Evening star., 1924-02-24
The Magnificent Adventure
A Stirring Story of the Northwest
BY EMERSON HOUGH.
by D. q
BY EMERSON HOUGH.
CONTINUED from Yesterdays starr
A Stirring Story of the Northwest
tos,y1sht, 1913, By d. Applst.a q Co.,

What Is that you're saying" de.
snanded Patrick Gass IF you've
done that you would be better dead
yourseif"'
4, He reached out, caught Cruzatte's
rife and fiung IT away from, him.
"Where Is he?" he demanded.
Cruzatte- led the way back.
see something move on the
was not elk-it was the captain.
Mon Dicu. what shall we do?"
They found Capt. Lewis sitting up.
propped against rlump OF willows,
his Logging stripped to the thigh. He
the bullet, which had passed through
the limb. At seeing him still alive,
: his men gave a shout Of joy. and
Cruzatse received a parting kick
from his sergeant.
! There were actual tears in the eyes
Of some OF the men as they gathered
taround their commander - fears
whlch touched Merwethcr Lewis
; 1t e ,s 9I right, men, said he DO
| DO not reprove the man too much
The sight of little blood should not
! -roubIe you. We are all soldiers
| This is only an accident of the trail.
and In short time 1t will be mended
see, the bone Is not broken"
! They aided him back to the boats
| ana made a bed upon which he might
iie' hts head propped UP so that he
could see what lay ahead. Other men
| completed the evening hunt. and the
| next day found them nifty miles b-Isw
| the scene of the accident.
| Sergeant" said Meriwether Lewis,
the natural fever of my wound is
! coming on. Give me my little war
| sack yonder-1 must see IL can find
| some medicine"
Gass handed him his bag. of leather
| and Lewis sought in II for a momen mt
| His hand encountered something that
| :rinkled IN the touch--crinkled ia
| niliarly. For orc instant he stopped
his lips compressed as If IN bodily
pain.
1t was another OF the my sterious
| letters!
Before he opened Il, he looked a, IT.;
frowning, wondering. Whence came
hese messages, and how, by whose
! hand? All Of them must have been
written before he left ST. Louis in
Nay Of 1904. Now 1t was August of
ts1e- There was no human agency
| iave carried them. How had they
! .eached him? What messenger had
| brought them? He forgot the fever Of
lfs wound in another and greater
! ever which arose In his blood.
He was with his men now. their
K }
| should he do--cast this letter from
| lin into the river? If he did go, he
/ teit that tt would follow him Inys-
:eriously: pointing to the corpus de-
| iicti Of his crime. still insistent On
| coming to the eye.
| His men, therefore. saw their Lead
/ n casually open a bit or paper. They
| lad seen him do such things a thou
'and times, since journals and maps
were a part of the daily business Of
40 many Of them. What he did at
| tracted no attention.
Capt Lewis would have felt relieved
| had 1t attracted more. Before he
cad any of the words that lay before
i lin in this same delicate handwriting
| that he knew SO we'll, he cast slow
| and searching gaze upon the face of
| every man that was turned toward
! him. In fact, he held the letter mp to
| view rather ostertatiously. hoping
(! hat II would evoke some sign; but
] he saw none. Il:
I He had not been in touch with the
| main party for more than month.
I He. had with him nine men. Which of
! these had secretaly carried the let
ter? was It Gass, Cruzatte. Drouil-
F! lard, Reuben Fields, or McNeai?
! He studied their faces alternately.
| Not an eyelash fiickered. The men
who looked at him We're anxious only
OF guilty knowledge on any Of th-sa
| honest countenanceSs before him, and
he who sought such admitted his own
1 failure. Mertwethcr Lewis lay back
/, on hts couch in the boat, as far as
| ever from his solution of the mystery.
| After all, mere curiosity. as TO the
! nature OF that mystery, was u small
! matter. 1t seemed of more worth to
| feel. as he did, that the woman who
! had planned this system of sur
! prtses for him was one O. no ordinary
/ mind. And it was no ordtr ary woman
l who had written the wG-ds that he
! now read:
/ "Sir and Ny Friend:
! Almost I am IL despair. This is
MY fifth letter; you receive II, per-
! haps. some months after you start. I
| think you would have come back be-
] fore now, X that had been possible.
had no news OF you, and now |
/ dread news Should you still be gone
then I shall know that you were dead.
/ Dead? Yes, have written that word
The swift thought comes to me
that you will never see this at all
l Yet I must send 1t. even under that
chance. must write It. though 1t
ruin all my happiness. Shall it come
TO you too late, others will take it to
! my husband: Then this secret-the
| one secret Of my life-wfll be known.
All. hope this may comet TO your eyes.
tyour living eyes; but should 1t not,
none the less I must write it.
What matter? If it should he read
| by any after your death, that would
| be too late to make any difference
with you. or any difference for me.
After that should not care for any
| thinx-not even that then others
| would know what would none might
ever know save you and my Creator,
SO long as we both still lived.
! This wilderness which you love,
the wilderness to: which you fed for
your comfort--what has it done for
] you? Have you found that lonely
grave which is sometimes the reward
you sleep weu9 shall envy YOU. II
| that is true 1 swear often would
let that thought come to me-of the
| vast comfort of the plains, OF the
mountains-the sweep or the untlrlnS
winds, sweet IN the trees and grasses
or the. perpetual sound OF water
passing by washing out, to the voice OF
its unending murmurs, all memory OF
our trials, of our sins.
! what need move to ask you tn come
| back? What. need to reproach YOU
tany further? How could I--how can
with this terrible thought in my
soul that 1 am writing TO man
" hose eyes cannot see, whose ears
! cannot hear? -
! eyes thus far been blind to me? Have
not YOUR ears been deaf to me, even
when ! spoke to you dtreSt: Ii was
the call OF your country sas against
my, call. Was ever thinking woman
! who could doubt what a strong man
would do? I suppose I ought to have
known. But oh, the longing OF a
woman to feel that she Is something
/! greater in a mans life even than his
! deeds and his ambitions-even than
his labors-even than his patriotism.
''It is hard for US to feel that we are
but puppets In the great game of life,
Of so small worth to any man. How
can we women read their hearts
what do We know of men? I cannot
l @bnyob am married woman.