oh-I'm sorry If I
hurt you. How strong you are!"
Let mel"
No! Your lips are not for that
good God, that damnable thingl You
yourself might be-"
1t was my fault. But for me it would
have"
mo! l would rather"
Let me! oh, If you diedi"
With all the force of her strong
young body she wrenched away his
protestant hands. A thirst and a sick
ish feeling were upon him, a curious
irresponsible giddiness, and her hair
which that struggle had brought In
tumbled masses about her shoulders,
seemed to have little flames running
all over 1t. His foot had entirely lost
its feeling. There was a strange weak.
ness in his limbs.
Moments of half-consciousness, or
consciousness jumbled with strange
AhAa6AhAhoo3 "A tAL1Co AO lCAt
the pressure upon the wounded foot,
was sensible of the suction of the
young mouth striving desperately to
draw the poison from the wound.
From time to time he was conscious
of a white desperate face haloed with
hair that was a mist of woven spar
kles. At times he thought himself
a recumbent stone statue in a wood,
and her a great tall golden-headed
flower lying broken at his feet. Again
he was a granite boulder and she a
vine with yellow leaves winding and
clinging about him. Then a blank
a sense of movement and of troublous
disturbance, of insistent voices that
called to him and inquisitive hands
that plucked at him, and then voices
growing distant again, and hands fall
ing away, and at last-silence.
= = =
Inky clouds were gathering over
the sunlight when Shirley came from
Damory Court, along the narrow wood
path under the hemlocks, and the way
was striped with blue-black shadows
and filed with signing noises. She
walked warily, hating often at some
leafy rustic to catch a quick breath
of dread. AS she approached the tree
roots where the cape ~1essamines lay,
she had to force her feet forward by
sheer effort of will. At a little dis
lance from them she broke a stick and
with it managed to drag the bunch to
her, turning her eyes with a SILVER
from the trampled spot neal by. She
picked up the flowers, and treading
with caution, retraced her steps to the
wider path.
She stepped into the Red Road at
length in the teeth of a thunderstorm,
which had arisen almost without warn
ing to break with the passionate in
tensity of electric storms in the South.
There was no shelter, but even had
there been, she would not have sought
it. The turbulence of nature around
her matched, in q way, her over
strained feeling. and she welcomed
the fierce bulge of the wind in the
u%p-blowing whorls of her hair and the
drenching wetness of the rain. She
tried to fix her mind on near things,
the bending grasses, the scurrying red
runnels and tapping ~shrubbery, but
her thoughts wilfully escaped the
tether,, turning again and again to the
events of the last two hours. She pic
tured Unc' Jefferson's eyes rolling up
in ridiculous alarm, his winnowing
arm flashing his indignant mule in his
fight for the doctor.
At the mental picture she choked
with hysterical laughter, then cringed
suddenly against the sopping@ bark.
She saw again the doctors gaze lift
from his first examination of the tiny
punctures to send a swift penetrant
glance at her, before he bent his great
body to carry the unconscious man to
the house. Again a fit of shuddering
swept over her. Then, all at once,
tears came, strangling sobs hat bent
and swayed her. 1t was the discharge
Of the Leyden jar, the loosing of the
tense bow-string and it brought re-
lief. After a time she grew q~uieter.
He would get WE'LL The thought
that perhaps she had saved his life
gave her a thrill that ran over her
whole body. And until yesterday she
had never seer him! She kneeled in
the blurred half-light, pushing her wet
hair back from her forehead and smil-
ing up in the rain that still fell fast.
In a few moments she rose and went on.
At the gate of the Rosewood lane
stood q mail-box on a cedar post and
she paused to fish out a draggled Rich
mond newspaper. AS she thrust 1t un
der her arm her eye caught a word of
a headline. With a flush she tore it
from its soggy wrapper, the wetted
fiber parting in her eager fingers. and
resting her foot on the lower rail of
the gate, spread it open on her knee.
She stood stock-still until she had
read the whole. It was the story of
John Valiant's sacrifica of hia nrivafa