The silver state. [volume] (Winnemucca, Nev.) 1909-1925, 1917-08-28
SEARCH FOR THE NEEDLE
BY A. w. PEACH.


As the little woman left the post
office. Marshal gazed after her with
interested and curious eyes. During
the week he had spent in the small
village he had happened to come for
his mail at a regular time each day,
and each time he had heard the wom-
an ask if there was mail for her. 1t
was her manner as she asked n a
aroused Marshal's interest.
Marshal stepped to the window. As
/ the clerk ran through the mail, Mar
shall said in a casual way, Il have seen
disappointed people, but that little lady
who lust left here acts as if she had
been sentenced when you tell her she
has no mail. Anything peculiar about
herr"
The clerk nodded his head. Yes, she
has been coming to this window for
twenty-five years. She expects a letter
from a chap who left here, so they tell
me, to make his fortune in the West.
He vanished and no letter has come
from him. She is a little off, l guess,
but she's harmless"
Gathering up his mail, Marshal went
to the country hotel. The white
headed proprietor was perfectly will
ing to talk the matter over. Sure"
said he, 81 know the whole thing. She
was as pretty a little thing as you ever
see, and she was dead in love with
Clarke Sherman and he with her-as
far as we could tell. Then he got the
idea that the place vas too small for
him-you know how the young fellows
often iceland away he went. / guess
she heard from him for three years
he was doing fine-so he said. Then
came silence. All sorts of yarns went
around, you know; but she held her
head right up, l tell you. Then she
got a clipping from some cheap news
paper out West telling about an acci-
dent he had been in, and with the clip
ping was a letter from a friend of his,
saying that he had died since the &C
eident. 1t threw her off her head, l
guess, for since then she's been going
to the post Office just the same"
1t was like searching for a needle in
a haystack, Marshal knew, to seek out
a man by the name of Clarke Sher-
man, for there were many in the world
but Marshal made up his mind to look
up the man If his business brought him
near the town. The opportunity came
a few months later. Marshal planned
to make sure that If Clarke Sherman
were living he would know what one
mar thought Of him
His first question after arriving In
a Nevada town was asked of the hotel
clerk, but the latter shook his head.
"Never heard of anybody round here
by that name-hold on, perhaps some
of the old fellows know"
An "old fellow" called from the
front of the hotel, smoked slowly.
"Why-er-yes, there was sech a chap
lived out Butte way, but l guess he's
been dead an gone for twenty years"
Marshal was in despair, and was
about to give up the foolish search,
when the man who had been speaking
POihlCO W u LllH lnulfluudl dCIOSS the
street. "There goes a fellow named
Seeker from out that way-p'rhaps he
knows something about him."
Crossing over, Marshal hailed him
and made known his desire. The mans
eyes were keen and crafty, and
Marshal did not like them, nor did he
like the mans answer.
mo, sir, there's no one out there
now by that name. Clarke Sherman
was killed in an accident"
Afterward as he thought the matter
over, the antagonism in the mans atti-
tude made Marshal suspicious. 81 be-
lieve, just for the deuce Of 1t, I'll motor
out that way"
Early in the afternoon Of the next
day he reached a rundown, ram
shackle place which his guide told him
was Seekers home. Marshal raped
on the door. There was no sound. He
stepped in-and stopped.
On a shabby couch lay a man, so
emaciated he seemed in the last stages
Of existence. His eyes were closed.
"Does Clarke Sherman live here?'
Marshal asked.
He bent to catch the faint whisper.
"Why-yes-I am-Clarke Sherman
yes.'
"Did Won ovar knom a Mer+bo