The Snowflake herald., 1922-07-14

not think that was so; but do you
want to tell me why you thought it?"
"Yes; l will tell YOU" She colored
quickly. zone Of the last things Mr..
Corvet did--in fact, the last thing we
know of his doing before he sent for
you-was to come to me and warn me
against one of my friends"
"Warn you, Miss Sheriff.? How? I
mean, warn you against what"
Against thinking too much Of him."
She turned away.
81 think I'll come to see your father
in the morning." Alan said, when Con-
stance looked back to him.
"But you'll come over here for
breakfast in the mOrningT
"You want met"
Certainly"
''Pd like to come very much"
"Then I'll expect you." She followed
him to the door when he had put on
his things, and he made no objection
when she asked that the man be al
lowed to carry his bag around to the
other house.
When he had dismissed Simons and
re-entered the house on AStor street,
he found no evidences of any disturb
ance while he had been gone. On the
second floor, to the east of the room
which had been his fathers, was
bedroom which evidently had been
kept as a guest chamber; Alan carried
his suitcase there and made ready for
bed.
The sight Of Constance Sheriff.
standing and watching after him in
concern as he started back to this
house, came to him again and again
and, also, her flush when she had
spoken of the friend against whom
Benjamin Corvet had warned her.
Who was he? 1t had been impossible
at that moment for Alan to ask her
more besides, If he had asked and she
had told him, he would have learned
only a name which he could not place
yet in any connection with her or with
Benjamin Corvet. Whoever he was, 1t
was plain that Constance Sheriff.
Thought Of him." lucky man, Alan
said to himself. Yet Corvet had
warned her not to think of him. :.
Alan turned back his bed. 1t had
been for him tremendous day. Bare
ly twelve hours before he had come to
Rapids, Kan, now phrases
from what Lawrence Sheriff. had told
him of his father were running
through his mind as he opened the
door of the room to be able to hear
any noise in Benjamin Corvet's house,
of which he was sole protector. The
emotion reused by his first sight of the
lake went through him again as he
opened the window to the east.
Now-he was in bed-he seemed to
be standing, specter before man
blaspheming Benjamin Corvet and the
souls of men dead. "And the hole
above the eyel The bullet got
you! So it's you that got Ben
I'll get you! You can't
save the Miwaka !"
The Miwaka! The stir Of that name
was stronger now even than before; it
had been running through his con-
sciousness almost constantly since he
had heard it. He jumped up and
turned on the light and found pencil.
He did not know how to spell the
name and 1t was not necessary to
write 1t down; the name had taken on
that definiteness and ineffaceableness
of a thing which, once heard, can
never again be forgotten. But. In
panic that he might forget, he wrote
it, guessing at the spelling-"Miwaka."
1t was a name, Of course; but the
name of what? 1t repeated and re-
peated itself to him, after he got back
into bed, until Its very iteration made
him drowsy.
Outside, the gale whistled and
shrieked. The wind, passing its last
resistance after It's sweep across the
prairies before it leaped upon the lake,
battered and clamored in it's assault
about the house. But as Alan became
sleepier, he heard 1t no longer as 1t
ratified the windows and howled under
the caves and over the roof, but as out
on the lake, above the roaring and Ice
crunching waves, 1t whipped and cir
cled with Its chill the ice-shrouded
sides Of struggling shiIS. So, with the
roar of surf and gale In his ears. he