The herald-advance. (Milbank, S.D.) 1890-1922, 1915-05-28

I shouldn't want them % know. Dyo3
s'pose l could?"
Their eyes met doubtfully. 1T
would be a week." Shelby was less
jubilant. But see here, Bill" sum
moning all his own buoyancy and en-
thusiasm, you can, and you must, and
you SHALL"
Ripton caught up tho air of unsuc-
cess that had partially slipped from
him. "A weeks a long time-for me-"
A thought loosed again the drab dra-
perry. shelby, dispose" lowering his
voice, shed be there? She married
n Of the boys"
who? Oh! the belle? She Of the
slim waist and the simmer ankles?"
George said Ripton, in his voice
a touch of gentle dignity new to his
friend, we'll just not m~ention-her
ankles. They don't among my
kind"
Shelby buried his amusement and
his smart, to follow eagerly in the
wake of this CHARGE straw. She'll be
there. The women are great on re-
unions. Bet you'll find her on the
train" He rose. "Oh, you're going
all right, old man. See you tomorrow
about fixing you out"
As they walked the platform, wait
ing for the train to pull in, his quiet
suit and plain tie according well with
his iron-gray hair, Ripton looked the
part of a prosperous country gentle
man, albeit one with a touch Of sport
ing blood, as was evidenced in the gay
border of his handkerchief. Not his
the and the uncertainty.
His bearing was dignified, his tread
firm, and more noticeably accented on
the right foot, as became one who was
going back to keep sep with the
boys Back farther yet, to things in
herited and conventional.
Shelby, who, for the last few weeks.
had in turn steadied him, sopered him,
cajoled, fiattered, browbeat and in
spired him, poured every ounce Of his
oWn vigorous will into the others
vacillating temperament, found him
self undistanced, unable to approach
this quiet, self-contained man by
whose side he trotted, and was dimly
aware that the change was inward as
well as outward. His last words OF
counsel and pleading Glove to his
tongue as he gazed helplessly at his
" handiWork. Perplcxity wrote,
her beady sign across his forehead.
He could only rasp out, as he helped
his friend mount the steps: mot q
drop, not a drop, mind"
Understanding what the other would
do for him, Ripton wrung his fat
clammy hand and, as the train pulled
out, carefully replaced the gay hand
kerchief with a white one, its r. fas-
tidiously arranged t o view.
Three days passed. Thursday Shelby
surreptitiously hung around the sta
ton. Friday he met the trains openly
and took the bar-room crowd into his
confidence. "Bet Bits full" they
staggered. "of the spirit of 'G1."
Martial sounds hurried him to the
main street. There they came-a big
flag leading, another down the line.
the beginning and the end of all Me-
mortal days. Two rode in front, the
horse of one ~refractorily impatient Of
the bands big, booming drum; the
little girls, clad in white and bearing
wreathes; the local boys brigade; the
long line of carriages, ~noticeably few
or than last May, with their precious.
sad remnants; the young men of the
Spanish war; the bands; and, in the
rear, as in the van, the flag whose
stars had been kept intact.
Shelby scanned the faces in the car
riages; once il sudden hope because
Of a wave Of the hand. 1t was an