The Connecticut labor press., 1920-09-18


 him, will you not, MT. Connell?" asked the girl, looking earnestly at Lafe. As their eyes met Lafe realized suddenly that her agitation had more than an impersonal cause behind it. The swift knowledge came home to him with a shock; it cleared up many things, among them the fogs of rancor that had clouded his mind.
 "I'll do everything that's in my pow CT, Mademoiselle," he said. "I'll stand by him-Tll fight for him if there's any fighting"
 "There will be none," said Father Lucien. ''But Mademoiselle Rosny understands now what Brousseau is. She knows his character and his evil mind. And she has learned, fortunate ly, before it is too late."
 Not another word was spoken. The buggy descended the hill and rolled to- ward St. Boniface. As it crossed the rickety bridge they heard the sound of distant shouting in DuvaPs saloon. About the front of it was gathered the entire male population of St. Bonfface, gesticulating and chattering.
 They fell back in dismay as the cure leaped from the buggy and assisted Madeleine Rosny down. Lafe fol- lowed. He tried to urge the girl to re- main in the rig, but she paid no atten- tion to him. She listened with anxious intentness as the cure addressed the crowd, her lips compressed, her bosom rising and falling quickly. All eyes were fixed on Father Lucien, but each, as the priest turned to him, tried to shrink back behind his neighbor.
 They were pointing inside the sa- loon. The cure hurried through the doorway, Madeleine Rosny immediate ly behind him, and Lafe following them. The saloon, though 1t by an oil lamp, was empty. as seemed to be the dark stable beyond it, seen through the open doorway.
 Father Lucien snatched down the lamp and carried it hastily toward the stable door. He raised it and looked in, then turned and tried to bar Made leine from entering. But she pushed past him, saw, cried, wrung her hands, and ran into the middle space between the rows of stalls. Lafe, following her, saw her seated upon the floor, and Hilary, covered with blood, lying stretched out and motionless, his head in her lap. She bent over him and Lafe never forgot the look of anguish in her eyes, or the tension of the white face.
 Still supporting Hilary's head, she began tearing long strips off her petti- coat, frantically, as if she hardly knew what she was doing. Hilary's clothing was so drenched with blood that it was difficult to determine where the wound lay. There were livid bruises about his mouth and cheeks, and on his forehead, as if his assailants, after stabbing him, had kicked him.
 Father Lucien half turned him over and, uttering an exclamation, pointed to the shoulder, from which fresh blood was slowly yelling. Lafe saw that Hilary was alive; he breathed very faintly, but his face was the color of death, more bloodless than that of Madeleine. The cure began. cutting away the coat, then the lining, which would not come with it; then the shirt. He looked up.
 fBring some water" he said.
 Lafe hurried out, the few curious lumbermen scattering in panic and scurrying before him. As he stood among them, shouting, a window in nearby house went up, and a woman handed out a pail, three parts full. Lafe took it. AS he re-entered the shanty the crowd slowly gathered be- hind him again. He hurried into the C&o %p{r off girls petticoat. dipped it in the pail and began to cleanse the wound, purs- ing his lips and shaking his head the while. Lafe could see that the wound, while not long, was terribly deep, and it was still bleeding. It was impossi- ble to do more than clean it superf- cially, owing to the need for haste. Having done this, Father Lucien made a pad and placed it in position, while