Pocahontas star herald., 1915-02-12

mere q game OF give an take.
'hgt Martin was q soft an gentle
kind, an you beat him at pretty near
everything Finally you beat him out
for the woman he loved as only the
tender heart OF him could love, an
that sent him wandering on his lonely
quest Tor peace.
whether twas peace or strength
he iaund..i don't know, an now ney.
O. VIII know 4uJ ho was oomiug
home. You know he was CeUlgE gD'
whether you feared en- hated h.u I'M
never know Hrt gI,hrr but son met
lln-ag yog .H.a En /fUa1 Go
tuf. con ..sIH .r u.-lu.l.egr. lWsr
l-H .he .l
40 4 bear .aa oamiIE9 Listen. p
hate .Hn ..E sou breathe .l a1
Hgal sen #..E en- hgIr .Hr
dau.a g.H Hg.. la me ia5l vga u.-
I1l brHal h.n alvagr, an then T1a
killed h'H. aH. q hrsr rog ul laa ao8l
ol un ..Egr w.I hatred C ggu an gI
ygI brother ia. 81 VIII Ul lhe ggl
oi me '.rdH
Tia. night tho ra[t snow lart itself
la la. wul misery al TaIu-druaeaat lur.
faces Oh il Fa.n,g lsiel 10 cover lho
hauh outlines OK thlnEs, and black
thguEhta were stirred ia the mind OF
Tim OguFun by The distorted mem
cries OF tho years.
The Bgxt morning Tom Clarkson
was found On the northwest corner Of
the fJiFhtyard, u thin film OF snow
jewelIuF the blackness Of his clothes
and glazing his face
Il was the chief who found him
his brother. lie was sitting on the
ground. propped against a iat.car
wheel. his head thrown back and his
dead eyes staring into space, as though
anxiously following the flight 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 stin gloves from the
stiff fingers, trying, with something OF
hysteria. to ehafe life back into the
loved hand. Then he ripped open
oyercoat. 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'CuTran. the yardmaster Al the
sight Of Il the black vengeance died
from the heart OF Tim O'Curran like
a 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 that
God would end his grief and remorse
with annihilation. Tenderly Clark
son let the stiffening form rest against
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 TO
the lifeless clay, from which he knew
the life had gone six hours before.
"Twas 7 cruel deed" he muttered.
"'Twas cruel deed" but his fast.
falling tears would not warm back the
life his own hand had taken. Together
they carried him TO The freight shed.
The O'Curran and the Clarkson plots
were side By side, and two days later
they laid him beside thC man whom he
had sent on the journey 30 short a
while before him.
But The sri-it OF tragedy still hov.
cred over the freishtyard Of San An
dora, for Tim O'CuTau knew that this
Mas not the end Of the fCud.
with bent head he STOOD by his
brothers grave and fought the matter
out with bis soul.
At length he found strength for the
resolve ha would make.
"'Twas a cruel vengeance / took for
the life Of you, Martin" he muttered,
"but us the grief Of the living an not
the ghost Of the dead that has haunted
me ever a.1ce-the grief OF the woman
your true heart loved an the grief Of
the strong man that ! saw Ike a little
child I can feel the love an the ache
OF his heart. for did ] not feel it for
yourself An now his Is added to my
OWL.
"'TwCs q cruel an g-uscl1ss .fCud,
made IN my own mind as &c is borne
On my own rcr-', en- us myself only
can end dI. So VIII go 10 Jil Clark
son On = WIN gsy.
E,v pity has eaten tho heart out
Of my rcvcaGc, brt 'is by the mercy
Of God. SO nov, end the feud, but DO
Sc by the way OF the law, an so gain
case for your grief an rest for my
soul"
He knelt for a moment by the grave,
then, arising, turned to go, and, bright
or than the moonlight, looking into his
own were the eyes Of Jim Clarkson.
Snow began to slft through the still
air. For an eternity they stood and
stared into each others eyes. Finally