The midland journal. (Rising Sun, Md.) 1885-1947, 1927-06-17


at disappearing with apparent I'M
concern but with deadly point-"Tm
sorry you're mixed up with that fell
low. But couldn't do thing for
you, if / wanted to--and can't hon
estly say I'm looking to do anything
for that man. They're going to hang
him-and it's almost too good for
him-that, If you want it, Is my hon.
est opinion. But you might go and
talk to the two Cole boys, John and
Abe. IL Abe's alive yet; and to the
transfers. If they're willing to let
him g0"-he shifted again on his feet
II won't say anything
"But, john" she pleaded in heart
breaking tones, IF you won't say any
thing, I'm lost. None of these men
would have any mercy for me; or for
him but to hang him. They have no
hearts, no feeling-you know, might
as we'll go out and beg the stones in
the streets for mercy" A ..a
Selwood stood motionless. N"He
pulled a knife on me in that clinch
tonight" he muttered.
Her plea was so swift. "He was
drinking tonight, 95
"He dragged Christie Fyler out Of
this hotel down to that" Words
could convey no more of hateful, Bit
ter anger than his words carried.
HE was drinking, John--drinking!
And the others were going to burn
the HOTEL was here, l know-and
l went with her to protect her, John.
I went with her! I'd have given up
my life rather than she should come
to harm. thought Of her. thought
Of yOu-"
"My advice to you would be to let
him hang"
She sprang up from her chair, and
clasping one of her bony hands in the
other, at the waist of her worn dress,
stood, dry-eyed, before him. "John,
listen! Have you never done things
you wish you hadn't done?'
He snorted. 81 hope they don't class
me with that"
"You know what whisky will do
to a man"
"For Gods sake, don't blame his
meanness on whisky-whisky's got
enough to answer fort"
Il don't, don't. 7 blame 1t on
myself. When l should have told him
that terrible night to do right. l told
him to do wrong. Pity me! Have a
little mercy for me, John. Think of
the old padre whose picture you kept
here on the wall so long-who has
spent his life forgiving men, helping
them. Oh, I'll pray that you find that
padre, John. If he were here, he
would ask you for the sake of Christ
and His Mother to pity me tonight.
to let Cliff go. Think of Christie,
John. You love her, she loves you.
Would you spare him if she asked
you? I've told her all this. She's in
my room now down the hall. She'll
beg for his life of you this moment
if you'll let her-she told me she
would. She has forgiven him. Oh,
Godw Her words poured out in a
torrent-low, fearless. She sank be-
fore him on her knees. "Tll do any
thing for you you could ask of a
woman, John. I'll pray for you every
day and night of my life. Have pity
on me! Spare him to me for one
more-just one more chance"
She had caught his bandaged hand
in her thin, knotted fingers and COW
cred it with her forehead. He stood
irresolute. wanting to pull it away
and ashamed to-uneasily listening
and thinking A long time he stood.
Then, suddenly, his face darkened.
He jerked himself angrily up.
"What do you want me to do?" He
threw the words at her with a rude
savageness that would have fright
ened another. But Margaret knew
what his words meant. She scram-
bled to her feet and caught his hand
again in her hands, and broke into
a flood of tears. "Oh, l don't know.
l don't know" she sobbed; then she
lifted her streaming face with the ten
der confidence of child. "You will!
know. john"
"St down." he snapped. She
shrank away. From her chair she
only looked her hope and her graft
tude and watched anxiously the play
of his features. Selwood with va
cant expression, took up from the
table Scott's cigarette, put it between
his lips, and slowly felt for match.
"Tm doing something l don't APP
prove Of" he said sulkily. Nobody
else will approve of it, that's cinch.