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Show I i THE BINGHAM NEWS ' ' faWNMMMMHHMMtfttMM Mtfiiiaei fff ffffffffffff fffff The Branding Iron Bij Katharine Keiulin Burt ! Copyright bj Katharine N. Burt 2 4Ht.t she nodded. She was pale, her eyea heavy, but she was clad to be found, Clad to be saved, lie saw that, and he saw dawning confusion In her eyes. At the end he drew her ann Into his, and, when they came Into the house, he knelt and took the snow-sho-from her feet, she drooping against the wall. lie put a band on each of ber shoulders and looked re-proach. "You wanted to leave me. JoanT Tou wanted to leave me as aiuch as that?" She shook her head from side to side, then, drawing away, she stum-bled past hlra Into the room, dropped grave, part of the old life back to which she was running. Down the canyon trail she floundered, her short skirt gathering a weight of snow, ner webs lifting a mass of It at every tugging step. Her speed perforce slackened, but she plodded on, out of breath and In a sweat She was surprised at the weakness; put It down to excitement. "I was afeered he'd make me stay," she said, and. "I've got to go. I've got to go." This went with her like a beating rhythm. She caine to the opening In the firs, the foot of the steep trail, and out there stretched the valley, blank snow, blank sky, here and there a wooded ridge, then a range of lower hills, blue, snow-mottle- d ; not a roof, not a thread of smoke, not a sound. "I'm awful far away," Jonn whis-pered to herself, and. for the first time In her life, she doubted her strength. "I don't rightly know where I am." She looked back. There stood a high, familiar peak, but so were the outlines of these mountains Jumbled "YOU KILLED HIM" Joan Laiidls. eighteen yean old, wlfa of Pierre, is the daugh- ter ot John Carver, who murder' d her mother for adultery. Her lonely life, with her father. In a Wyoming cabin, unbearable, Joan leaves him to work in a hotel In a nearby town. Joan meets Pierre, and the two, mutually at-tracted, are married. Carver tells Pierre story of Joan's mother. Pierre forges a cattle brand. Frank Holllwell, young minister, presents books o Joan. Pierre forbids her to re id them. Mad-dened by Jealousy, Pierre ties Joan and burns the Two-B- ar brand Into her shoulder. Hear-ing her screams, a stranger bursts Into the house and shoots Pierre. The stranger revives Joan, telling her Pierre Is dead, urges her to go with him. At the stranger'a horn Joan's In-juries are attended to. She Is introduced to a ner world of books and fine clothing by the stranger. Prosper Gala, a writer. to the bearskin rug, and held out her hands to the flames. "It's awful good to be back," she said, and fell to sob-bing. "I didn't think you'd be corin' I was thlnkln' only of old things. 1 was homesick me that has no home." Her shaken voice was so wonderful a music that he stood listening with sudden tears In his eyes. "An' I can't ferget Pierre nor the life, Mr. Gael, an' when I think 'twas you that killed him, why, It breaks my heart. Oh, I know you hed to do It. I saw. An' I couldn't 'a stayed with him no more. What he did. It made me hate hlra but you can't be thlnkln how It was with Pierre an' me before that night. We we was happy. 1 ust to live with my father, Mr. Gael, an' he was an awful man, an' there was no lovln' between us, but when I first seen Pierre lookln' up at me, I first knowed what lovln' might be like. I Just came away with hlra because he asked me. Oh, Mr. Gael, I can't fer-get him, even for hatln'. That brand on my shoulder, It's all healed, but my heart's so hurted, It's bo hurted. You killed him.' Ferglve me, please; I would love you If I could, but some-thi- n' makes me shake away from you because Pierre's dead." Again she wept, exhausted, broken-hearted weeping It was. And Pros-pers face was drawn by pity of her. That story of her life and love, It wae and changed that she could not tell if Prosper's canyon lay north or south ot Pierre's homestead. The former was high up on the foothills, and Pierre's was well down, above the river. From where she stood, there was no river-be- d In sight. She tried to remember the Journey, but nothing came to her ex-cept a confused Impression of follow-lug- , following, following. Had they gone toward the river first and then turned north or had they traveled close to the base of the giant range? The ranger's cabin where they had spent the night, surely that ought to be vis-ible. If she went farther out, say beyond the wooded spur which shut the mountain country from her sight, perhaps she would find It. . . . Bravely she braced her quivering muscles and went on. She plunged Into drifts, struggled up; sometimes the snow-plan- e seemed to stand np like a wall In front of her, the far hills lolling like a dragon along Its top. She could not keep the breath of CHAPTER XII Ctntinued. 9 And then she opened har volume In Its middle and ber eye looked upon familiar lines "So the two brothers and, their mur-dered man" Joan's heart fell like a leaien weight and the color dropped from her face. In an Instant she was back in Pierre's room and the white night circled her In great silence and she was going over the story of her love an,! Pierre's their love, their beautiful, grave, simple love that had so filled her life. And now where was she? In the house of the man who had killed her husband! She had been waiting for Holllwell, but for a long whfce now she had forgotten that Why was she still here? A strange, guilty terror came with the question. She stared around the gorgeous little room, snug from the world, so secret In Its venter carwon. She heard Wen Ho's laces-- a sort of saga, something as moving as an old ballad most beautifully sung. The varied and vibrant ca-dences of her voice gave every delicate shading of feeling, of thought She was utterly expressive. All night, after he had seen her eat and sent her to her bed, the phrases of her music kept repeating themselves In hts ears. "An' so I first knowed what lovln' might be like"; and, "I would love you, only somethln' makes me shake away from you because Pierre's dead." This was a Joon he had not yet realized, and he knew thnt after all his enchanted leopardess was a woman and that his wooing of her had hardly yet begun. So did she baffle him by the utter directness of her benrt. There was o little of a barrier against him and yet there was so much. Fur the first time he doubted his wizardry, and, at that, his desire for the wild girl's love stood up like a giant and gripped his soul. .loan slept deeply, without dreams; she had confessed herself. But Prosper was as restless ond troubled as a youth. She hod not made her escape; she had followed him home with humll- - , Ity, with confusion In her eyes. She had been glad to hold out her hands again to the fire on his hearth. And yet he was now her prisoner. CHAPTER XIII sa'at pattering in the kitchen, the crunch and thud of Prosper's shovel-tn- g outside. It was suddenly a nor-rlbl- e nightmare, or less a nightmare than a dream, pleasant In the dream-ing, but hideous to an awakened mlad. She was awake. That little home-stead of Pierre's! Such a hungjr opened In her soul that she bent hr head and moaned. She could think f nothing now but those two famlllay, bftre, clean rooms Pierre's gui., Pierre's rod, her own coat there by the door, the snowshoes. There wa no place In her mind for the later" tragedy. She had gone back of It She would rather be alone In ber own home, desolate though It was, than anywhere else In all the homeless world. And what could prevent her from going? She Innghed aloud a short, defiant Inugh rippled to her feet, and, In her room, took ofT Prosper's "pretty things" and got Into her own old clothes; the eos.rse underwear, the heavy stockings and boots, the rough skirt, the man's shirt. How loosely they all hung! How thin she was! Now Into her coat, her woolen enp down over her ears, her gloves she was ready, her heart laboring like an exhausted slag's, her knees trembling, her wrists mysteriously absent She went Into the hall, found her snow-shoe- s, bent to tie them on, and, a v& straightening up, met Prosper, who had come In out of the snow, ne was glowing from exercise, but at sight of her and her pale excite-ment the glow left him and his face went bleak and grim. He put out bis hand and caught her by the arm and she backed from him against the wall this before elthpr of them spoke. "Where are yon going, Jonn?" "I'm home." He let go of her arm. "You were going like this, without a word to me?" "Mr. Gael," she panted, "I had a feelln' like yon wouldn't 'a let me go." He turned, threw open the door, and stepped nslde. &be confronted his white anger. "Mr. Gael. I left Pierre dead. I've been for Mr. Holllwell to come. I'm strong now. I must he home." Suddenly she blazed nut: "You killed my man. What hev I to do with vou?" Prosper Took Her by the Shoulder and Turned Her Over In the Snow. her lungs. Often she sank down and rested; when things grew steady she got up and worked on. Each time she rested she crouched longer; each time made slower progress; and al-ways the goal she had set herself, the end of a Jutting hill, thrust Itself out, nosed forward, sliding down to the plain. It began to darken, but Joan thought that her sight was falling. The enormous efforts she was making took every atom of her will. At last her muscles refused obedience, her laboring heart stopped. She stood a moment, swayed, fell, and this time she made no effort to rise. She had become a dark spot on the snow, a llfeness part of the loneliness and silence. A small, black, energetic figure came out from among the firs and ran Nerves and Intuition. "Mr. Gael," said Joan standing be-fore him at the breakfast-table- , "I'm to work." She was pale, gaunt and Imperturb-able. She announced this decision and sat down. "Woman's work?" he asked her, smiling quizzically. "No. sir." with her own rare smile; "I ain't rightly fitted for that." "Certainly not In those clothes," he murmured crossly, for she was dressed again In her own things. "I'm to do man's work. Fm to shovel snow an' help fetch wood nn' kerry In water. You tell your Chinese man. please." "And you're not going to read or study any more?" "Yes. sir. I like that. If you still want to teach me, Mr. Gael. But I'm I'm going to get some ac-tion. I'll Just die If I don't. Why. I'm so poor 1 can't hardly lift a broom. I don't know why I'm so miserably poor, Mr. Gael." She twisted her brows anxiously. "You've had a nervous breakdown." "A what?" "A nervous breakdown." He lit his cigarette and watched her In his usual lazy, smoke-veile- d man-ner, but she might have noticed the shaken fabric of his self nssurnnre, "Say, now," said Jonn. "what's the nnnie for?" "There's a book shout It over there third volume nn the top shelf look up your ene." With an air of profound alarm she went over nnd took It nut, I TO ''K ( OVTlVt'n ) He bowed. Her breast labored and all the distress of her soul, troubled by an Instinctive, lnartlcutafe con-sciousness of evil, wavered In her eyes. Her reason already accused her of In-gratitude and treachery, but every fiber of her had suddenly revolted. She was all for liberty, she must have It. He was wise, made no attempt to hold her, let her go; but, as she fled under the firs, her webs sinking deep Into the heavy, uncrusted snow, he stood and watched her keenly. He had not failed to notice the trembling of ber body, the quick lift and fall of her breast, the rapid flushing and paling of her face, lie let her go. And Jonn ran, drawing recklessly on the depleted store of what had always been her Inexhaustible strength. The snow was deep and soft, heavy with moisture, the Mareh air was moist, too, not keen with frost, and the green llri were softly dark against nn even. tone-r,- , lured sky of dniid. To Joan's eyi'H, so lung Imprisoned, It was all astonishingly beautiful, c!cau and forward where the longest shadows pointed. It looked absurdly tiny snd anxious; futile, In Its pigmy haste, across the exquisite stillness. Joan, lying so still, was acquiescent; this little striving thing rebelled. It came forward steadily, following Joan's un-even tracks, stamping them down firmly to make a solid path, and, as the sun dropped, leaving an Immense gleaming depth of sky, he came down snd bent over the black speck that was Joan. . . . Prosper took her by the shoulder and turned her over a little In the snow. Joan opened her ee and looked at him. It was the dumb look nf a hea'etl dog. "f;,.t op. child," he said, "and home v Hh me-- She struggled to her feet, he ,.t: and silently. Just r.a a Homan. no matter what her pahi. w'll follow her man, so Joan fol'iuw-- t truck he made by presving the v. down triply over her former s'ept "Cun you do It?" he asked oucu, and "I , )t 1 A ! universal custom AltCr that benefits every-- Fvprv body 7 ' Aids digestion, soothes the throat a good thing A to remember its Purity fra FLAVOR LASTS SAY "BAYER" when you buy-- tf Proved safe by millions and prescribed by physicians for. Colds Headache Neuritis Lumbago Pain Toothache Neuralgia Rheumatism 1091 JlAiPt 'leaver" rackaS? "HXJ44'VWr which contains proper directions. Handy "Bayer" boxes of 12 tablet. Also bottles of 24 nd 100 Druggist. Asairia Is tka tad atari ef Barer llaaataetare at MaaeaatlcscUitar at taller UcaeH $0 f Mothers!! 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Postum contains no stimulant to keep you awake nights. Sold by grocers everywhere! Postum for Health "Tlicre's a Reason" Yo- -r grocer sells Postum in two lormsi JpOST Tj Iruunt 1'cwtum in tins prepared in-- TFRAl' jSJN umly In the tup by the addiuon ol f!r-f,-T i""" - boiling water. PoMum Cereal (in paik- - r$il '" ge lor tiiow who preler the fljvor y r ti "- JS"J brought out by boiling lully 20 minute 'UT G The co ol either lorm i about one hill 'K5JW ' j Z Z. jS-- t PCSTUM ' cr.nt a cup. J Vtj: 1., Made by Ptum Cereal Co., Lie. '. S - - L Baule Creek. Muh. j ' 1 - W, N. U-- , Salt Lake City, No. 21 A farm breakfast Is abundant and appetizing, but nobody Is asked how j he likes his eggs cooked. man may not know when he Is 1A off, but his wife can always tell when he was well off. A Good Marksman. IUll Taylor was a particularly tail, thin person; In fact, certain of his) friends referred to him as "Bones." One night a number of his Jolly ac-quaintances Joined him In a party. In an unguarded moment one of thera drew a revolver. It became accidental-ly discharged, and the bullet struck Taylor In the leg. Terrified, the owner of the weapon hastened to the house of the nearest doctor, "I have Just shot BUI Taylor In the leg!" he exclaimed. "Come quick I" But the doctor paused on the threshold, viewing the tnun with ad-miring eyes, "You mean to say that you actuully shot BUI Taylor in the legr "Yes." "Then all I have to say Is that It was a mighty good shot," was the doo' tor's response, as he prepared to go to BUI. 1'hlludelphla Ledger. NATIVES ARE" TOO POLITE Papuan Unable to Carry Friend Acrosa Kills Him Because Ha Did Not Wish to Be Rude. Related to the weakness, which in-duces the Papuun native to lie In order to humor the Europeun Is the courtesy which he often displays on the most unexpected occuslons. You may tell the suine story two or three times to a Papuan, but be will laugh Just as heartily or express Just the same astonishment the lust time as the first. No hlut will escape him that he has heard the story before. And even In the crimes which he not Infrequently commits mostly crimes of violence he is not always forgetful of the rules of politeness. "lie wanted me to curry hlin across the water," said a prisoner who was charged with murdering another nu- - tlve whom he had met and done to death on the bunk of a river, "but he looked very heavy. Of course I could not be so rude as to refuse to curry him, so I thought thut the best way out of the difficulty was to kill him." Courteous, too, was the explanation given to me by seme natives of the mountains Inland of Ittgo, who were charged with attacking a police putrol. "We hod never seen nollcenien before." they said, "und we did not know what they were. If we hud thought for a moment," they added, "thut you at-tached any Importance to these per-sons, we certainly would not have thrown spenrs at them, we did not think that they were any good." Steud's Review, Melbourne. Only a True. Dr. W. R. Bishop, In fcls "My Moor land Patients," tells the story of tw Yorkshire brothers, John and Wil-liam, who quarreled one day, and though they lived within a stone's throw of each other vowed never to speak to each other again. They kept their unpleasant vow for forty years, till one day John fell 111 and on his, deathbed sent for his brother. Wil-liam, full of remorse, went to him and they spent the dying mun's last hours talking nf old times. When William rose sadly to go John sat up In bed und called after him, "Mind, William, If I get better, all this is for nowt I" The Concubines. Bishop Evans Tyree said In a Nash-ville address : "How Innocent are children's minds! A school teacher asked her class one day what Solomon was ioted for. She expected to be told that he was noted for his wisdom, but a little chap held up his hand and said: "'Kindness to animals.' "'Kindness to unlmuls?' said the teacher, puzzled. 'How do you make that out, my dear?' "'The Bible says,' explained the lit-tle boy, 'that Solomon kept a thousand porcupines.' " Shackles of Gold. "I do not envy great riches," r marked Senator Sorghum. "Why not?" "In so many cases they give a mnn the nucleus of a magnificent campaign fund, and yet by their very presence prevent him from taking the benefit of it." Washington Star. Observant. "She was married In the same church where three ceremonies had ben previously performed for her?" "Yes." "A familiar environment, eh?" ''Quite. She even noticed that a tear In the altar carpet hadn't been mended since her last trip." Birming-ham Age-Heral- Girls and Dolls. Give a little girl one doll and she develops affect Ion; give her ten and she becomes ulinost entirely admin-istrative. The man who said that two can live as cheaply as one never had to reckon with milliners and dressmakers. Not to Her Ltklrg. m.i low was the yachting purt ? V:!r-r!e- So-so- . There were so li;:,r.v o'i hoard 'tie t the best Char--j le could do ua to hug tL s'uura. |