The midland journal. (Rising Sun, Md.) 1885-1947, 1926-07-23

cabin door and cut into the day. The
cold air struck her face; 1t filed her
lungs with new strength: and without
thought of where hope might lie she
ran through the snow into the forest.
McTaggart appeared at the door
just In time to see her disappear. His
leg was torn where Baree had fas-
tened his fangs, but he felt no pain
as he ran in pursuit of the girl. She
could not go far. An exultant cry,
inhuman as the cry of beast, came
in a great breath from his gaping
mouth as he saw that she was stag
gering weakly as she fled. He was
halfway to the edge of the forest when
Baree dragged himself over the thresh-
old. His jaws were bleeding where
McTaggart had kicked him again and
again before his fangs gave way.
Halfway between his ears was
scared spot, as If red-hot poker had
been laid there for an instant. This
was where McTaggart's bullet had
gone. A quarter of an inch deeper,
and 1t would have meant death. AS
1t was, 1t had been like the blow Of
heavy club, paralyzing his senses and
sending him limp and unconscious
against the wall. He could move on
his feet now without falling, and slow
ly he followed in the tracks of the
man and the girl.
AS she ran, Nepeese's mind became
Ill % oln nd hn
turned into the narrow trail over
which McTaggart had followed her
once before, but just before reaching
the chasm, she swung sharply to the
right She could see McTaggart. He
was not running fast, but was gaining
steadily, as If enjoying the sight of
her helplessness, as he had enjoyed
it in another way ON that other day.
Two hundred yards below the deep
pool into which she had pushed the
Factor-just beyond the shadows out
of which he had dragged himself to
safety-was the beginning Of Blue
Feathers gorge. An appalling thing
was shaping itself in her mind as she
ran to it-a thing that with each
gasping breath she drew became more
and more great and glorious hope.
At last she reached it and looked
down.
And as she looked, there whispered
up out Of her soul and trembled on her
lips the swan-song of her mothers
people.
Our fathers-come!
Come from out of the valley.
Guide us-for today we die.
And the winds whisper of death!
She raised her arms. Against the
white wilderness beyond the chasm
she stood tall and slim. Fifty yards
behind her the Factor from Lac Balm
stopped suddenly in his tracks "Ah,"
he mumbled. us she not wonderful !"
And behind McTaggart, coming faster
and faster, was Baree.
Again the Willow looked down. She
was at the edge, for she had no fear
in this hour. Many times she had
chung to Pierrot's hand as she looked
over. Down there no one could fall
and live. Fifty feet below her the
water which never froze was smashing
itself into froth among the rocks. 1t
was deep and black and terrible, for
between the narrow rock walls the
sun did not reach It, The roar Of 1t
filled the Willows ears.
She turned and faced McTaggart.
Even then he did not guess, but
came toward her again, his arms
stretched out ahead of him. Fifty
yards! 1t was not much, and shorten
ing swiftly.
Once more the willows lips moved.
After all, it is the mother soul that
gives us faith to meet eternity-and
1t was to the spirit Of her mother
that the Willow called in the hour of
death. With the call on her lips she
plunged into the abyss, her wind
whipped hair clinging to her in
glistening shroud.