UNWILLING WITNESS.

South Canterbury Times, Issue 7071, 17 February 1893, Page 4

UNWILLING WITNESS.

LITERATURE

.'CONTINUED.) Tnefiist day’s ride wa» not half pier before Harkins had ‘borrowed two ot >he children, and was telling them stones and romp ng with them, w fado tee mother from t m« to time looked tack and son le i at the |oand of t'leir laughter. Wh-n tno b>y grew sleepy he Helped bei to make a bed lor him on ttio eeat beside, and arranged hih travelling bag under her feet, teat she might tt,o more easily support tne chi d’o brad in her lap. At the squah-i meal Button he thru«t tier into the warmest corner by ihe fire, and bribe), iro.m toe meiig’e hospitality of tr, e tbe best it could furnish tor her cornier'. He led the way back 10 th« with the . youngster on hie siiO.ddrr, and, putting him into bis mother's arms, begged h-r to keep bis seat lor him wli lobe walked on a milt or so for oxeicis-v Not to be burdened with it while walking, he tine# oil uis fur c ; »at and asked permission to wrap h-r and the iitf.'e fellow in it, out Iho should heed it ag«iu. For the little lellow’s sake sba allowed him to do so. Laughingly he cuddled (he two little girls in bis tugs, and bidding them ftt no one into msl,spat in his absence, trudged on alidad of the stage. When it overtook him ho climbed up beside the driver aud sal there s nokiiu until it grew dusk. L ikina ‘‘back into the coach, be ea-v that the mother ami children wore asleep, snugly wrapper iu b.s rugs am .fuis. --'.ecfih-d nunself a a——' fool, look sometumg to keep out the cold, and crawling do* n into the bout under the driver’s blankets, slept there all n ghi on the mad bags. The mother began tbe next day with an effort at inde t ei dene •, bm was soon too much exhausted by tbe unavoidable hardships ot the journey and her chi.dftm’e coas’ant claims on b*r strength to reoi t the ingenious and persistent kindness of her fellow traveller. The Ch lonel’s luxuries were her necessities. He divetted them to her use with tnat understand.ng. cheerfullv insisted uo by him, and helplessly admitted by herself. The stage office was buzzing wi h talk of the latest camp tragedy on the evening of the tiavellers’ arrival. . * Oh, it is only some felow got o'eaned out »i faro, tmd shot himself last night/ Huikms ieplied to the young mother's inquiries as she sat with her children nrouu i her in a cur ner of a crowded 500 m. ‘ Wnat did you say your husband's first name was, MmE-B'isFFraok? Well, see her*! You’d belter get aro *m here to night. He didn't get your lelegrain most likely. I don’t seem to him any where* about. Well look him up first thi'g m the mutntng. Those C'ifd-ea ought to have something to eat. i’il have something sent up 10 you. Now don’t you worry, will you ? YoU leave me to find your huehaud.’ So, talking rapidly, he hurried her away from tbe merciless go-sip ol thu crowd, wfiicd suspendtd its winds long eoo'iga to stare at poor Frank s widow as she passed out ol the room.

Yes; ii was ju?t his luck—that ibe hue baud of bis pretty, pale, fellow traveller should bo the dead man whom the Masons were to bury to-morrow ; that she should be nearing the time of her woman’s utmost need, penniless, homeless, without a tn*od in the plao. The next day he took her to a cabin in the outskirts ot the town. It was her husband s bouse, he told her. This w«s the iurniture Eaatis bad bought iu preparation for her coming. These trifles of groceries and what not be had ordered in her husband’s name ; ii was all the same. Evidently he had not been housekeeping himsel and w«e all tie honied by her telegram. Th*n he h-id received it ? Where was be ? What was be keeping from her ? He met 'he question simply and squarely, cursing his luck agaiu that there was no one to meet it but him. He had occasion to call himself a fool with profane emphasis more than once that day, because be could not forget th < new-made widow and her forlorn liitie brood. He mentioned her case to a lady friend ot bis, who promised to look after her should she need a woman’s help. Harkins's lady friend was herself one of the poorest of the poor, yet those who have lost their ail may still have something to give to another’s distrsss.

Frank Eastis’s wife bad long ago learned bow cruel are the leader mercies of the feeble wicked. It was only 004 more stop in the long, downward, pato abe bad taken beside him—the last step— audio was characteristic of him that be bad left her to take it alone.

- It was a ten-days’journey, including the stage ride, from Sau Francisco to Deadwood with tbe roads in good condition. The roads were at their worst, and B dewio, stapling immediately ou the news of Eus is’s death, was two weeks on tbe »ay. He reached Deadwood one evening about tea o’oioik, bruised, supperlrtsa, and stiff with cold. Tbe usual crowd was gathered m the bar-room of ibe North-Western Hotel. It seemed as good a place as any to begin inquiries for his sister. He was sure to find some of E istis’s friends there. When Bodewiu asked news of Eoslis’s wife there was a dead silence 1 in the room. Colonel Harkins stepped ont of the crowd, and taking Bodewin apar', asked : * Who might you be. inquiring for Frank E Otis’s w>feP’ i fl am MrsEustis’s brother/ Bodewin replied. •The devil you areT he remarked in the came low, deliberate tone, *You’re a sweet brother! Why didn’t you get in here two weeks ago ?’ Bodewin did not make the mistake of resenting this singular reception |

(om a stranger. H u was ta-nii*a»-enough with fron ier manners to under--81.1 di »s soa.e inde orm ■: co «o. piouship of hi* sister, founded on hu own apparent or fancied neglect. 4 Never mind nbmt two weeks ago/ •(Do vou know where my sister is now?’

Harkins looked him over again carefully before be spoke. 4 Better take a drink and eat something.’ Bodewin declined to act on this Bugiestion, and showed some restivenesß iiidor Harkins's prolonged interest in him. • Come on, then/ the latter said, and led the way into the street. Walking fast, without speaking, they came to that low cabin in the thinly built part ot the town where the widow had found Harkins knocked at the door softlv, or bo Bodewin fancied, la my sister not well P’ he asked. 4 Bhe is Hark'.ns answered solemnly, ‘ since two o’clock last night ’

H-i lo t Booevvin waiting at 'he door. After some delay it w«s opened by a whi e-face I, red-chorked young woman •vho st ired »t Bodewin, and looked as if ebe-might have simpered a l.ule il she had been sleepy. 4 Take a chair. ’ tdm said. 4 Be you a friend of hers ? ’ indicating with a motion of her hand the closed door of an adj fining room. ‘lam her brother,’ Bodewin replied. ‘You'don't say! VVLe 0 are you from ? ’ Bodewin mentioned the place. * HowJonii is it since you st en her P’ ‘ Nearly ten years.’ ‘ Well, 1 delate! I guess she’s changed some. D’you want to vee her to night ? Bbe ain’t laid out yet. There wasn’t anything of tier own fit to put on her. She could ’a’ worn a white silk of mine ; it’s some soiled, bu> it might ’a’ done with lace over the I root of tbe waist. But the Colonel wouldn’t hear to it. He’s having a splendid cashmere robe made for her/

(To he continued.)