Greenfield Evening Republican, Greenfield, Hancock County, 28 June 1895 — Page 4

At 1:30 m. sharp the

Rtinning Race—Free-for-all,

Slow Mule

quired

IScorcher, 21 lbs., $85.

..

OFFICIAL

4TH

FOR TH E=

GELEBEATION

Six salutes fired at sunrise. Procession formed at Cours House square at 9:30 a. m. to be escorted to the Pair Grounds by the Redmen's Cornet Band. —AMERICA.

Address of Welcome— By Hon. George W. Duncan. Address—HON. JAMES E. M'CULLOUGH, Indianapolis. Reading of the Declaration of Independence—By Hon Charles G. Offutt. Reading Washington's Farewell Address—By William A Song—-STAR SPAFGLED BANNER."

DINNER.

sport bfgins.

Bicycle Race—For the championship of Hancock county, $10,00, cash or merchandise. 1st, s?5 2nd, f'3 3rd, $2. Bicycle Race -For boys under 16 years of uge, half mile dash, for championship Hancock county. Purse, *5.00. 1st, $3,30 2nd, $1.50 3rd, $1, cash or merchandise.

FARMERS HITCH UP RACE—With two horse wagons and farm wagons, speed horses barred. Half mile dash. No attendant. Purse, 10.00, 1st, $5 2nd, J3 3rd, $2.

All entries must be made by 10 a. m. July 4. No entry fee charged. The management reserves the right to declare any or all races off on account of darkness or bad weather.

STAY FOR THE FIRE WORKS.

Address all communications to

CHAS. DOWNING, HARRY STRICKLAND. President. Secretary.

Gojd Agents wanted in every town. INDIANA BICYCLE CO., 111ft Indiflri3polis, Ind

Hou:?h.

Race—Purse. $5,00 to winner. Persons making entries in the race

will be required to exchange mules uuder the directions of the committee. Slowest mule wins the race. Goose Race—The goose will be suspended over the track. Each rider will be re­

to go in a gallop. The man that gets the goose without breaking the wire

gets $5 Foot Race—Free for all, 100 yards dash. Purse, $6 00. 1st, $3 2nd, $2 3rd, $1. Old Men's Foot Race—65 years and over. Purse, $6.00. 1st, $3 2nd, $2,3rd, $1.

Fat Men's Foot Race—To measure 48 inches or more around the girth. 100 yard dash. Purse, $6 00. 1st, $8 2nd, $2 3rd. $1. Race FOR GREASED PIG, DONATED BY Wtf. TOLLEN & CO., for boys 16 years and under. Butchers and employees barred. The one that catches the pig and pnts him in the box, gets the pig.

Greased pole climb for a $20 00 watch, donated by L. A. Davis, Jeweler, for toys 16 years and under. Wheel Barrow Race—25 yard dash, for colored men only, blindfolded. Purse, $5.00. 1st, $2 50 2nd, $1 50: 3rd, $1.

Sack Race—For boys 16 years and under Purse, $5,00. 1st, $2.50 2nd, $1.50 3rd, $1. LADIE3 HITCH UP RACE—For ladies over 17 years. Each lady is allowed a gentleman attendant. Harness with snaps on lines and holdbacks. Road wagons preferred. All horses trained for speed barred. Nothing lj»t gentle horses will be allowed in the race and to be kept down to their natural gait. Each attendant will hold the horse and harness in readiness, but any other assistance or directions from them will bar the lady from the race. At the word, they will harness, hitch up and drive around the track. First in gets $5 2nd in, $3 3rd, $2.

YOUNG LADIES HITCH UP RACE—16 years and under, conditions same as above. Purse, $10,00. 1st, $5 2nd, $3 3rd, $2. GENTLEMEN'S HITCH UP RACE—Free-for-all, half mile dash, speed horses baTred, no attendant, four wheel vehicles. Purse, $10,00, 1st, $5 2nd, $3 3rd, $2.

mile heat. Purse,

half mile dash. Purse, $15.00. 1st, $8 2nd, $5.00

3rd $2 'Pony Rice—Under U}4 hands high, half mile dash. Purse $12.00. 1st. $6 2nd, $4 3rd, $2.

Fast Mu'e Race—Half mile run. $5.00 to the winner.

OERLER IN

$UPLI£$

Mt BRICK

8Y

&

ICYGLES.

AREITHE

HIGHEST OF ALL HIGH

GRADES.

Warranted Superior to any Bicycle built In the World, regardless of price. Built and guaranteed by the Indiana Bicycle Co., a Million Dollar corporation, whose bond is as good as gold. Do not buy a wheel until you have seen the WAVERLY.

Catalogue FVee.

MARY. HALLOCK FOOTZ. [Copyright, 1S95, by Mary Hallock Foote.j

CHAPTER X.

A young girl's mood seldom keeps the balance between joy and pain it will lean, witli all the emotional force of her crescent life, alternately to one extreme or the other. Cecil's brief calendar of years had counted no vigil like that of the night before it was but natural there should be a strong recoil from such intolerable pain. She did not feel the reaction until long af£er her tryst with Hilgard was over. Her timid joy in that contract was not quick to assert itself. It grew with solemn gladness in the quiet hours and met with its warm, strong current the bitter waters that had spread in the watches of the night, laying waste her pride of life. Her pride was prostrate still, but love can do much to heal the wounds of youthful pride.

Cecil walked, with noiseless step, back and forth the length of the firelit room her shadow, mounting the low walls to the ceiling, followed her with grotesque exaggerations of her movements. She was alone, but tonight she felt no loneliness. Since she had first *een him she had never permitted lierjelf to think of Hilgard. But now her eyes drooped, and blushes burned on her cheeks, rebuking the vision that answered her thoughts too vividly. Something in his image, as it came before her that niglit, troubled her. Was it his beauty, that seemed fit rather for a pageant of love than for love's unseen abnegations? Was it the contrast between Hilgard's knightly integrity and her brother's shabby part in life? She had clothed herself in Conrath's weakness and humiliation as in a robe of mourning. Would her lover accept her in her weeds? Could her future include both Hilgard and her brother?

The struggle was over in which she had tried to preserve her loyalty to Conrath's cause in the face of a growing conviction that he was in the wrong. She found a certain rest in admitting the truth and falling back on the next lower level of womanly faith, that he had been deceived to the last. Now there would be no more talk of mine and thine. Conrath would go east he could not desire to stay when this wretched business was over. There, among safer conditions, with old friends around him, he would regain his old life. She could find merciful excuses for him in the past. They had been two motherless children, constantly changed about from one temporary home to another, and from one boarding school to another, until school days were over. She had known but little of her brother's life in the interval between his schooldays and the marriage of their father, which had made the brother and sister more dependent on each other. That marriage had not given them a mother it had only separated them a little more from their father. It was then Conrath had made himself his sister's protector and provider. How proud she had been of his new honors and responsibilities, and how grateful for the home he had brought her to! She stopped, in that terror of the future and its incompatibility with the past, which chilled her dreams of happiness. How could they ever be reconciled?

At bedtime Peter came in with an armful of heavy green logs for the fire. Cecil went into the kitchen and said good night to Molly, who was dozing over a novel by the stove she fastened the doors, wound the clock, and curled herself into the hammock, wrapped in a Navajo blanket. She left the curtains undrawn—a custom in the camp, that the house might not be dark to a friend outside. She would watch these last hours, until the train went out, and bid her lover a silent, prayerful goodspeed.

She swung herself gently to and fro, watching the shadows in the room, chased by the flame flashes. The hammock swung slower and slower. One arm dropped over its side the warm, relaxed hand softly unclosed the long shadow wavering on the carpet rested, and Cecil slept.

The fire flamed and crackled and smoldered down. The sky thickened, and the stars struggled to keep their lookout above the restless lights of the camp. The windows of peaceful, frugal homes were dark, btlt lights burned still in the house of sickness, in the house of revelry and in the house of death. Underground, where day and night are interchangeable, the ceaseless labor went on. The night traffic of the camp went on late footsteps sounded on the resonant board sidewalks. Watchers by lonely prospect holes renewed their fires.

The moon rose above the hill across the gulch and looked in through the window—a sinister old moon, leaning with one cheek awry above a ragged pillow of cloud. She knew the strifes and the secrets of the camp. She looked in many uncurtained windows that night upon many sleepers and many who longed for sleep, and upon many to whom such fair, innocent sleep as Cecil's would never come again. The young girl lay alone in the shadowy room and slept, while the night waned, unconscious of the drear procession of tomorrows that awaited the cold, beckoning finger of daylight. She slept, while across the gulch, in another shadowy room, the defenders of the Led Horse sat, with their rifles across their knees, in a fateful silence.

A log parted and fell and rolled forward on the hearth, filling the room with smoke. Cecil woke and rose up to mend the fire, opening the door to let the smoke escape. She stood a moment looking out. It came to her with a shudder iiow in that same low light the

mgiit Derore sue naa waitea at t-ne uuor for her brother's heavy step, and she prayed that he might not- come home that way tonight.

:At

that moment the eastward bound train went clanging and rumbling out of the town its roar was deadened now in the deep cut, now loud again belovr the hill, dying gradually on the long grades of the first descent. Ho was goue. Thank God for that! But what was this unwonted stillness of the night? What sound did she miss from those familiar daily and nightly sounds she had ceased to listen for in their continuousness? She listened now, and her own pulses throbbed, heavy and fast, as it came to her that the pulse of the Shoshone had stopped beating. Its engine was silent, and from the opposite hill there came not a sound. Both mines were dumb.

Cecil's first impulse was to waken Molly and send her to the shafthouse for news, but she forbore. "Let her sleep, poor girl," she thought "it may mean trouble for her as well as for me.

She shrank from going out herself to meet whatever event might be coming. She waited an hour—an hour of hopeless expectation.

It was now 3 o'clock. The night had changed fleecy moving clouds pervaded the sky, and the moon, wading through them as through drifted snow, occasionally showed a bright segment of her disk.

She heard footsteps approaching the house, treading slowly over the frozen mud. They paused near the end of the piazza, and low voices of men spoke together. Then a single tread went quickly around the house to the outer door of the kitchen.

Cecil rose up, wan as a star at daybreak. The first knock came—low, repeated with brief pauses, as if the knocker listened for some stir within the house.

The footsteps outside moved forward toward the steps of the porch—a horrible four footed human tread—shuffling nearer, heavily mounting the steps, grating across the floor of the porch—pausing at the door. Something was laid down at the very threshold of that door.

She could not go and open it. The knocking continued. A man's step passed along the porch and a face looked in at the window—looked in Cecil's face and started back.

Slowly she dragged herself the length of the long room and felt her way through the dark passage to the kitchen.

The knocking was loud on the outer door. She crept to the door of Molly's room and heard the girl moving and her low voice speaMng from the window to one outside. '4 Whist, for God's sake! I'm comin!''

She clung helplessly to the door, and Molly, opening it, took her in and half carried her to the bed. She pressed her down into it and covered her deep under the bedclothes. "Lie still! Don't stir till I come," she whispered, with her warm cheek laid upon Cecil's. "Molly, the engines have stopped! I must go myself! It is for me!" Cecil tried to rise in the bed. "Whatever it is you'll know soon enough! I'll come to you with it, Miss Cecil, dear."

Molly shut the bedroom door behind her, opened the door of the kitchen and spoke with some one outside. Cecil heard her close the door again and heard the footsteps outside returning around the house to the porch. Molly went on tln-ough the kitchen, carefully closing all the doors behind her, as if the sounds in the house were a pestilent wind from which she would protect her mistress.

Cecil, lying alone in the dark room, beuumbed by the keenness of her anguished dread, fell off into a half unconscious dream of some hovering horror. Suddenly she sprang up. Molly was bending over her. A candle on a stand showed the girl's face plainly. Cecil asked no questions. She rose from the bed, and, holding Molly's hand, followed her in silence back through kitchen and passage to the parlor.

Three miners stood with their backs to the fire. They took off their hats as the women entered, and one of them, a smooth cheeked young fellow, meeting Cecil's eyes, turned away his own and rubbed one arm hastily across his face.

That which she had dreaded to see was not there, but one end of the hammock had been unslung. It lay coiled on the floor, and across the place where she had been sleeping, footsteps, crowding upon each other, had printed themselves on the carpet in the yellow mud of the mine, making a diagonal track from the outer door to tlie door of her brother's bedchamber.

Cecil's eyes followed that track then she lifted them to Molly's face, drawing her breath with a deep, hard gasp.

The faithful girl took her young mistress into her arms and gathered her close, rocking her gently in her strong embrace and moaning over her like a mother over a child in pain that cannot be relieved. ishwiler stepped out from the group of three by the fire, saying in the heavy wnisper of a man who has no low tones in his voice: "Miss, he was dead at the first shot!"

Molly felt a sharp quiver pass over the form locked close iu her arms. She darted a fierce glance at Gashwiler, but he went on in his merciless whisper: "It was all over, miss, two hours ago. We lost the fight when he was shot!" "God help them that begun it!" said Molly, her eyes fixed on Gashwiler's face.

Cecil lifted her head. "Hush! hush! Let me go to him!" Cecil looked out the next day on a white Wortd. Snow lay deep on the pass its soft mantle covered the rugged canyons

5

it whitened the windward side

of the pine trunks and the gray canvas covers of the freight wagons, bemired in the deeply rutted roads it lay smooth on the roofs of the town and deadened the tramping of feet on the board sidewalks it had obliterated all the devious footprints of the night before—it had hidden that track from the Shoshone

sliafthouse to Conrath's door.

uonraras aoor no longer,

xie muuu

go out of it once more, and then the account between the Led Horse and the Shoshone would be settled. There was no more talk of mine and thine for Conrath, lying straightened on his unused bed. It had com® to Cecil in her long watch beside him that this was the only way in which his future could be reconciled to his past. It was better for him to lie so, his rash struggle over, empty handed, claiming nothing, refuting nothing.

Better that silence, that dignity of rest, that look of his boyhood stealing back over the hardened features of his manhood, than a triumphant bringing home of sheaves that had been wrested from a fellow laborer. He had atoned to the uttermost, with all that a man has to give in restitution for wrong—a wrong attempted but not accomplished The account weighed now on the other side. She was humbly thankful that she would never have to know whose hand had turned the scale.

These were the thoughts that sank, cold and still as the snowflakes falling from the gray sky, into Cecil's bruised heart, smothering the passion of her grief.

The snow fell all day. It clung to the window sashes and melted from the logs that were laid upon the fire. The trail that led down into the gulch was buried out of sight. The yellow gold of the aspens would not be seen again until it had been transmuted into sodden leaf mold. The low monument stones were hidden the scars oft the young trees, bearing the marks of human possession, had been sealed out of sight by the impartial hand which keeps no record of the contracts of men, and Cecil's little ring, with its graven motto, "Dieu vous garde," lay deep under the snow.

A few people canie from the town that day of storm to offer their help and sympathy to the lonely household. Molly received them all and spared her mistress the questions and the exclamations.

Toward dusk Hilgard came plowing through the snow to the kitchen door and asked Molly if he could see her mistress. Afire had been kindled in Conrath's office, and Cecil had spent many hours of the day sitting there alone. Molly told Hilgard to go into the parlor and went herself to the office to seek her mistress.

Hilgard went into the parlor and found Cecil there. Among the rumors of the day that had come dimly to her ears was one that the train eastward bound had been blocked by snow in the valley. When she saw Hilgard enter the room she accepted the fact of his sudden return as the natural result of her longing for him. She had thought he would hear of her sorrow first when he was thousands of miles away, but the merciful snow had checked him, and the news had brought him back. Bad news trav-

Her strength suddenly deserted her, and she broke into wild sobs. eled quickly, and he would lose no time in coming to her. This was the rapid, unreasoning instinct that took the place of surprise at the sight of him.

She went to him, and all her simple, unquestioning need of him spoke in her face as she raised it to his, putting up her arms like a child.

In the full knowledge of what was before him he took her in his arms, and held her close, in a silent, remorseful embrace.

Drawing his head down to hers, with her hands clasped behind his neck, she whispered: "You are all that I have left."

He did not speak, but gently unclasped her hands and moved a little away from her. Would she ever come to him again and put up her arms to him, owning him as her only earthly refuge?

She did not seem to understand his withdrawing from her. She stood a moment looking at him helplessly, and then sat down in the nearest chair. "Did you hear of it, and come back? You knew how I would need you.'' "No, I did not come back.

She kept her eyes on his face, without listening to his words. "You must not look so! You must not suffer so for me! Ah, think how much worse it might have been 1 If you had not gone"— "Cecil, I did not go! You must try not to be hard on me. It had come to the clinch—I could not go!" "You must have gone!" she said, rising and confronting him with lier white face of dread. "I heard the train go out." "I was not on it. Will you sit still, Cecil? I will tell you all." "I do not wish to hear it. I cannot hear it!" "Do you think I need not tell you? You will let it rest? God bless you, my dearest!" "No, no!" she moaned. "You will have to tell me!"

He waited until he could speak and then spoke fast, in hard, unmodulated sentences. "I went down to hold the drift. We heard them open the d9or of the barricade, but we could n#Bee their faces. It was dark in the drift. We called to them to stop. There was firing. I don't know who fired first." "How many were you?" "We were two!" "No, no!" she pleaded wildly. "TIiArft must. Vin.v«'hfion mnrfi than twoJ"

[TO BE CONTINUED.]

Unless you want to buy your Tinware at hard-time prices. We arc prepared to make any and all kinds of Tinware.

Roofing, Guttering and Spouting

For less money than any other bouse in Greenfield. Call and get our prices and be convinced that we are the cheapest.

DON'T T0RGET ",cPLACF

Melton & Pratt,

No. 12 North Penn. St.

War Barnett's'old stand. d&w

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13 S. EAST STREET,

Greenfield, Ind.

First-class work at reasonable prices is our motto. Your patronage is respectfully solicited.

Leave your orders. All work not satisfactory (will, if returned, be laundried free of charge. Carpets cleaned at lowest prices.

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Sold by retail grocers everywhere. "When the Hour Hand Points to Nine, Have Your Washing on the Line."

ELECTRIC POWER

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