The Greenville journal. [volume] (Greenville, Ohio) 1850-1918, 1915-07-29

swer; and even the unonoHFvant cap
tain of river boats saw that she was
moved and was sorry he had spoken.
In any path of performance there
is but one step which is irrevocable,
namely. the final one, and in Charlotte
Farnham's besetment this step was the
mailing Of the letter to Mr.. Galbraith.
Many times during the evening she
wrought herself up to the plunging
point, only to recoil on the very brink;
and when at length she gave up the
the struggle and went to bed, the
sealed letter was still under her pill.
low.
i Now it is a well-accepted truism that
an exasperated sense Of duty, like
remorse and grief, fights best in the
night watches. 1t was of no avail to
protest that her intention was still
unshaken. Conscience urged, that de-
lay was little less culpable than refus-
al, since every hour gave the criminal
an added chance of escape. The min
utes dragged leaden-winged, and to sit
quietly in the silence and solitude
of the great saloon became a nerve
racking impossibility. When 1t went
past endurance, she rose and stepped
out upon the promenade deck.
The Belle Julie was approach
ing a landing. The electric search
light eye on the hurricane deck
was just over her head, and its great
white cone seemed to hiss as it poured
it's dazzling flood of fictitious MONDAY
upon the shelving river bank and the
sleeping hamlet beyond. Out of the
dusky underglow came the freight car
riers, giving birth to file of grotesQue
shadow monsters as they swung up the
plank into the field Of the searchlight.
The foot plank had been drawn in,
the steam winch was clattering, and
the landing stage had begun to come
aboard, when the two men whose duty
it was to cast off ran out on the fitting
stage and dropped from its shore end.
One of them fell clumsily, tried to rise,
and sank back into the shadow; but
the other scrambled up the steep bank
and loosened the half-hitches in the
wet hawser. With the slackening OF
the line the steamer began to move
out into the stream, and the man at
the mooring post looked around to
see what had become of his com
panion.
Get a move on youse!" beloved
the mate; but instead of obeying, the
man ran back and went on his knees
beside the huddled figure in the
shadow.
At this point the watcher on the
promenade deck began vaguely to un
derstand that the first man was dis
abled in some way, and that the othe1
was trying to lift him. While she
looked, the engine-room bells tangled
and the wheels began to turn. The
mate forgot her and swore out of full
heart.
She put her fingers in her ears tC
shut out the clamor of abusive pro
family; but the man on the bank paid
no attention to the richly emphasized
command to come aboard. Instead, be
ran swiftly to the mooring post, tool
a double turn of the trailing hawsel
around it and stood by until the strain
ing line snubbed the steamers bow t
the shore. Then, deftly casting of
again, he darted back to the disabled
man, hoisted him bodily to the higl
guard, and clambered aboard himself;
all this while McGrath was brushing
the impeding crew aside to get at him
Charlotte saw every move of the
quick-witted salvage in the doing, ant
wanted to cry out in sheer enthusiasm
when 1t was done. Then, in the ligh
from the furnace doors, she saw thu
face of the chief actor; it was the fact
of the man with the stubble beard.
She could not hear what McGratI
was saying, but she could read no
wrath in his gestures, and in the wa!
the men fell back out of his reach
All but one: the stubble-bearded whit
man was facing him fearlessly, and h.
appeared to be trying to explain.
Griswold was trying to explain, bu
the bullying first officer would not lie
him. 1t was a small matter; with tn
money gone, and the probability tha
capture and arrest were deferred onl,
from landing to landing, little abuse
more or less, counted as nothing. Blu
he was grimly determined to keep Nc
Grath from laying violent hands upol
the negro who had twisted his ankl
in jumping from the uptilted landing
stage.
mo; this is one time when yo
don't skin anybody alive!" he retorted
when a break in the stream of abus
gave him a chance. "You let the mai
alone. He couldn't help it. Do yo1
suppose he sprained an ankle purpose
ly to give you a chance to curse hin
out?" ....
The mates reply was a brutal kic
at the crippled negro. Griswold cam
closer.
CTo BE CoNTINUED)