Mi
hampton
f PLACE
4r AA1VMLL PAJWISiiMrmOfJZ
'HI5T0MLLM5.f'C
Coeyvcsr nx fly a csftrupc fro.
mi v 1 i k.vv i
him. the long lashes shadowing the
expression of her lowered eyes. In
uplte of deep prejudice she felt Im
pelled to like this man; he accom
plished thlnps. and he didn't talk.
It was nothing more serious than a
bard and toilsome climb after that, a
continuous struggle testing every mus
cle, straining every sinew, causing
both to sink down again and again,
panting and exhausted, no longer stim
ulated by imminent peril. The narrow
cleft they followed led somewhere
away from the exposed front of the
precipice, yet aroe steep and jagged
before them. It was bridged finally by
a cedar- trunk, which Hampton
wrenched from out Its rocky foothold,
and the two crept cautiously forward,
to emerge where the sunlight rested
golden at the summit. They sank face
downward In the short grass, barely
conscious that they had finally won
their desperate passage.
Slowly Hampton succeeded in up
lifting his tired body and his reeling
head, until he could sit partially up
right and gaze unsteadily about. The
girl yet remained motionless at his
feet, her thick hair, a mass of red gold
in the sunshine, completely concealing
her face, her slender figure quivering
to sobs of utter exhaustion. Before
them stretched the barren plain,
brown, desolate, drear, offering in all
its wide expanse no hopeful promise
of rescue. With hand partially shad
ing his aching eyes from the blinding
glare, ttie man studied Its every ex
posed feature, his face hardening
again Into lines of stern determina
tion. The girl stirred from her posi
tion, flinging back her heavy hair
with one hand, and looking up into his
face with eyes that read at once his
disappointment.
"Have have you any water left?"
she asked at last, her lips parched and
burning as if from fever.
He shook the canteen dangling for
gotten at his side. "There may be a
few drops," he said, handing it to her,
although scarcely removing his fixed
gaze from off that dreary plain. "We
fhall be obliged to make those trees
yonder; there ought to be water there
in rlenty, and possibly we may strike
a trail."
There was nothing more said be- j
tween them. Like two automatons, j
they started off across the parched
grass, the heat waves rising and fall- j
ing as they stumbled forward. Neither i
realized until then how thoroughly I
that hard climb up the rocks, the j
strain of continued peril, and the long ,
abstinence from food had sapped their j
strength, yet to remain where they ;
were meant certain death; all hope j
found its center amid those distant j
beckoning trees. J
No one can explain later how such i
deeds are ever accomplished; how the !
tortured soul controls physical weak- i
ness. and compels strained sinews to
perform the miracle of action when
all ambition has died. Hampton sure- !
ly must have both seen and known, for
he kept his direction, yet never after- j
wards did he regain any clear memory I
of it. j
CHAPTER IV.
On the Naked Plain. !
It was 218 miles, as the crow flies, j
between old Fort Bethune and the
rock ford crossing the Bear Water,
every foot of that dreary, treeless
distance Indian-haunted, the favorite
skulking place and hunting ground of
the restless Sioux. Winter and sum
mer this wide expanse had to be sus
piciously patroled by numerous mili
tary scouting parties, anxious to learn
more regarding the uncertain where
abouts of wandering bands and the
purposes of malcontents.
Cue sucn company, composed of a
dozen mounted infantrymen, accom
panied by three Cree trailers, rode
slowly and wearily across the brown
exposed uplands down into the longer,
greener grass of the wide valley bot
tom, until they emerged upon a barely
perceptible trail which wound away In
snake-like twistings, toward those
high, barren hills whose blue masses
were darkly silhouetted against the
western sky. The animals moved
steadily forward, reluctant and weary,
their heads drooping dejectedly, their
distended nostrils red and quivering,
the oily perspiration streaking their
dusted sides."1 The tired men, half
blinded by the glare, lolled heavily in j
their deep cavalry saddles, with en- !
crusted eves staring moodily ahead. i
Riding alone, and slightly in ad
vance of the main body, his mount a
rangy, broad-chested roan, streaked
with alkali dust, the drooping head
telling plainly of wearied muscles, was
the officer in command. He was a
pleasant-faced, stalwart young fellow,
with the trim figure of a trained ath
lete, possessing a square chin smooth
ly shaven, his intelligent blue eyes
half concealed beneath his hat brim,
which had been drawn low to shade
them from the glare, one hand press
ing upon his saddle holster as he
leaned over to rest. No in sign a of
rank served to distinguish him from
those equally dusty fellows plodding
gloomily behind, but a broad stripe of
yellow running down the seams of his
trousers, together with his high boots,
besioke the cavalry service, while the
front of his battered campaign hat
bore the decorations of two crossed
sabers, with a gilded, "7" prominent
between. His attire was completed by
a coarse blue shirt, unbottoned at the
throat, about which had been loosely
knotted a darker colored silk handker
chief, and across the back of the sad
dle was fastened a uniform jacket, the
single shoulder strap revealed pre
senting the plain yellow of a second
lieutenant.
Attaining to the summit of a slight
knoll, whence a somewhat wider vista
lay outspread, he partially turned his
face toward the men straggling along
in the rear, while his hand swept
across the dreary scene.
"If that line of trees over yonder
indicates the course of the Bear .Wa
ter, Carson," he questioned quietly,
"where are we expected to hit the trail
leading down-to the ford?"
The sergeant, thus addressed, a lit
tle stocky fellow wearing a closely
clipped gray moustache, spurred his
exhausted horse into a brief trot, and
drew up short by the officer's side, his
heavy eyes scanning the vague dis
tance, even while his right hand was
uplifted in perfunctory salute.
"There's no trail I know about along
this bank, sir," he replied respectfully,
"but the big cottonwood with the dead
branch forking out at the top is the
ford guide."
They rode down in moody silence
Into the next depression, and began
wearily climbing the long hill opposite,
apparently the last before coming di
rectly down the banks of the stream.
As his barely moving horse topped the
uneven summit, the lieutenant sudden
ly drew in his rein, and uttering an
exclamation of surprise, bent forward,
staring intently down In his immedi
ate front. For a single instant he ap
peared to doubt the evidence of his
own eyes; then he swung hastily from
out the saddle, all weariness forgotten.
"My God!" he cried, sharply, his
eyes suspiciously sweeping the bare
slope. "There are two bodies lying
here white people!"
They lay all doubled up in the coarse
grass, exactly as they had fallen, the
man resting face downward, the
slender figure of the girl clasped vice
like in his arms, with her tightly
closed eyes upturned toward the glar
ing sun. Never once questioning but
that he was confronting the closing
scene of a grewsome tragedy, the thor
oughly aroused lieutenant dropped
upon his knees beside them, his eyes
already moist with sympathy, his anx
ious fingers feeling for a possible
heart-beat. A moment of hushed,
breathless suspense followed, and then
he began flinging terse, eager com
mands across his shoulder to where
his men were clustered.
"Here! Carson, Perry, Ronk, lay
hold quick, and break this fellow's
clasp," he cried, briefly. "The girl
retains a spark of life yet, but the
man's arms fairly crush her."
With all the rigidity of actual death
those clutching hands held their tena
cious grip, but the aroused soldiers
wrenched the interlaced fingers apart
with every tenderness possible in such
emergency, shocked at noting the ex
pression of intense agony stamped
upon the man's face when thus ex
posed to view. The whole terrible
story was engraven there how he
had toiled, agonized, suffered, before
finally yielding to the inevitable and
plunging forward in unconsciousness,
written as legibly as though by a pen.
Carson, who in his long service had
witnessed much of death and suffer
ing, bent tenderly above him, seeking
for some faint evidence of lingering
life. The anxious lieutenant, bare
headed under the hot sun-glare, strode
hastily across from beside the uncon
scious but breathing girl, and stood
gazing doubtfully down upon them.
"Any life, sergeant?" he demanded,
his voice rendered husky by sympathy.
"He doesn't seem entirely gone, sir,"
and Carson glanced up into the offi
cer's face, his own eyes filled with
feeling. "I can distinguish just a wee
bit of breathing, but it's so weak the
pulse hardly stirs."
"What do you make of it?"
"Starving at the bottom, sir. The
only thing I see now is to get them
down to water and food."
The young oScer glanced swiftly
about him across that dreary picture
of sun-burnt, desolate prairie stretch
ing in every' direction, his eyes paus
ing slightly as they surveyed the tops
of the distant cot ton woods.
"Sling blankets between your horses,"
he commanded, decisively. "Move
quickly, lads, and we may save one of
these lives yet."
As if by some magic discipline the
rude, effective litters were rapidly
made ready, and the two seemingly
lifeless bodies gently lifted from off
the ground and deposited carefully
within. Down the long, brown slope
they advanced slowly, a soldier grasp
ing the rein and walking at each
horse's head, the supporting blankets,
securely fastened about the saddle
pommels, swaying gently to the meas
ured tread of the trained animals. Be
neath the protecting shadows of the
first group of cottonwoods, almost on
the banks of the muddy Bear Water,
the little party let down their sense
less burdens, and began once more
their seemingly hopeless efforts at. re
suscitation. A fire was hastily kin
dled from dried and broken branches,
and broth was made, which was forced
through teeth that had to bo pried
open. Water was used unsparingly,
the soldiers working with feverish
eagerness, inspired by the constant ad
monitions of their officer, as well as
their own curiosity to learn the facts
hidden behind this tragedy.
It was the dark eyes of the girl
which opened first, instantly closing
again as the glaring light swept into
them. Then slowly, and with wonder-
- &
The recumbent figure lying a few
yards away half lifted itself upon one
elbow, and Hampton's face, white and
haggard, stared uncertainly across the
open space. For an Instant his gaze
dwelt upon the crossed sabers shield
ing the gilded "7" on the front of the
lieutenant's scouting hat. then settled
upon the face of the girl. With one
hand pressed against the grass he
pushed himself slowly up until he sat
fronting them, his teeth clinched tisht.
his gray eyes gleaming feverishly in I
their sunken sockets.
"I'll be damned if you will!" he sulci. I
hoarsely. "She's my girl now." ,
MUCH
"Now Miss. Just Take a Sip of This."
ment, she gazed up into those strange,
rough faces surrounding her, pausing
in her first survey to rest her glance
on the sympathetic countenance of the
young lieutenant, who held her half
reclining 'upon his arm.
"Here," he exclaimed, kindly, inter
preting her glance as one of fear, "you
are all right and perfectly safe now,
with friends to care for you. Peters,
bring another cup of that broth. Now,
miss, just take a sup or two of this,
and your strength will come back in
a jiffy. What was the trouble? Starv
ing?" She did exactly as he bade her,
every movement mechanical, her eyes
fastened upon his face.
"I I reckon that was partly it," she
responded at last, her voice faint and
husky. Then her glance wandered
away, and finally rested upon another
little kneeling group a few yards far
ther down stream. A look of fresh in
telligence swept Into her face.
"Is that him?" she questioned, trem
blingly. "Is is he dead?"
"He wasn't when we first got here,
but mightly near gone, I'm afraid.
I've been working over ycu ever
since."
She shook herself free and sat weak
ly up, her lips tight compressed, her
eyes apparently blind to all save that
motionless body she could barely dis
tinguish. "Let me tell you, that fel
low's a man, just the same; the
Earnest, nerviest man I ever saw. I
reckon he got hit, too, though he never
said nothing about it. That's his
style."
The deeply interested lieutenant re
moved his watchful eyes from off his
charge just long enough to glance in
quiringly across his shoulder. "lias
tne man any signs of a wound, ser
geant?" he asked, loudly.
"A mighty ugly slug in the shoulder,
sir; has bled scandalous, but I guess
it's the very luck that's goin' to save
him; seems now to be comin' out all
right."
The officer's brows knitted savagely.
"It begins to look as if this might be
some of our business. What hap
pened? Indians?"
"Yes."
"How far away?"
"I don't know. They caught us in
a canyon somewhere out yonder, may
be three or four days ago; there was
a lot killed, some of them soldiers. My
dad was shot, and then that night he
he got me out up the rocks, and he
he was carrying me in his arms when
I I fainted.' I saw there was blood
on his shirt, and it was dripping down
on the grass as he walked. That's
about all I know."
"Who is the ' man? What's his
name?"
The girl looked squarely into the
lieutenant's eyes, and, for some rea
son which she could never clearly ex
plain even to herself, lied calmly. "I
don't know; I never asked."
Sergeant Carson rose stiffly from
his knees beside the extended figure
and strode heavily across toward
where they were sitting, lifting his
hand in soldierly salute, his heels
clicking as he brought them sharply
together in military precision.
"The fellow is getting his eyes open,
sir," he reported, "and is breathing
more regular. Purty weak yit, but
he'll come round in time." He stared
curiously down at the girl now sitting"
up unsuppsrted, while a sudden look
of surprised recognition swept across
his face.
"Great guns!" he exclaimed, eagerly,
"but I know you. You're old man Gil
lis' gal from Bethune, ain't ye?"
"Yes," she acknowledged simply,
"but he's dead."
"Never mind, little girl," the lieu
tenant said, with boyish sympathy. "I
knew Gillis, and, now the sergeant has
spoken, I remember you quite well.
Thought all the time your face was fa
miliar, but couldn't quite decide where
I had seen you before. So poor old
Gillis has gone, and you -are left all
alone in the world! Well, he was an
old soldier, could not have hoped to
live much longer anyway, and would
rather go fighting at the end. We'll
take you back with us to Bethune, and
the ladies of the garrison will look
after you."
CHAPTER V.
A New Proposition.
To one in the least Inclined toward
fastidiousness, the Miners' Home at
Glencaid would scarcely appeal as a
desirable place for long-continued res
idence. But such a one would have
had. small choice In the matter, as it
chanced to be the only hotel there.
The Miners' Home was unquestionably
unique as regards architectural de
tails, having been constructed by sec
tions, in accordance with the rapid
development of the camp, and enjoyed
the further distinction there being
only two others equally stylish in
town of being built of sawn plank,
although, greatly to the regret of its
unfortunate occupants, lack of season
ing had resulted in wide cracks in
both walls and stairway, while strict
privacy within the chambers was long
ago a mere reminiscence. Without
the Miners Home'pflfup a good front,
and -was iu reality the most preten
tious structure gracing the single clut
tered street of Glencaid. Directly
across the street, its front a perfect
blaze of glass, stood invitingly the
Occidental saloon, but the Widow Guf
fy, who operated the Miners' Home
with a strong hand, possessed an an
tipathy to -strong "Jiquor, which suc
cessfully kept all suspicion of intoxi
cating drink absent from those sacred
ly guarded precincts, except as her
transient guests imported it internally.
Mr. Hampton during the course of
his somewhat erratic career had pre
viously passed several eventful weeks
in Glencaid. He was neither unknown
nor unappreciated at the Miners'
Home, and having on previous occa
sions established his reputation as a
spender, experienced little difficulty
now in procuring promptly the very
best accommodation which the house
afforded. That this arrangement was
accomplished somewhat to the present
discomfort of two vociferous eastern
! tourists did not greatly interfere with
his pleasurable interest in the situa
tion. "Send those two fellows in here to
argue it out," he said, languidly, after
listening disgustedly to their loud la
mentations in the hallway, and ad
dressing his remarks to Mrs. Guffy,
who had glanced into the room to be
again assured regarding his comfort,
and to express her deep regret over
the unseemly racket. "The girl has
fallen asleep, and I'm getting tired of
hearing so much noise."
"No, be hivings, an' ye don't do
nuthin of thet sort, Bob," returned the
widow, good-naturedly, busying her
self with a dust-rag. "This is me own
house, an" Oi've tended ter the loikes
I them sort er fellers afore. There'll
be no more bother this toime. Be
soides, it's a paceful house Oi'm run
nin', an' Oi know ye'r way of sittling
them things. It's too strenurous ye
are, Misther Hampton. And what did
ye do wid the young lady, Oi make
bould to ask?"
Hampton carelessly waved his hand
toward the rear room, the door of
which stood ajar, and blew a thick
cloud of smoke into the air, his eyes
continuing to gaze dreamily through
the open window toward the distant
hills.
"Who's running the game over at
the Occidental?" he asked, profession
ally. "Red Slavin, bad cess to him!" and
her eyes regarded her questioner with
renewed anxiety. "But sure now,
Bob, ye mustn't think of playin yit
awhoile. Yer narves are in no fit
shape, an' won't be fer a wake yit."
He made no direct reply, and she
hung about, flapping the dust-rag un
easily. "An what did ye mane ter be doin
wid the young gyurl?" she questioned
at last, in womahlycurfosTty.
Hampton wheeled about on the
hard chair, and regarded her quizzing
ly, "Mrs. Guffy," he said, slowly,
"you've been a mother to me, and it
would certainly be unkind not to give
you a straight tip. Do? Why, take
care of her, of course. What else
would you expect of one possessing
my kindly disposition and well-known
motives of philanthropy? Can it be
that I have resided with you, off and
on, for ten years past without your
ever realizing the fond yearnings of
my heart? Mrs. Guffy, I shall make
her the heiress to my millions; I shall
marry her off to some eastern nabob,
and thus attain to that high position
in society I am so well fitted to adorn
sure, and what else were you ex
pecting, Mrs. Guffy?"
"A loikely story," with a sniff of dis
belief. "They tell me she's old Gillis'
daughter over to Bethune."
"They tell you, do they?" a sudden
gleam of anger darkening his gray
eyes. "Who tell you?"
"Sure, Bob, an' thet's nuthin ter git
mad about, so fur as I kin see. The
story is in Iverybody's mouth. It wus
thim sojers .what brought ye in thet
tould most ov it, but the lieutenant,
Brant of the Seventh cavalry, no less,
who took dinner here afore he wint
back after the dead bodies, give me
her name."
"Brant of the Seventh?" He faced
her fairly now, his face again haggard
and gray, all the slight gleam of fun
gone out of it. "Was that the lad's
name?"
"Sure, and didn't ye know him?"
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Special Agent for the Middle-west, 359 East 64th St., Chicago, III.
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Sellers of Good Clothes.
J
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1H
