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Show i I The Branding Iron jj Bl3 Katharine Netului Burl I I ' I ' Cofyriaht bj Katharin. M.Burt . T SYNOPSIS Joaa Lendla, eighteen yeare old. wife of Pierre, la the daughter daugh-ter of John Carver, who murdered mur-dered her mother for adultery Her lonely life, with her father, ( in a Wyoming cabin, unbearable, Joan leavea him to work In a hotel In a nearby town. Joan meeta Pierre, and the two. mutually mutu-ally attracted, are married. Carv- er tella Pierre atory of Joan'a t mother. Pierre forgea a cattle I brand, Frank Holllwell, young I minister, presenta booka to Joan. I Pierre forblda her to read them. Maddened by Jealouay, Pierre ? tlea Joan and burnt the Two-Bar I brand Into her ahoulder. ' I I I CHAPTER VI Continued, f 5-1 CHAPTER VIII Delirium. It Is not the people that have led still and uneventful lives who are best prepared for emergencies. They are not trained to face crises, to jtmts, prompt and Just decisions. Jr.-'-' made but two such resolutions' VJ life: the first when she had f 'ise1 Pierre, the second when she ha- I Holllwell's books In defiance o " husband's Jealousy. The leavl Jb"'. father had been the result o'f'.rW, and painful thought. Now, In a few hours, events had crashed about h;T so that her whole life, outer and Inner, In-ner, had been shnttered. Beyond the pain and fever of her wound there was an utter confusion of her faculties. Before she fainted she had. Indeed, Are you sorry r demanded her rescuer res-cuer sternly. Vas he In the habit of tying you up or was this branding brand-ing a special dlverslonr Joan turned her face away, writhed from head to foot, put up her two hands between him and her agonizing memories. The man rose and left her, going softly Into the next room. There he stood In a tense attitude of thought, sat down presently with his long, narrow nar-row Jaw in his hands and stared fixedly fix-edly at Pierre, He was evidently trying try-ing to fight down the shock of the spectacle, grimly telling himself to become used to the fact that here lay the body of a man that he had killed. In a short time he seemed to be successful, suc-cessful, his face grew calm. He looked away from Pierre and turned his mind to the woman. "She can't stay here," he snld presently, pres-ently, In the tone of a man to himself. He looked about in a hesitant, doubtful doubt-ful fashion. "G d !" he said abruptly ab-ruptly and snapped his fingers and thumb. He looked angry. Again he bent over Pierre, examined him with thoroughness and science, his face becoming more and more calm. At the end he rose and with an air of authority he went In again to Joan. She lay with her face to the wall. "It Is Impossible for you to stay here," said he In a voice of command. "Ton are not fit to take care of yourself, your-self, and I can't stay and take care of you. You must come with me. I think you can manage that. Tour husband If he Is your husband Is dead. It may or may not be a matter for sorrow to you, but I should say that It ought not to be anything but a merciful release. Women are queer creatures, though. . . . However, whether you are In grief or In rejoicing, rejoic-ing, you can't stay here. By tomorrow tomor-row or next day you'll need more nursing than you do now. I don't want made a distinct resolve to leave Pierre. It was this purpose, working subconsciously subcon-sciously on her will, as much as the urgent pressure of the stranger, 'that took her past Pierre's body out Into the dawn and sent her on that rash Journey of hers In the footsteps of an unknown man. This being seemed to her then hardly human. Mysterl ously he had stepped In out of the night, mysteriously he had condemned Pierre, and In self-defense, for Joan had seen Pierre draw his gun and fire, he had killed her husband. Now, Just as mysteriously, as Inevltab'y It seemed to her, he took command of her life. She was a passive, shipwrecked ship-wrecked thing a derelict. As the silent day slowly brightened through Its glare of clouds, she plodded plod-ded on, setting her snowshoes In the tracks her leader made. The pain in her shoulder steadily Increased, more and more absorbed her consciousness. She did not know that they were traveling trav-eling north and west toward the wildest wild-est and most desolate country, that every time she set down her foot she set It down farther from humanity. She began soon to be a little lightheaded light-headed and thought that she was following fol-lowing Pierre. At noon they entered the woods, aid her guide came behind her and led her through fallen timber and past pitfalls of soft snow. Suddenly, "I can't go no more," she sobbed, and stepped, swaying. At that he took htr;in arms and carried her a few hundre feet till they entered a cabin upd the shelter of firs. ffT "Tr' the rnmrpr-Rfntlon." snld: When this pain left her, when she was free of her bonds, no force nor fear would hold her to Pierre. She would leave him as she had left her 4 father. She would go away. There was no place for her to go to, but ( what did that matter so long as she might escape from this horrible place and this Infernal tormentor? She did not look about to see the actuality of , Pierre's silence. She thought that he i had dropped the brand and was slt- ting near the table with his face hld- den. How long the stillness of pain I and fury and horror lasted there was ., do one to reckon. It was most star-tllngly star-tllngly broken by a voice. "Who creamed for help?" It said, and at the I tame Instant a draft of Icy air smote Joan. The door had opened with sud-J sud-J flenness and violence. With difficulty . she mastered her pain and turned her head. Pierre had staggered to his feet. ; Opposite him, framed against the open door filled with the wan whiteness of i the snow, stood a spare, tall figure. The man wore his fur collar turned up about his brow, a sharp aquiline nose stood out above frozen mus-' mus-' taches, keen and brilliant eyes searched the room. He carried his I gun across his arm In readiness, and L snuffed the air like a suspicious hound. Then he advanced a step toward Pierre. "What devil's work hsve you been at?" said he, his voice cutting the ear In Its sharpness of astonished rage, and his hand slid down along the handle of his gun. Pierre, watching him like a lynx, side-stepped, crouched, whipped out his gun and fired. At almost the same ! second the other's gun went off. Pierre dropped. This time Joan's nerves gave way and the room, with Its smell of scorched flesh, of powder and of frost, went out from her horrified spnses. For a moment the stranger's stern face and brilliant eyes made the approaching ap-proaching center of a great cloud of . darkness, then It, too, went out. CHAPTER VII The Judgment of God. The man who had entered with such sudden violence upon so violent a scene stood waiting till the smoke of Pierre's discharge had cleared away, then, still holding his gun In readiness, readi-ness, he stepped across the room and bent over the fallen man. 'Tve killed him 1" he said, Just above his breath, and added presently. "That was the Judgment of God." He looked ahnnt. taking In everv detail of the "the ranger told me that I could n" use of It on my way back. We 4.h pass the night here." Joan knew that he had carried her across a strange room and put her on a strange bed. He took off her snow-shoes, snow-shoes, and she lay watching him light a fire in the cold, clean stove and cook a meal from supplies left by the owner of the house. She was trying now to remember who he was, whnt had happened, and why she was in such misery und pain. Sometimes she knew that he wns her father and that she wns at home In that wretched shark up Lone river, and an Ineffable satisfaction would relax her cramped mind; sometimes, Just as clearly, she knew that he was Pierre who had taken her away to some strange place, and, In this certainty, she was even more content. But always the horrible hor-rible flame on her shoulder burnt her again to the confusion of half-consciousness. He wasn't John Carver, he wasn't Pierre. Who, In God's name, was he? And why was she here frtone with him? She could not frame a question; she had a fear that, If she "Don't Waste Time. There Will Be Snow Today." to take you to a neighbor, even if there was one near enough, but I'll scene, the branding Iron that had burnt its mark deep Into the boards where Pierre had thrown It down, the glowing fire heaped high and blazing dangerously In the small room, the woman bound and burnt, the white night outside the uncurtained window. Afterward he went over to the woman, who drooped In hpr bonds with head hanging backward over the wounded shoulder. lie untied the silk scarf and the rope and carried her, still unconscious. Into the bedroom, bed-room, where he laid her on the bed and bathed her face In water. Joan's crown of hair had fallen about her neck and temples. Her bared throat and shoulder had the firm smoothness of marble, her lifeless face, Its pure, full lips fallen apart. Its long lids closed, black-fringed and blnck-browed, blnck-browed, owing little of Its beauty to color or expression, was at no Inns in this deathlike composure and whiteness. white-ness. The man dealt gently with her as though she had been a child. He found clean rags, which he soaked In oil and placed over her burn, then he drew the coarse clothing about her and resumed his bathing of her forehead. fore-head. She gave a moaning sigh, her face contracted woefully, and she opened her eyes. The man looked Into them as a curious child might look Into an opened door. "Did you see whnt happened?" he asked her when she hnd come fu".v to herself. "Yes," Jonn whispered, her lips slinking. slink-ing. "I've killed the brute." Her fare been me t rlsic mnsk of tragedy, the drnwn brows, horrllh'd vt s mid widened mouth. "Pierre? Killed?" Her voire, hnrd-l hnrd-l inore thnn a whisper, tilled the lit)U with Its iiRnny. take you with me. Will you get ready now?" His sure, even, commanding voice evidently had a hypnotizing effect upon the dazed girl. Slowly, wincing, she stood up. and with his help gathered together some of her belongings, which he put In the pack he carried on his shoulders. She wrapped herself In her warmest outdoor clothing. He then put his hand upon her arm and drew her toward the door of that outer room. She followed him blindly with no will of her own, but. as he stopped to strap on his snowshoes, her fare lightened with pain, and she made as If to run to Pierre's body. He stood before her. "Im't touch him," said he and, turning himself, he glanced back nt Pierre. In that glance he saw one of the lean, brown hands stir. His fnre became suddenly suffused, even his eyes grew shot with blood. Standing Stand-ing carefully so as to obstruct her view, he caught st the corner of an elk hide and threw It over Pierre. Then he went to Joan, who stared at him, white and shaking. He put his nrm around her and drew her out, shutting the door of her home and leaning ngalnst it. "You can't go hark," said he gently nnd reasonably. "The man tried to kill you. You can't go back. Surely you inetin to go sway." "Yes," said Joan; "yes. I did nienn to go nwny. Hut but It's Pierre." He Iwnt and began to strap on her snowshoes. There was a fighting brilliance bril-liance In his eyes and a stninw look of hurrv about him tlmt had Its effort on Joan. "It's Pierre no longer." said !. -What can you do for liim? What ran he do for you? I sensible, child. Come. Ion t waste 0w There "111 he s'iow today." Joan bent over her head aud followed fol-lowed him across the snow. began to speak, she would scream and rave, would tell Impossible, secret things. So she held herself to silence, to a savage watchfulness, to a battle with delirium. The man brought her a cup of strong coffee and held up her head so that she could drink It, but it nauseated nau-seated her and she thrust It weakly away, asking for cold water. After she had drunk this, her mind cleared for an Instant ; she tried to stand up. "I must go back to Pierre now," she said, looking about with wild but resolute reso-lute eyes. "Lie still," snld the stranger gently. "You're not fit to stir. Trust me. It's all right. You're quite safe. Get rested and well, then you may go wherever you like. I want only to help you." The reassuring tone, the promising words coerced her and she dropped hack. Presently, In spite of pain, she slept. She woke and slept In fever for many hours, voguely aware, at times, that she was traveling. She felt the motion of a sled under her snd knew that she was lying on a warm hide of some freshly killed beast and that a blanket and a ennvas covering protected protect-ed her from a swirl of snow. Then she thought she heard a voice babbling queerly and suw a fare quite terribly different from other human faces. Tha, covering wns tnkeu from her, snow-flakes snow-flakes touched her cheek, a lantern shone In bi.'r eyes, nnd she was lifted and carried Into h warm, pleasnnt-smelling pleasnnt-smelling pUre from which were magically mag-ically and completely banished all sound and bitterness of storm. fhe tried to see where e wan, but her eves looked on Incredible colors and eonfuslons, she shut them and passively pas-sively allowed herself to be handled bv (left hands. (TO U CONTl.NL'EUJ |