Courier Democrat. (Langdon, N.D.) 1891-1920, 1918-04-18

I" 1uuCly CONSTRUCTOR nut WITH 8
mate, a lively genial young fellow
about his own age. They messed at
n of the big eating sheds, but slept
IN the ten-by-twelve shack with a mar
rUw fireplace and some skins for bed
covering. Ned Walters strove hard to
break through the reserve of his mate.
And at last he succeeded. Gradually
Edison became so that he longed for
n cherished the companionship. Ned
Walters told of a wife and little child,
whom he had been forced to leave to
seek work where he could find it. He
had Landed up against the hard servi-
tude of the logging camp. Once a
month he sent to the nearest post Of
flee with the camp messenger his en-
tire salary, to be forwarded to the
loved ones at home. One day he sat
reading and rereading a letter he had
received from his wife. 1t seemed to
Cypress him greatly.
bad news" insinuated Edison In
sympathetic inquiry.
pretty bad" responded Walters.
you see, our few sticks of furniture
were m%ortgaged, and they are bringing
the pressure of collection to bear. |
can't send enough to run the house and
release the debt"
Twill that help?" asked Edison, hand
ing over his pay envelope.
Eyes, but"
Money is no use to me. I have no
home, no friends to send it to-" mur
INJURED Edison in a broken voice. "You
are welcome to it, mate"
ut will be repaid, believe me that 7"
cried Walters, overcome with relief
and joy.
One month later Edison Worth was
taken down with a two-weeks' spell of
fever. Walters nursed him constantly.
When Edison recovered, Walters in
formed him that a relative of his wife
had come to the rescue of the family
and had secured an opening for work
for him back in his home city.
"You will receive back that money
you so generously loaned me just as
soon as 1 get my bearings" promised
Walters.
1t was pretty lonesome for Edison
after this chance friend left him,
Then one day he made a discovery that
unsettled him greatly. On a strip of
paper lying under the bed he observed
penciled %notatiOns, his WI name, that
of the station he had deserted an. the
| namo of AToric. npp+lor
Edison tried to fig:.-e out the mean
ing of this. The handwriting was that
of Walters. Suddenly his mind was
illumined. In his fevered delirium he
had barred all the story of the past,
and Walters had it in mind to investi-
gate it when he returned to civiliza-
ton. No matter what kindly motive
might impel him, there was danger of
his setting the emissaries of the law
upon his track.
Cowardly fear oppressed the forlorn
refugee. He decided to leave the
camp. The first sledge over to War
renton, the nearest post, Edison .as a
passenger. There was no train for
t~wenty-four hours. The little station
was free to all. He slept upon one of
its benches that night, got his break
fast outside and then sat down in the
station again to wait for the train.
Edison had dozed. Only himself and
the depot agent were in evidence. He
aroused at the sound Of the ticking of
the telegraph instrument. Then he
sat bolt upright like one turned to
stone, for the message came over the
| wires:
cat any expense learn at once if a
nan calling himself Mark Lane is still
at the logging camp" And the sender
of the message-oh! he could not mis-
take that peculiar telegraph touch
was Marie Duntley! His senses reeled,
he doubted the evidence of reason.
What could it mean? She, his love,
the fond spirit of all his dreams way
up here at lands end, and seeking
him! Only love, loyal love, could bring
about this situation. Edison staggered
to the window of the little Office.
"That WIRE" he spoke in an unsteady
tone-"from Bassville?"
"Yes. What's the matter, friend"
II am the person inquired about.
Wire back that I will be at Bassville
or the next train"
What was he rushing into? Upon
| what vague menacing fate? What was
he to meet? Marie, only Marie!
And, joy and rapture and love in her
radiant face, she greeted him twelve
| hours later.
"My poor dead! my suffering, DESC
late love-" she sobbed. "Your friend,
Mr.. Walters, came to me, and I left
everything to bear to you the tidings Of
wonderful happiness"
"The wreck at the bridge"
"Not Merrivale bridge, on our line,
but one hundred miles away. You
slept at your post and misconstrued
it all. Close your eyes and put your
face close to mine, heart of my heart,
for whom l have pined and pinned, and
loved, and then a little prayer, a fer
vent word of gratitude, that the dark