White Bluffs spokesman. [volume] (White Bluffs, Wash.) 1907-1938, 1931-03-12
CHAPTER v-Continued

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he felt himself struggling as If swim
ming in an empty space. He picked
up his Ratchet and his bow and rose
to his feet. He had not lost sound of
the mill wheel even when Toinette's
sobbing had seemed to be at his side.
It was crying at him now, but before
he turned toward it his eyes rested
on Tonteur's wooden peg. It was half
cut off, mark of grim humor on the
part of butcher. The mill wheel
was forcing his attention to that fact.
ok-look-look"-it said, and then
repeated the old song, calling him an
English beast.
He faced it in flash of resentment,
not because of the wheel alone but on
account Of what lay at his feet and
what he knew he would find nearer to
the walls of the manor. His mind
was hurting anathema at the wheel.
He wanted to tell it that it lied. In
this hush Of death he wanted to cry
out that he was not Of the murderous
breed who had sent the killers. Proof
was over there, in the valley which at
last was we'll named. His mother.
His father. His Uncle Hepsibah. Not
one of them were dead by it's hand.
He had been left alive-by chance.
That was proof. The wheel was
wrong. It lied.
He looked at Tonteur again.
strengthening himself to go a little
farther and find Toinette. He knew
how 1t would be. Toinette's young
body, even more pitiful than his moth
ers. He forced himself to turn toward
the smoldering walls. Toinette-dead!
His father might die, and Tonteur, and
all the rest of the world-but these
two, his mother and Toinette, insep-
arabic in his soul forever, the vital
sparks which had kept his own heart
beating-how could they die while he
lived? He advanced, pausing over one
of the slaves, woman almost un-
clothed, inky black except the top of
her head, which was red where her
scalp was gone. In the crook of her
arm was her scalpless infant. White,
black, women, babies-the loneliness
Of girlhood-it made no difference.
Jeems scanned the earth beyond her,
and where the smoke lay in a white
shroud he saw small, slim figure
which he knew was Toinette. Another
young body might have lain in the
same way, its slenderness crumpled
In the same manner, a naked arm re-
vealed dimly under its winding sheet
Of smoke. But he knew this was
Toinette. The dizzying haze wavered
before his eyes again, and he put out
his hand to hold it back. Toinette.
Only few steps from him. Dead,
like his mother.
Odd went ahead of him halfway to
the still form and stopped. He sensed
something Jeems could not see or feel
through the smoke mist which un-
dulated before their eyes. Warning of
impending danger confronted the dog,
and he tried to pass it to his master.
In that moment, shot came from the
mill, and a flash of pain darted
through Jeems' arm. He was flung
backward and caught himself to hear
echoes of the explosion beating against
the forested hills and the wheel at
the top of the mill screaming at him.
He answered the shot by dropping
his bow and dashing toward the mill.
Death might easily have met him at
the threshold, but nothing moved in
the vaultlike chamber he had entered,
and there was no sound in 1t except
that of his own breath and his racing
heart. Odd went to the flight Of mar
row steps which led to the tower room
and told Jeems that what they sought
was there. Jeems ran up, his Ratchet
raised to strike.
He must have been an unforgettable
and terrifying object as he appeared
above the floor into the light which
forced it's way through the dusty glass
Of three round windows over his head.
There must even have been little
of the monster about him. He HAD
left some Of his garments with his
mother and father, and his arms and
shoulders were bare. Char and smoke
and the stain Of earth had disfigured
him. His face appeared to be painted
for slaughter and greenish fire gilt
tered in the eyes that were seeking
for an enemy. Blood dripped to the