The Dolores star., 1922-05-26

,uistIy established in her fathers nap
Rod smiled with mlschieNous thJuS'
ment: nobody else, TO Peter ; sur
had nnId this extraordinary remark 'ne
slightest attention. He remembered
that he had fancied only the sina''es,
Of these children, and had been Giau
when they all went out OF the room
Looking down at The cabin, the
wears slipped past him Ike hSihs
film. and IL was the present again anu
AIix-AiIx was gone.
He reused himself spoke to the dog
and they went on their way again.
Mud squelched beneath Peters hoots
in the roadway: the dog spranG hshr
lv from clump to clump of dried grass.
But when they left the road, ana cut
straight across the rise of-the hllisiue'
the ground was iiruer and the two hS-
ures moved swiftly through the dark
night. The early stars came out ana
showed them. silhouetted against the
sky above AllX'S beloved Tamalphls'
the mans erect form with its slight
limp. the dog following faithfully, his
plump tail and feathered run showing
dull IuStcr in the starlight.
Cherry, with her violet eyes and
corn-colored hair, Cherry, with her lit
tie hands gathered in his. and her
heart beating against his heart, and
Alix. his Chum. his companion, his
COmrade on so many night walks un-
der the stars-he had lost them both.
But 1t was Alix who was closest to his
thoughts tonight, Allx, the thought Of
whom was gradually gripping his
heart and soul with a new pain.
Allx was his own; Cherry had never
been his own. 1t was for him to com
fort Cherry. 1t had always been his
mission to comfort Cherry, since the
days of her broken dolls and cut fin
gers. But AliN was his own comfort
er, and Alix might have been laughing
and stumbling and chattering beside
him here, in the dark, Wet woods, full
of Il child's happy satisfaction In the
moment and confidence in the NOR
row.
"AliX, my Wife" he said softly,
aloud. 81 loved Chcrry-always. But
you were mine-you We're mine. We
belonged to each Other-fOr better and
for worse-and | have let you go"'
lie went on and on and on. They
were plunging down hill now, under
the trees. He would see light after
while. and sleep for few hours, and
have hunters breakfast, and be gone
again. And he knew that for weeks
for mOnths-perhaps for years, he
would wander so, through the great
mountains, with their snow and theii
forests, over the seas. In strange cities
and stranger solltudes. Always alone,
always moving, always remembering
That would be his life. And some day
some day perhaps he would come
back to the valley she had loved
But even now he recoiled in dis
taste from that hour To see the ia.
miliar faces. to come up to the cabin
again, to touch the music ana the
books
Worse, to find Cherry little older
happy and busy in her life of sacrl
flee, not needing him, not very much
wanting the reminder of the old tragic
times
An owl cried In the woods; ths
mournful sound floated and driftcC
| away into utter silence. Some small
animal, meeting the death its briei
| life had evadcd hundred times
screamed shrilly, and was silent
Great branches, stirred by the nigh
wind, moved high above his head, ant
when there was utter Silence. Pete
could hear the steady, soft rush Of tn,
| ocean, dulled here TO the sound of {
| gigantic, quiet breathing.
Suddenly she seemed again to b,
| beside him. He semed to see the dark