The Glenwood post., 1922-03-23
shaking and choked With soba

Shaking and choked With soba
of a woman. Write to Harry and tell
him that he must not come to see me
again. 1 have promised to marry an.
other man."
81 hope 1t isn't Davis" said Samson.
at Is Davis"
81 don't like him. don't think he's
honest"
But he has been wonderfully kind
to us. Without his help we couldn't
have lived. We couldn't even have
given my father q decent burial"
HAS he been out here to see your
mo"
"And he won't come. That man
knows how to keep out Of danger
don't believe you'll marry him."
-"Why?
Because intend to be 4 father to
you and pay all your debts" said
Samson.
The doctor called from the door of
the cabin.
BIN said: "God bless you and
Harry!" as she turned away to take
up her task again.
That night both Of them began, as
they say, to put two and two together.
While he rode on In the growing dusk
the keen intellect of Samson saw a
convincing sequence Of circumstances
the theft Of the mall sack, the false
account of Harry's death. the failure
20 l. l. lott 20 oh fhntr tina
ton, and the fact that BIN had &C
cepted money from Davis In time Of
need. A strong suspicion Of foul play
grew upon him and he began to con-
slider what he could do in the matter
Having forded creek he caught
the glow of light in the darkness,
a little way up the road. 1t was the
lighted window Of q cabin. before
whose door he stopped his horse and
| hallooed:
81 am a belated and hungry traveller
on my way to Chicago" he said to
the man who presently greeted him
from the open doorway.
Have you come through Honey
Creek settlement the latter asked.
"Sorry, mister, but l can't let you
come into the house. II you'll move OF
Il few feet I'll lay some grub on the
chopin block an up the road about
a half-mile you'll find barn with
some hay in 1t. where you and your
horse can spend the night under
cover"
Go Nd
man brought 4 package Of food and
laid 1t on the block and ran back to
the door,
"I'n lay a piece OF silver on the
block" Samson called.
Not darned cent" the man an
swered. II hate like p'ison to turn 4
feller away in the night, but we're
awful skeered here with children In
the house. Good-by. You can't miss
the barn. It's close ag'in' the road"
Samson ate his luncheon In the dark
ness, as he rode, and presently came
upon the barn and unsaddled and
hitched and fed his horse In one end
Of it-the beast having drunk his fill
at the creek they had lately forded-
with the saddle blanket beneam nm
and his coat for cover. A wind
from the north began to wall and
whistle through the cracks In the barn
and over Its roof, bringing cold wedth.
er. Samson's feet and legs had beeA
wet In the crossing, so that he found
1t difficult to keep warm. He crept
to the side Of his horse, which had
laid down, and found degree Of coIn-
fsrt In the heat of the animal But
II was 4 bad night, at best.
I've had many q long hard night,
but this ia the worst Of them," Sam.
son thought.
There's many q bad night in the
history of the pioneers, Its shadows
falling on lonely, Unmarked roads,
cut by rivers, creeks and marshes and
strung through unnumbered mileG Of
wild country. Samson was mp and
on at daylight In q bitter wind and
SIX inches Of snow. 1t was q kind o.
work he would not have undertaken
upon any call less commanding than
that Of friendship.
He reached Chicago at noon. having
had nothing to eat that day. There
was no such eager, noisy crowd In the
streets a. he had seen before. The
Fever Of speculation had passed. But
there were many people On the main
tneroushfarss. among when wer
Europeans who had arrived the
autumn before. They wsss changing
but the marks Of the yeks were stu
upso thssa. Ia CAieass were TIE
vitals sf the West and they were very
much alive n soits Of H. Denie.