The Emmett index. [volume] (Emmett, Idaho) 1893-1925, 1915-03-11

"a Have No Promises to Take Back"
again into ordinary English and did
not know that he had changed his
manner of speech.
For an instant Sally looked up into
his face. then with sudden laugh,
she informed him:
Il can say isn't instead of hain't,
too. How did you like my writing?"
He held her off at arms length and
looked at her pridefully, but under his
gaze her eyes fell and her face flushed
with a sudden difHdence and a new
shyness of realization. She wore a
calico dress. but at her throat was
a soft little bow of ribbon. She was
no longer the totally unself-conscious
wood nymph. though as natural and in
stinctive as In other days. Suddenly
she drew away from him little, and
her hands went slowly to her breast
and rested there. She was fronting
| a great crisis, but, in the first flush of
! joy she had forgotten it. She had
spent lonely nights struggling for rudi-
| IH6HlSg ouS udu SOuSul anu lOuBul u
refashion herself, so that, if he came,
| he need not be ashamed of her. And
| now he had come and, with a terrible
clarity and distinctness, she realized
! how pitifully little she had been able
to accomplish. Would she pass mus
ter? She stood there before him,
frightened, self-conscious and palpi-
tating, then her voice came in a whis-
per:
Samson, dear, I'm not holdin you
to any promise. Those things we said
were a long time back. Maybe we'd
better forget 'em now and begin all
over again"
But again he crushed her In his
arms and his voice rose triumphantly:
sally, l have no promises to take
back, and you have made none that
I'm ever going to let you take back
not while life lastsi"
Her laugh was the delicious music
of happiness.
ri don't want to take them back"
she said. Then, suddenly. she added,
nCdl ohOCo anu oSONAA
ings now, and I've been to school lit
tie. I'm awfully-awfully ignorant,
Samson, but I've started, and reckon
you can teach me-"
His voice choked Then, her hands
str,.yed up, and clasped themselves
about his head.
"Oh, Samson" she cried, as though
someone had struck her, you've cut
yore ha'r."
1T will grow again." he laughed.
But he wished that he had not had to
make that excuse Then, being hon
est, he told her all about Adrienne Les
cott-even about how, after he be-
lieved that he had been outcast by his
uncle and herself, he had had his mo-
ments of doubt. Now that it was all so
clear, now that there could never be
doubt, he wanted the woman who had
been so true a friend to know the girl
whom he loved. He loved them both,
but was in love with only one. He
wanted to present to Sally the friend
who had made him, and to the friend
who had made him the Sally of whom
he was proud He wanted to tell
Adrienne that now he could answer
her question-that each of them meant |
to the other exactly the same thing;
they were friends of the rarer sort, |
who had for a little time been in dan |
ger of mistaking their comradeship for
passion.
A. Toll SITTING the qftla |
Sally held the rife across her knees. |
Except for their own voices and the
soft chorus of night sounds. the hills
we're wrapped In silence-a silence as
soft as velvet. Suddenly, ia pause,
there came to the girls ears the crack
ing of a twig In the woods. With the
old. instructive training of the noun
tains she leaped noiselessly down. and
for an instant stood listening with
intent ears Then, in low. tense
whisper. as she thrust the gun into
the mans hands, she cautioned:
cit out of sight Maybe they've
done found out we've come back
maybe they're trailin' vel"
With an instant shock she remem-
bered what mission had brought him
back, and what was his peril; and he,
too, for whom the happiness OF the
moment had swallowed up other
things, came back to recognition OF
facts. Dropping into the old wood
craft, he melted out of sight into the
shadow, thrusting the girl behind him,
and crouched against the fence, throw
ing the rife forward, and peering into
the shadows AS he stood there, bal
anclns the gun once more in his