The public ledger. [volume] (Maysville, Ky.) 1913-1968, 1916-03-27


against whom she now harbored a bit
terness on quite a different plane OF
feeling from her former repulsion.
Even TO his first glance she looked an
older and q harder woman.
81 am sorry to see you" she said.
II almost bate the sight Of you. You
have been the ruin OF my SON"
His rulnT
Come round" continued Mrs. Mel.
win austerely. II will see you. You
shall hear what you have done"
In another minute he was In the par
Tor where he had sat aforetime.
us he ruinedT' asked stlngaree.
Not irrevocably; not yet, but he may
be any moment. He must be before
long"
"But-but what ais him, madam"
~ remember. Yes; | understand
He was mad aboUt-Stingaree."
1T is madness now" said the bitter
mother land you are to blame for the
tale you told him"
He is Stlngaree in his heart" she
went on, "Stingaree In his dreams. II
Is as debasing a form Ms mental and
temperamental weakness could well
take; yet | know. who watch over
him half the night lie has an eye
glass. He keeps revOlvers. lie has
even bought white mare! lie can
took extremely like the portraits one
has seen OF the wretched man. But
onrna xn,tkh 49,. s,t,o ,,anvnanN
She took the lamp and led the way
into the little room where oswald Mel
win slept. He had slept in It from that
boyhood In which the brave woman
had opened this sort Of shop entirely
for his sake.
But Stingaree saw only the little bed
that had once been far too large, the
Bible still by its side, read or unread,
the parents portraits overhead. The
mother was looking In an opposite d.
rection. He followed her eyes, and
there at the foot, where the infatuated
fool could see 1t last thing at night and
irst in the morning, was an enlarged
photograph Of the bushranger himself.
And he had posed on the spot with
eyeglass up aud pistols pointed, as
he saw himself now, not less than q
quarter life size, in a great gaudy
frame. But while he stared Mrs. Mel
vim had been rllmmaging In a drawer,
and when he turned she was staring
in her turn with CLASSY eyes. In her
hands was an empty mahogany case
with velvet moulds which ought to
have been filed by a brace of missing
revolvers.
HE kept It locked! He kept them
in itT she gasped. HE may have done
It this very night"
Done whatr'
"stuck up the Denillquin mail. That
is his maddest dream"
Sdngaree was heavy for a moment
with a mental calculation.
"A dream It shall remain" said be.
But there's not q moment to lose.
will cure him. But must go at once.
have a horse not far away"
God bless your
Leave him to me-"
His hands were In a lady's hands
once more. Stingaree withdrew them
gently, and he looked his last into the
brave wet eyes raised gratefully to his.
The villain worshiper was indeed
duly posted in a certain belt Of trees
through which the coach route ran,
about halfway between the town and
the first stage south. 1t was not his
first nocturnal visit to the spot. He
was feverishly expecting the coach
when a patter OF hoofs smOte his ear
from the opposite quarter.
Stingaree swept through the trees at
a gallOp, the milk white mare flashing
In the moonlit patches. At the sight
OF her Oswald was convulsed with a
premonltion as to who was coming.
His heart palpitated as even his heart
had never done before, and yet he
would have sat irresolute, inert and
let the man pass as he always let the
coach had the decision been left to
him. The real milk white mare af-
fected the imitation in It's turn as the
coach horses never had, and Oswald
swayed and swan upon a whinnytng
steed.
II thought you were Stingareep
what II ami"
"But you're not. You're not half
smart enough. You can't tell me any.
thing about Stingareew
He put his eyeglass up with an air.
Stngaree put up his.
"You young fool! You've thought |
your soul into a pulp on the subject, |
and you must give It up" said Stin-
garee sternly.
Oswald sat aghast
'But how ON earth did you knowT"
"I've come straight from your moth |
err. You're breaking her heart"
"But how can you have come straight |
from herr"
1--WE come down for another melo- |
ieOn. I've got to have one. too"
Oswald Melvin now knew his drunk |
en- whim driver for what he had really |
been.
THE yarn | told you about myself |
was true enough" continued Stinga-
rec, "only the names were altered, |
as they say. II happened to the 9th,
er fellow, not TO me. made It hap
pen. He il hardly likely to have lived
10 tell the tale"
ibid he really try to betray you aft
.r what you'd done for himP
more or less. He looked on me as
'air game"
But you had saved bis llfeT''
I'VE rode across him."