Evening public ledger. [volume] (Philadelphia [Pa.]) 1914-1942, 1919-02-08
CHAPTER xxIv-(Continued)

|
"A bunk in which Pierre lay. Philip ar
preached and turned the WICK higher
and then he gazed in wonder upon tn
TRANSPORTATION In the half.breed'
face. Pierre had died with a smiI
on his lips; and with O curious thicl
ening in his throat Philip though
that those lips, even in death, wer
curved in the act of whispering
Jeanne's name.
And Philip, brokenly, said aloud:
God bless you, Pierre, old mani"
He lifted the cold hands back, an,
gently drew the covers which had hid
den the telltale stains of death from
Jeanne's eyes. He turned down Pi
erre's shirt, and in the lamp-glow ther
glistened the golden locket. For tn,
first time he noticed 1t closel..
was half as large as the palm Of hi
hand, and very thin, and he saw tha
It was bent and twisted. A shudde
ran through him when he understoo,
what had happened. The bullet tina
had killed Pierre had first struck tn,
locket, and had burst It partly open
He took 1t in his hand. And then h,
saw that through the broken side there
protruded the end of a bit of paper
For brief space the discovery made
him, almost forget the presence o.
death. Pierre had never opened the
locket because II was of the old-fash'
ioned kind that locked with key, ant
the key was gone. And the locket hat
been about Jeanne's neck when he
found her out in the SHOWS! Was Il
| possible that this bit of paper had
something to do with the girl hi
loved?
Carefully, so that It would not tear
he drew it forth. There was writing
on the paper, as he had expected. and
he read 1t, bent low beside the lamp
The date was nearly eighteen years
old. The lines were faint The words
were these:
My Husband-God can never undo
what have done. T have dragged
myself back, repentant, loving you
more than I have ever loved you in
my life. to leave our little girl with
YOU She is your daughter and
mine. She was born on the eighth
day Of September. the seventh
month after left Fort O. God. She
is yours. and so bring her back to
you, with the prayer that she will
help to I'LL the true and noble heart
that / have broken. I cannot ask
your forgiveness, for l do not de-
serve it. 1 cannot let you see me.
for 1 should kill myself at your
feet. / have lived this long only for
the baby. / will leave her where
you cannot fail to find her, and by
the time you have read this 1 will
have answered for my shiny mad
ness. IL you can in charity regard
it so. And if God is kind will
hover about YOU always. and you'
will know that in death the old
sweetheart, and the mother, has
found what she could never again
hope for in life.
YOUR WIFE.
Philip rose slowly erect and gazed
down into the still, tranquil face OF
Pierre, the half-breed.
why didn't you open it?" he whis-
pered. "Why didn't you open 1t? My
God, what it would have saved"
For a full minute he looked down
at Pierre. as though he expected that
the white lips would move and an.
swer him. And then he thought of
Jeanne hurrying to Fort O. God and
of the terrible things which she was
to reveal to her father that night.
She was D'Arcambal's own daughter.
What pain-what'agony Of father and
child he might have saved if he had
examined the locket little sooner!
He looked at his watch and found
that Jeanne had been gone three
hours. 1t would be impossible to over
take MacDougall and the girl unless
something had occurred to delay them
somewhere along the trail. He hur.
ried back into the little room, where
he had left Cassidy. In a few words
he explained that it was necessary for
him to follow Jeanne and the engineer
to DArcambal House without mo-
ments delay, and he directed Cassidy
to take charge Of camp affairs and to
send Pierre's body with a suitable
escort the next day.
ut isn't necessary for me to tell
you what to do" he finished. you
understand"
Cassidy nodded Six months before
he had buried his youngest child under
a big spruce back of his cabin.
Philip fastened to the stables, and,
choosing one of the lighter animals.
was soon galloping over the trail
toward the Little Churchill. In his
face there blew q cold wind from Hud-
sons Bay, and now and then he felt
the sting of fine particles in his eyes.
They were the presage Of storm. A
shifting of the wind little TO the east
and south, and the fine particles would
thicken and turn into snow. BY MORN
ing the world would be white. He
came into the forests beyond the plain,
and In the spruce and the cedar tops
the wind was half a gale, filing the
night with wailing and moaning
sounds that sent strange shivers
through him as he thought of Pierre
in the cabin.
In such way, he imagined, had the
north wind swept across the cold
barriers on the night that Pierre had
found the woman and the babe; and
now 1t seemed, in his fancies, as
though above and about him the great
hand that had guided the half.breed
then was bringing back the old night,
as IL Pierre, in dying, had wished 1t
SO. For the wind changed. The fine
particles thickened, and changed to
snow. And then there was no longer
the wailing and the moaning in the
tree.tops, but the soft murmur of a
white deluge that smothered him In a
strange gloom and hid the trail. There
were two canoes concealed at the end
of the trail on the Little Churchill, and
Philip chose the smallest. He followed
swiftly after MacDousall and Jeanne.
He could no longer see either side of
the stream, and he was filled with q
fear that he might pass the little creek
that led to Fort o. God. He timed
himself by his watch and when he
had padded for two hours he ran In
close to the west shore, travelling SC