Connecticut western news., 1919-10-02

hO O1 WOuLu into the more personal affairs of his
 heart, or of the woman who had been his wife, and even when the talk
 turned on the boy he quickly withdrew 1t to another topic, as though the sub
 tect were dangerous or distasteful. But
 once, after long silence following such
 a diversion, had he betrayed himself into a whispered remark, an outburst
 of feeling rather than a communica- ton.
 i've been alone so much" he said. Tt seems I have never been anything but alone. And-sOoner or later-it gets you-it gets you."
 doctor.
 "No," he answered, almost fiercely. "That would be different. I could stand it then. But haven't got him, and can't get him. He despises me because-because I take too much at times" He paused as though wonder ing whether to proceed with this un- wonted confidence, but the ache in his heart insisted on it's right to human sympathy. "No, it ain't that" he con- tinued. 'He despises me because he thinks wasn't fair to his mother. He can't understand. I wanted to be good to her, to be close to her. Then I took to booze, as natural as a steer under the brandin'-iron roars to drown his hurt. But the boy don't understand. He despises me-" Then, after a long silence: "No matter. I despise my self"
 The doctor placed a hand on his shoulder. But Elden was himself again. The curtains of his life, which he had drawn apart for moment, he whipped together again rudely, almost viciously, and covered his confusion by plunging into tale of how he had led a breed suspected of cattle-rustling on a little canter of ten miles with rope about his neck and the other end tied to the saddle. 'He ran well," said the old man, chuckling still at the reminis- cence. And it was lucky he did. It was strong rope"
 The morning after Dave had brought in the borrowed saddle Irene appeared in a sort of bloomer suit, somewhat wonderfully contrived from a spare skirt, and announced a willingness to risk life and limb on any horse that Dave might select for that purpose. He provided her with dependable mount and their first journey, taken somewhat gingerly along the principal trail, was o0nnpoT1ichn6 o0 xxyifhnr1t irai1nnt x1roc the forerunner of many others, plung- ing deeper and deeper into the fast nesses of the foothills and even into the passes of the very mountains them selves. His patience was infinite and, although there were no silk trappings to his courtesy, it was very genuine and manly difference he paid her. She, was quite sure that he would at any moment give his life, if needed, to de- \ fend her from injury-and accept the transaction as matter of course. his physical endurance was ineAnauS,ibie and his Knowledge or prairie and foot hill seemed to her almost uncanny. He read every sign of footprint, leaf, wa ter and sky with unfailing insight. He had no knowledge of books, and she had at first thought him ignorant, but as the days went by she found in him a mine of wisdom which shamed her readymade education.
 After such ride they one day dis mounted in grassy opening among the trees that bordered mountain canyon. Tn aroxf0o ao &bo% gave comfortable seating and here they rested while the horses browsed their afternoon meal on the grass above. Both were conscious of a grad ually increasing tension in the at- mosphere. For days the boy had been moody. It was evident he was harbor- ing something that was calling through his nature for expression, and Irene knew that this afternoon he would talk of more than trees and rocks and foot prints of the wild things of the forest.
 "Your father is getting along well," he said, at length.
 'Yes," she answered. "He has had a good holiday, even with his broken leg"
 1Ou Will De go1n away before long," he continued.
 "Yes," she answered, and waited.
 'Things about here ain't goin' to be the same after you're gone," he went on. He wore no coat, and the neck of his shirt was open, for the day was warm. Had he caught her sidelong glances, even his slow, self-deprecating mind must have read their admiration. But he kept his eyes fixed on the green water.
 'You see," he said, "before you came it was different. I didn't know what I was missin', an so it didn't matter. Not but what I was dog-sick of it at times, but still I thought I was livin'- thought this was life, and, of course, now know it ain't. At least, it won't be after you're gone"
 "Thats strange" she said, not in direct answer to his remark, but as a soliloquy on it as she turned it over in her mind. "This life, now seems