The silver state. [volume] (Winnemucca, Nev.) 1909-1925, 1915-09-28


in the direction of the bridge, ham
mering, voices, and among these lat
ter accents of excitement and of dis
tress.
Hatless, confused, Warne ran down
from the tower. A man rushed from
the direction of the bridge, downward
bound. He shouted to a person scud-
ding by him from the opposite direc-
ton:
Over a hundred killed-it's a fright
full wreck"
After that for nearly a week Warne,
a fugitive, half mad, haunted with
constant terror and remorse. scarce
knew what he did. He had slept while
a train dashing by unsignaled, had
gone down to wreck and ruin! OH
he could figure it all OUT a collision
at the bridge, and his the blame, his
the sinful, wicked fault
Then Canada, to hide far away from
friends and the law, for was he not a
murderer? And Elsiel an anguishing
memory in his heart of hearts.
Coward, craven, poltroon, Ronald
Warne called himself a score of times
because he did not go back and face
the music like a man. Then a rest
less longing for old scenes and back
to a city where he was little known.
All the finer artistic instincts of his
nature we're blunted and inert. Now,
after ~idleness, abject poverty, he had
secured work.
1t was cheap, unworthy labor for a
man of his former attainments-en-
larging photographs In the crayon
line-but it occupied him, it kept the
wolf from the door.
1t was dull, monotonous work, but
there was eve more than he could do.
The lonely room he occupied was a
safe hiding place to which his work
was sent regularly from the firm emf
ploying him.
One day there was a shock. In the
dusk of early evening a yelled lady
was ushered into the poor excuse for
a studio by the landlady.
Mr.. Wayne" spoke the latter.
this is a young lady who sen some
work to your firm and you have it.
She is to leave the city tomorrow,
and wishes to hurry up the order. if
possible"
A great gasp broke from the art.
lists lips as his visitor cast ASIDE her
veil.
1T is a picture of a relative" she
began. and then-"Oh, Ronald"
Yes. fate had thus strangely thrown
Elsie Barker GRO his path again,
for it was she-the same sweet-faced
maiden of old, but richly attired. in
her gentle tones was manifest inter
est, the warmth of genuine friendship,
perhaps something more.
She stood rooted, spellbound. Then
a plying look crossed her face. He
hung his head, self-condemned. She
advanced and took his hand,
Ronald" she said. and her tones
stirred his inmost heart-'what does
it all mean?"
What did it mean?-crime! murder!
He shrank from her, abject and
crushed. In broken tones he qua.
vered his miserable story.
"Oh, why did you not come to
me?'' she cried. 1T was not your
fault. The wreck was on the road that
crosses ours just beyond the bridge
n was caused by one of their own
broken rails. Our trains went through
all right, and even the truth about
my father was not learned. Poor.
dear friend, what have you not suf
fered!"
Innocent a great load was lifted
from Ronald Warne's mind. Like a
child he sank to a chair, like a child
he wept.
Father is no longer with the road"
went on Elsie. Are you not glad
we inherited quite a fortune, and
and"
She paused there. Then their eyes
met. Her face was pleading. ~tell-tale.
When she went away from the dim
studio, she left a kiss upon his lips,
and in his heart-hopei