Williams news., 1922-10-13

pered; but with Corvet lived always the ghosts of those he had watched die with the Miwaka-of those who would have prospered with Stafford ex- cept for what had been done. Cor vet had secretly sought and followed the fate of the kin of those people who had been murdered to benefit him; he found some of their families destroyed; he found almost all poor and struggling. And though Corvet paid Luke to keep the crime from dis closure, yet Corvet swore to himself to confess it all and make such reStt- tuition as he could. But each time that the day he had appointed with him. self arrived, he put 1t off and off and paid Luke again and again. Spear man knew of his intention and some times kept him from it. But Corvet had made one close friend; and when that friends daughter, for whom Cor vet cared now most of all in the world. had been about to marry Spearman, Corvet defied the cost to himself. and he gained strength to oppose Spear man. So he had written to Stafford's son to come; he had prepared for con- feSsion and restitution but, after he had done this and while he waited, something had seemed to break In his brain; too long preyed upon by terrible memories and the ghosts of those who had gone, and by the echo of their voices crying to him from the water, Corvet had wandered away; he had come back, under the name of one of those whom he had wronged, to the lake life from which he had sprung. Only now and then, for a few hours, he had intervals when he remembered all i; in one of these he had dug up the watch and the ring and other things which he had taken from Captain Stafford's pockets and written to himself directions of what to do with them, when his mind again failed.
 And for Spearman, strongs against all that assailed Corvet, there had been always the terror of the Indian Drum the Drum which had beat short for the Miwaka the Drum which had known that one was savedI That story came from some hint which Luke had spread. Corvet thought; but Spear man, born near by the Drum, believed that the Drum had known and that the Drum had tried to tell; all through the years Spearman had dreaded the Drum which had tried to betray him. So it was by the Drum that, in the end, Spearman was broken.
 The priests voice had stopped, as Alan slowly realized; ne nearu ohei- rill's voice speaking to him.
 ''It was a trust that he left you, Alan: I thought it must be that a trust for those who suffered by the | loss of your fathers ship. I don't know vet how 1t can be fulfilled; and we must think of that
 That's how understand It," Alan | said.
 Through the tumult in his soul he | became aware of physical feelings again. and of Sherrill's hand put upon | his shoulder in a cordial, friendly | grasp. Then another hand, small ana firm, touched his, and he felt It's warm tightening grasp upon his fingers; he looked up, and his eyes filled and hers, | he saw, were brimming too. | They walked together, later in the day. up the hill to the small. white house which had been Caleb Stafford's. | The woman who had come to the door | was willing to show them through the house; 1t had only five rooms. One | of those upon the second floor was | so much larger and pleasanter than | the rest that they became quite sure l that 1t was the one in which Alan had been born, and where his young l mother soon afterward had died
 The woman, who had showed them about, naQ gone CO dhoIhcA AoonA &AAN | left them alone.
 "There seems to have been no pic1 ture of her and nothing of hers left | here that any one can tell me aoout | but" Alan choked, Its good to be | able to think of her as I can now.
 "I mean-no one can say anything | against her now"
 Alan drew nearer her, trembling q can never thank you-I can never
 tell you what you did for me- hehev- | ing in-her and in me, no matter now | things looked And then, coming up
 here as you did-for mel!
 | "Yes, it was for you, Alan!
 | Constance He caught her. She
 let him hold her.
 | The woman was returning to them
 now and, perhaps, it was as well
 for not yet, he knew, could ne asK
 her all that he wished; what had hap
 pened was too recent yet for that. But
 to him. Spearman-half mad and flee
 ing from the haunts of men-was be-
 ginning to be like one who had never
 been; and he knew she shared this
 feeling. The light in her deep eyes
 was telling him already what her an-
 swer to him would be; and life
 stretched forth before him full of love
 and happiness and hope.
 THE END.1
 | Natures Changes.
 | Tbo ooStarn sIoOe of the Rockies