The Lakeland evening telegram. (Lakeland, Fla.) 1911-1922, 1915-02-15

stlll the feud.
DO bear you enmity? Listen! l
hate the air you breathe an the
ground you walk on. hate the
clothes you wear an the food you eat.
You bested him always, an then you
killed him, an hate you till the soul
OF me aches with hatred Of you an Of
your brother. An 30 will TIL the end
Of the feud." ..bs..,~
That night the soft snow lost itself
in the wet misery Of rain-drenched sur
faces as it vainly tried to cover the
harsh outlines Of things, and black
thoughts were stirred in the mind of
Tim O'Curran by the distorted mem
cries Of the years.
The next morning Tom Clarkson
was found In the northwest corner of
the freightyard, thin film Of snow
jeweling the blackness Of his clothes
and glazing his face.
1t was the chief who found him
his brother. He was sitting on the
ground, propped against a fiat-car
wheel. his head thrown back and his
dead eyes staring into space, as though
anxiously following the fight of his de-
parted spirit.
An ugly dent marred the fine out
line of his forehead, brutally Sufficient
for its murderous purpose.
The chief dropped onto his knees
and ripped the stiff gloves from the
stir fingers, trying, with something OF
hysteria, to chafe life back into the
loved hand. Then he ripped open
overcoat, coat, vest, and shirts-but
beyond the cold flesh the heart was
still forever.
The crunching Of heavy footsteps
aroused him, and he turned the agony
of his strong face to the eyes OF Tim
O'Curran, the yardmaster. At the
sight of it the black vengeance died
from the heart Of Tim O'Curran like
small fire of hate before a deluge OF
pity. The sorrow Of the grief-strick'
en- man leaped straight to the sorrow
Of O'Curran's own grief-stricken heart
The quickened memory of his own
anguish wrapped itself around the
anguish Of his enemy and bound him
closer than kin or love.
He ran forward, white as the dead
face, and in his heart he wished tina,
God would end his grief and remorse
with humiliation. Tenderly Clark
son let the stiffening form rest agains,
the wheel and arose.
THE yeggmen have got him. Tim,
he said hoarsely, grateful for the pale
sympathy Of O'Curran's face. O'Cur
ran, in desperate hope. bent down t.
/, the lifeless clay, from which he knew
the life had gone six hours before.
"'Twas . cruel Decd" he muttered
"Twas q cruel deed" but his fast
falling tears would not warm back thu
life his own hand had taken. Togethe
they carried him to the freight shed.
The O'Curran and the Clarkson plot
were side by side. and two days late
they laid him beside the man whom h
had sent on the journey 80 short
while before him.
But the spirit Of tragedy still hov
cred over the freightyard Of San An
dora, for Tim O'Curran knew that Thu
was not the end of the feud.
With bent head he stood by hi
brothers grave and fought the matte
out with his soul.
At length he found strength for tn
resolve he would make.
"'Twas . cruel vengeance took TO
the life Of you, Martin" he muttered
but It's the grief Of the living an no
I.the ghost Of the dead that has haunte'
me ever since-the grief Of the woma
your true heart loved, an the grief Q
the strong man that saw like a littl
child. can feel the love an the ach
Of his heart, for did I not feel It 70
yourself. An now his Is added to m
own.
"'Twas q cruel an senseless feut
made in my own mind as 1t Is born
in my own heart, an tbs myself onl
can end 1t. So will go to Jim Clarl
son an I will say:
"'My pity has eaten the heart on
Of my revenge, but It's by the nero
Of God. So now, end the feud, but d
it by the way Of the law, an 80 gal
) ease for your grief an rest for m
SOUL"
He knelt for q moment by the grav'
then. arising, turned to 60, and, brigh
er than the moonlight. looking into hi
own were the eyes Of Jim Clarkson.
) Snow began to sift through the sti
.. air. For an eternity they stood an
stared into each others eyes. FINAL
Clarkson spoke.
$50 It was you who killed my brotl
. err" he said.
"Jim," said O'Curran, 81 was Graz
J with grief for the poor boy comm
home. As for the dead, Jim, It's but
) little Fastening on the road; but Il
yourself my heart has broken itse
, over your sorrow, an my spirit hs
) brooded over yours as mother tr
/. ing to comfort q child, and twas II
Y punishment Of God that could 81,
3 you no comfort. So now. take me, a
end the feud an ease your grief"
v 81 will end the feud," said Clarksc
t quietly. pity has eaten the heart Of
o of my revenge, too. and over thei
e graves let us end the feud."
With wonderful gentleness he toe
d the hand of O'Curran. The snow fe
= softly, white and clinging. as Il
t benson Of heaven.
t A lady had friend who called
see her one day, accompanied by b
:, poodle. On the way they met an q