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DiY H\ COPYRIOKIT' 1934- 4W V: CHAPTER XViI-Continued. i He was in no better mood than my aeff to encounter insult, and what had I been a simple difference between us I flaned into a quarrel which reached c its culmination when he mentioned 9 Oliver's riame with a taunt, which the I boy, for all his obstinate clinging to v his journalistic idea, did not deserve. 8 Knowing my own temper. I drew a back into the Hollow. . He followed me. t I tried to speak. He took the word out of -my mouth. b This may have -been with the intent I of quelling my anger, but the tone v Was rasping, and, noting this and not d his words, my hind tightened insen- t sibly about the stick which the devil i (or John Scoville) had put in my hand g Did he see this, or was he prompted d by some old memory of boyish quar- a rels that he should give utterance to that quick, sharp laugh of scorn! I I shall never know, but ere the sound i had ceased the stick was whirling over r .my head-there came a crash- and he 1 fell. My friend! My friend! 8 Next moment the earth seemed too s narrow, the heavens too contracted v for my misery. That he was dead- I that my blow had killed him, I never A doubted for an instant. I knew it, as' t we know the face of Doom when once c it has risen upon us. Never, never a again would this lump of clay, which a a few minutes before had filled the a Hollow with shrillest whistling, t breathe or think or speak. He was e dead, dead, deadl-And I? What was I? F The name which no man hears un- n moved, no amount of repetition makes easy to the tongue or welcome to the i ear! . . . the name which I had I heard launched in full forensic elo- c quence so many times in accusation I against the wretches I had hardly re- 1 garded as being in the same human p class as myself rang in my ears as u though intoned from the very mouth , of hell. I could not escape it. I should t never be able to escape it again. c Though I was standing in a familiar I scene-a scene I hid known and fre quented from childhood, I felt myself I as isolated from my past and as com- t pletely set apart from my fellows as 1 the , s recked . mariner t9ssed to precarious foothold on . his wave. dashed rock. I forgot that other criminals existed. In that one awful moment I was in my own eyes the only, blot upon the universe-the sole inhabitant of the new world into which I had plunged the world of crime-the world upon which I had sat in judgment before I f knew- t What broke the spell? God knows: t all I can say is that, drawn by some c other will than my own, I found my I glance traveling up the opposing blufft till at its top, framed between the t ragged wall and towering chimney of s Spencer's F~olly, I saw the presence i I had dreaded, the witness who was 'a to undo me. ., r It was a woman-a woman with a little child in hand. I did not see her i face, for she was just on the point of t turning away from the dizzy verge, but nothing could have been plainer than c the silhouette which these two made against the flush of that early evening sky. As long as I could catch a glimpse of this-woman's fluttering skirt as she retreated througl. the ruins, I stood , there, self-convicted, above the man I had slain, staring up at that blotch of shining sky which was as the gate of hell to me. Not till their two figures had disappcared and it was quite clear again did the instinct of self-preserva-t tion return, and with it the thought of flight. But where could I fly? No spot in the whole world was secret enough to r conceal me now. I was a marked man. Better to stand my ground, and take e the consequences than to act the cow ard's part and slink away like those other men of blood I had so often sat in judgment upon. Had. I but followed this impulse! - Had I but gone among my fellows, I shown them the mark of Cain upon e my forehead and prayed, not for in dulgence, but punishment, what days of gnawing misery I should have been spared! The horror of what lay at my feet -drove me from the Hollow. As my steps fell mechanically into the trail down whicti I had come in innocenceI and kipdly purpose only a few minutes before, a startling thought shot through my bhenumbed mind. The woman had shown no haste in her4 turning! There had been a natural - ess in her movement, a dignity and a grace 'which spoke of ease, not shock. What if she .had not seen! What if tni deed was, as yet unknown! Might IDot have tfne for-for what.? I did not stop to think; I'just pressed on, saying to myself, "Let Providence de 3 ide,/ If I nieet- any one before I reach * . m 9W~mdoor4my dooni is settled. if 'I AM fI ttfIre"~ into the ~A ut, ~ f'~i+ IU 1w Itim -we C. "IN) Rhldel C D1) la )DDM'AO a C'OMPA7 . ai some control over my own emo ions before coming under Oscar's eye. That sound I have never understood t could not have been. Scoville, since the short time which bad passed he ould not have fled from the point rhere I heard him last into the ravine elow Ostrander lane. But. if not he. rho was it? Or if it was he. and ome other hand threw his stick cres' my path, whose was this hand ud why have we never heard any hing about it? It is a question which ometimes- floats through my mind. ut I did not give it a thought .then, was within sight of home and oil er's possible presence; and all other read was as nothing in comparison D what I felt at the prospect of meet 2g my boy's eye. My boy's eye! my reatest dread then, anid my greatest read still! In my terror of it I walked a to my doom. The house, which I had left empty, found empty; Oliver had not yet re tirned. The absolute stillness of the Doms seemed appalling. Instinctive r I looked at the clock. It had topped. Not at the minute-I do not ay it was at the minute-but near, ery near tht. time when from An inocent man I became a guilty one. Lppalled at the discovery, I fled to be front. Opening the door, I looked ut. Not a creature in sight, and not sound to be heard. The road was a lonely and seemingly as forsaken a the house. Had time stopped here, Do? Were the world ard its inter sta at a pause in horror of my deed? 'or a moment I believed it; then morc atural sensations inte-vened, and. re Aicing at this lack of disturbance there disturbance meant discovery, stepped inside again, rewound the lock, and sat down in my own room. fy own room! Was it mine any rnger? Its walls looked strange; the etty objects of my daily handling, nfamiliar. The change in myself in acted everything I saw. I might have een in another man's house for all onnection these things seemed to tave with me or my life. Like one et apart on an unapproachable shore. stretched hands in vain toward all hat I had known and all that had ieen of value to me. But as the minutes passed I began o lose this feeling. Hope, which' I hought quite dead, slo'wly revived iothing had happened, and perhaps iothing would. Men had been killed before, and the layer passed unrecognized. Why night it not be so' In my case? If the roman continued to remain silent; if or any reason she had not witnessed he blow or the striker, who else was here to connect me with an assault ommrittedl a quarter of a mile away? lo one knew of the quarrel; and if hey did, who could be so daring as o associate one of my name with an etion so brutal? A judge slay his riend! It would take evidence of a ery marked character' to make even iy political enenies believe that. As the twilight deepened I rose from iy seat and lit the gas. I must not e found skulking in the dark. Then began to count the ticks measuring ff the hour. if thirty minutes more assed without a rush from without I ight hope. If twenty?-if ten ?-then was five! then it was Ah! The gate had clanged to. They ,ere coming. I could hear steps--. oices-a loud ring at the bell. I ioved slowly toward the front. I laredl the betrayal which my ashy mtee and trembling hands might makle. Lgitation after the news was to be xpected, but not before! So I left the hall dark when I opened the door. and thus decided my future. For in the faces of the small crowd 'hich blocked the doorway I detected othing but commiseration; and whien voice spoke and I heard Oliver's ac ents surcharged with nothing more. rievous than pity. I realized that my ecret was as yet unshared, and, see og that no man suspected me, I fore ore to declare my guilt to anyone. This suddlen restoration from sound ass depths into the pure air of respect nd sympathy confused me; and be ond the words "Killed! Struck down y the bridge!" I heard little, till lowly, dully, like the call of a bell esuing from a smothering mist. I aught the sound of a name. it struck ny ear and gradually it dawned upon ny consciousness that another man ad been arrested for my crime and hat the safety, the reverence and the omnmseration that were so dear to ne had beeni bought at a price no man >f honor might pay. But I was no longer a man of honor. was a wretched criminal swaying Ibove a gulf of infamy in which I had een others swallowed but had never reamed of being engulfed myself. ever thought of letting myself go ot at this crisis-not while nay heart vas warm with Its resurgence into the ld life. And so I let pass this opportunity or confession. Afterwards it was too ate-or seemed too late to my demor lized judgment. My first real awakening to the ex rgordinary horrors of my position ys. *hen I realIzed. that cirem Swere likely, to forcet me into Scovile. I eigned stoleess, only to realize that my plapi-weyid be taken by Judge -Grosveno,. a notoriously prejudiced man. If he satit would go hard with the prlsoner ' and I wanted the prisoner acquitfed. .'I -had no grudge against ' John Scoville Of course' I wanted to save him, and if the only help I could now give him wad to sit.as judge upon his case, then Would I sit as judge whatever mental torture it involved. Sending for Mr, Black, I asked him point blank whether in face of the circumstance that the victim of this murder was my best friend, he would not prefer to plead 'his case before Judge Grosvenor. He answered no: that he 'had more confidence in my equity even under these .circumstances than in that of my able, but head strong colleague, and brayed me to get well, He did not isy that he expected me on this very account to show even more favor toward his client than I might otherwise have done, but I am sure that he meant it; and, taking his attitude as an omen. I obeyed his injunction and was soon well enough to take my seat upon the bench. What men saw facing them from the bench was an autonaton wound up to do so much work each day. The real Ostrander was not there, but stood, an unseen presence at the bar, undergoing trial side by side Vith John Scoville, for a crime to make angels weep and humanity hide its head: hypocrisy! But the days went by and the inex orable hour drew nigh for the accused man's release or condemnation. Cir cumstances were against him-so was his bearing, which I alone understood. If, as all felt, it was that of a guilty man, it was so because he had been guilty in intent if not in fact. He had meant to attack Algernon Etheridge. He had run down the ravine for that purpose, knowing my old friend's whistle and envying him his watch. Or why his foolish story of having left his stick behind him? But the sound of my approaching steps higher up on the path had stopped him in midcareer and sent him rushing up the slope ahead of me. When he came back after a short circuit of the fields beyond, it was to find his crime fore stalled and by the very weapon he had thrown into the Hollow as he went scurrying by. He had meant to attack Etheridge. It was the shock of the discovery of the body, height ened by the use he made of it to se cure the booty thus thrown in his way without crime, which ga e him -H. Was Dead, Dead, Dead--and I? What Was I? the' hang-dog look we all noted That there were other reasons--that the place recalled another scene of brutality in which intention had been followed by act, I did not then know It was sufficient to me then that my safety was secured by his own guilty consciousness andl the prevarications into which it led him instead ot owning up to the encounter he had so barely, escap~ed he confined himself to the simpile declaration of having heard voices somewhere near the bridge, which to all who know the ravine ap peared impossible under the condi tions named. Yet, for all the incongruities and the failure of his counsel to produce any dlefinite impression by the prison er's persistent denial of having whit tled the stick or even, of having car ried it into Dark Hollow, I expected a verdict in his .favor. Indeed, I was so confident of it that, I suffered less (luring the absence of the jury than at any other time, and when they re turned, with an air of solemn decision which proclaims unanimity of mind and a ready verdict, 1' was so prepared for his acquittal that for the first time since the opening of the trial I felt myself a being of flesh and blood, with human sentiments and hopes And it was: "Guilty I" When I awoke to a full realization of wvhat this entailed (for I must have lost consciousness for a minute. though no one seemed to notice), the one fact staring me in the face was that it would- devolve upon me to pro nounce his sentence; upon mne, Archi bald Ostrander, an automaton no longer, but a msn realiz~'ing to the full his part in this miscarriage of justice. Chaos cdnfronted me. and in contemplation oft i tfel iil Somehow, strtige; pit mas appear, 1- had thought lito tle f hi pnsibility previoug 2o tlws moment. self upon the brink of thi.i i!" ginu before the dizziness of my espea fo6m the other had fully passed Do. Oa wonder that I recoiled, sought to,."n time, put off delivering the sentence from day to day? I had sinned-sinned irredeemably-but there are depths of Infamy beyond which a man cannt go. I had reached that point. What saved me? A new discovery, and the loving sympathy of' my son Oliver. One night-a momentous one to me-he came to my room and, clos ing the door behind him, stood with his back to it, contemplating me it a way that startled me. What had happened? What lay be hind this new and penetrating look, this anxious and yet persistent man ner? I dared not think. I dared not yield to the terror which must follow thought. Terror blanches the cheek and my cheek must never blanch un der anybody's scrutiny. Never, never. so long as I lived. "Father"-the tone quieted me. for I knew from its gentleness that he was hesitating to speak more on his own account than on mine-"you are not looking well: this thing worries you. I hate to see you like this. is It Just the loss of your old friend, or-or-" He faltered, not knowhig how to pro ceed. "Sometimes I think," he recom menced. "that you don't feel quite sure of this man Scoville's guilt. Is that so? Tell me, father?" I did not know what to make of him. There was no shrinking from me; no conscious or unconscious accusation in voice or look, but there was a de sire to know, and a certain latent re solve behind It all that marked the line between obedient boyhood and thinking, determining man. With all my dread-a dread so great I felt the first grasp of age upon my heart strings at that moment-i recognized no other course than to meet this In quiry -of his with the truth-that is, with just so much of the truth as was needed. No more, not one jot more. I therefore answered, and with a show of self-possession at which I now won der: "You are not far from right. Oliver. I have had moments of doubt. The evidence, as you must have noticed, Is purely circumstantial." "What evidence would satisfy you? What would you consider a conclusive proof of guilt?" I told him in the set phrases of my profession. "Then," he declared as I finished. "you may rest easy as to this man's right to receive a sentence of death." I could not trust my ears. "I know from personal observation," he proceeded. approaching me with a firm step, "that he is not only capable of the crime for which he has been convicted, but that he has actually committed one under similar circum stances. and possibly for the s3ame end." And he told me the story of hat night of storm and bloodshed-a story which will be found lying near this, In my alcove of shame and contrition. (TO BE CONTINUED.) SCAR MARKS EVERY- FACE Mysterious Affliction That Is Common to All the Inhabitants of Bagdad. An uncanny, pernicious pest called the "date boil" scars the taco of every human born in Hlagdad, wvrites a cor respondent of the National Geographic Magazine. Children invariably have this dreadful sore on their faces Throughout the middle east this mnys terious scourge is known by various names-"Bouton d'Alep," 'Nile sore,' "Delhi button," etc.. Its cause and Its cure are unknown First a faint red sp)ot appears, growing larger and running a course often eighteen months long. \Vhite men from foreign lands have lived years in Arabia, only to have this boll appear upon their return to civilizatIon, where Its presence Is em barrassing and hard to explain. Maybe It was "date bOlls" that Job had! Once a British consul at Aleppo lost almost his whole nose from one of these boils. Nearly every Blagdad natIve you meet has this "date mark' on his face The .Lkellest One. The late Admiral Mahan, at the be ginning of the war, was arguing with a lady at'a luncheon about the British navy. "But my dear madam," said the ad miral, "it is hard to argue with you because you are so-er, pardon me so ignorant. "You remind w'e of the young wife who said to her brother about her volunteer husband: "'Isn't Jack just wonderfnl? Think-he's already been promoted to field, marshal.' "'From pirivate to fild marshal in two .months? impossible,' said- the broth~er. "'Did I say fild marshal?' mur mnured the young wife. 'Well, per haps It's court-martial. I know it's one or the other.' "-New York Trib une. Daily Thought I seek no thorns, and I catch the small joys. if the door Is low I stoop dlown. If I can remove the stone out of my way I (10 so, lIl t be too heavy. I go around it. 'And thus ever'; day I find something which gladdens me. Goethe, ' Ages of VarIous Trees. The Ivy lives 200 .years, the elm a00 to 350 years. the litiden 500 to 1.000 years, the locust tree and the oak 400 ydar. and the fir 700 to 1,20' years, Bv E. 0. OELiLERS. Acting Director of . nty te.Sehool Course. Mloody Bible Copyright. 1916. Wetern Newspaper Union.) LESSON FOR MARCH 12 HEROES AND MARTYRS OF FAITH. LESSON TEDT-Heb. 11:1: 12:3. GOLDIEN TEXT-Let us run with pa tience the race that is set before us. looking unto Jesus, the author and per fector of our faith.-Heb. 12:1. 2. There are two kinds of heroism for which medals are awarded in this country. Congress confers a "medal of honor' for distinguished services and extraordinary heroism in war. The Carnegie "hero fund in peace," bestows medals and pecuniary recog nition for heroic deeds performed in preserving and rescuing human life, and the first medal thus issued was given to a boy for rescuing inother boy from drowning. I. Faith Defined, v. 1. This is per haps the most quoted and succinct definition we have of faith. What fol= lows is but the illustration and ap plication of the fact. Fait is an "as surance" (R. V.). The ground of this assurance and conviction is the word of God. (See Rom. 10:17). The only sure ground for a dynamic and intel ligent faith is God's wdrd: put to the acid test of experience it never fails. 1i. Faith Declared, vv. 4, 5. Faith had been declared and manifested by many illustrations before the death o. Stephen: (a) Abel, at the risk of his brother's anger, obeyed the unseen God and earned his approval; his heroic, mar tyred spirit still speaks to men (v 4) (b) Enoch, the diligent seeker after God, in a world of lawlessness lived a life well-pleasing to him Oarough a faith that made his presence real (v, 6,,6). '(c) Noah (v.7), a lonely man of faitb (Gen. 6:5), chose the unseen God and preached righteousness rather t'i an avoid the ridicule of his neb * I Noah reckoning the invisible U I gible, continued to build his ark and became a blessing to the race. (d) Abraham and Sarah (8-12). Nol knowing whither they went, by faitt these lonely pilgrims unerringly lol lowed an invisible God to an unseer country; but a faith greater still le( them to "dwell in the land" and no possess it (v. 10). Their faith re deemed them from the mere emigran character. They "looked for a city which had foundations, whose builde and maker is God." (e) Moses (23-28) showed his faitt by a right choice. He weighed value and had "respect unto the recompens of reward." His faith "endured, al seeing him who is invisible." Mosei saw by faith the "reproach of Christ, that which Christ suffered for the re demption of the world, as being o "greater riches than the treasures o: Egypt. - These, and others not mentioned, are sumnmarizedi by their having ac coomplished ten different things (32= 40). They performed great deeds o1 heroism (32-34); they endured great suffering and persecution (35,36) Ai: of this suffering was to issue in s greater reward with the glory that was to come (Rom. 8:18, II Cor. 4:17, 8). Aul these men of faith "obtained a good report.'' iii. Faith Demanded, 12: 1. 2. The Holy Spirit has gIven us this long list af heroes as an exhortation to stir ugi those living to the performance 01 heir duty. The roll call of triumphant heroes is not yet completed. All these mentioned are witnesses, not onlook. ers. These are they who have testi fled to God and to tihe truth of his word. In the light of this testimony nd on the same ground of their tes= timony, we nre to do several things: 1. To "lay aside every weight." Nc runner carries any weight beyond that which is needful. Some things airc burdens that are not necessarily sins. Every such tiling hinders our running and should pe laid aside. 2. "The sin that doth so easily besot es '' Literally, that wrap themselves -bout us as an ill-fitting garment, amti vhichl trip or impede the runner's progress. These sins (not sin) are those little devil habits and practices which must, for that reason, be laid side. 3. "Run with patience the race set efore us.'' There must be steadfast. ness and endurance. If church mein ers were as faithful in following usi a thle average buciness house is, we ould hlave less of lap~sed church mem. bers and fewer boys and girls whc rift away from the Sunday school. 4. "Looking unto .Jesus." This is th(e keynote to this e'ntire epistle and t( this category of heroes. *He is oui "file-leader" and the aperfector. of oui faith. Once we get our eyes off hini we will stumble and fall in the race "Tor the joy (literally equal fellow ship withl God) set before him he en dured tile cross" (Phil. 2:6-8). If wi would win the race, we must despis4 the sin which lies in the path of abse lute loyalty to God. The work of Jesus and the bestow ing of the Holy Spirit who is alwayi with us, is the source6 the author o1 ur faith. There is far too much easy goinj Christianity an~d too little seif-sur render aipd aifugst no privation in 00: modern o urbh -life Such a Bi leg~as Christissity nia produce' Oldigetrent world, 6 -tableti reliable remed ble for you to, at the very guard against o other catarrhal,.... matter what iyra , manifest. Catarrh is'. tion of the mucous niib lines the breathing appaii the digestive apparatus. P relieves catarrh. Intablet,100a EVER-READY-TO.TA Its prompt action makes It valuable for zpen and women et poied to sudden changes 1 th weather or compled to be otl sluh and rain.. 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