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Show BRANDING f&k Cy Katharine 77 I ul J me your name. Haven't yon an curiosity Rbont me?" "Yes," wild Joan; Tve thought great deal about you." She wrinkled her wide brows. "You must have been out after game, though 'twas out of Reason. And you must have heard me a-cryln' out an come In. That was right courageous, stranger. I would surely like you to know why I eome away with you," she went on. wistful and weak, "but I don't know as how I can make It plain to you." She paused, turning the blue Jar In her hand. "You're very strange to me," she said, "an' yet, someways, you. takln care of me so well an' so so awful kind" her voice gave forth Its tremolo of feeling "seems like I knowed you better than any other person per-son In the world." A flush came into his face. "I wouldn't like vou to be think- COPY BIGHT m KATHARINE NEW LIN lll'BT. 1 . SYNOPSIS Joan Landls, eighteen years 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 leaves him to work In a hotel In a nearby town. Joan meets Pierre, and the two, mutually mutu-ally attracted, are married. Carver Carv-er tella Plerra atory of Joan'i mother. Pierre forgea a cattle brand. Frank Holllwell, young minister, presents books to Joan. Pierre forbids her to read them. Maddened by Jealousy, Pierre ties Joan and burns the Two-Bar brand Into her shoulder. Hearing Hear-ing her screams, a stranger bursts Into the house and shoots Pierre. CHAPTER IX 6 Dried Rose-Leaves. The house that Prosper Gael had built for himself and for the woman whom Joan came to think of as the "tail child," stood In a canyon, a deep, secret fold of the hills, where a cliff stood behind It, and where the pine-needled pine-needled ground descended before Its door, under the far-flung, ereenlsh- lhe men took her up and carried her Into the house, where they dressed her wound and laid her with all possible gentleness In one of the two beds of stripped and lacquered pine that stood In the bedroom facing the lake. Afterward they moved the other bed and Prosper went In to his meal. He was too tired to eat. Soon he pushed his plate away, turned his chair to face the fire, and, slipping down to the middle of his spine, stuck out his lean, long legs, locked his hands back of his head, let his chin fall, and stared into the flames. Wen Ho removed fhe dishes, glancing glanc-ing often at his master. "You velly tired?" he questioned softly. "It was something of a pull In the 610." "Velly small deer," bnbbled the Chinaman, "velly big lady." Prosper smiled a queer smile that sucked In and down the corners of his mouth. "She come after all?" asked Wen Ho. Prosper's smile disappeared; he opened his eyes nrfd turned a wicked, gleaming look upon his man. What with the white face and drawn mouth the look wns rntlier terrible. Wen Ho In'" She stopped, a little breathless. He took the Jar, sat down on the bed, and laid a hand firmly over both of hers. "I 'won't be thinking anything," any-thing," he said, "only what you would like me to think. Listen when a man finds a wounded bird out In the winter win-ter woods, he'll bring It home to care for it. And he 'won't be thinking' the worse of Its helplessness and tame-ness. tame-ness. Of course I know but tell me your name, please 1" "Joan Landls." At the name, given painfully, Joan drew a weighted breath, another, then, pushing herself up as though oppressed beyond endurance, she caught at Prosper's arm, clenched her fingers upon It, and bent her black head In a terrible paroxysm of grief. It was like a tempest. Prosper thought of storm-driven, storm-driven, rain-wet trees wild In a wind ... of music, the prelude to "Flle-gende "Flle-gende Hollander." Jonn's weeping bent and rorked her. He put his arm about her, tried to soothe her. At her cry of "Pierre! Pierre!" he whitened, but suddenly she broke from him and threw herself back amongst the pillows. pil-lows. "Twns you that killed him," she moaned. "What hev I to do with vou?" It was not the last time thnt bitter exclamation was to rise between them ; more and more fiercely It came to wring his pence and hers. This time he bore It with a certain philosophy, calmed her patiently. "How could I help It, Jonn?" he pleaded. "You saw how It was?" As she grew quieter, he tnlked. "I heard you scream like a person being tortured tor-tured to death twice a grewsomw enough sound, let me tell you, to hear In the dead of a white, still night. I didn't altogether want to break Into your house. I've heard some ugly stories about men venturing to disturb dis-turb the work of murderers. But, you see, Jonn, I've a fear of myself. I've a cruel brain. I can use It on my own failures. I've been through some self- vanished with an Increase of speed nnd silence. Alone, Prosper twisted himself In his clmir till his herd rested on his anus. It was no relaxation of weariness or grief, but an attitude of cramped pain. His face, too, was cramped when, a motionless hour later, he lifted It again. He got up then, broken with weariness, and went softly across the matted hall Into the room where Joan slept, and he stood beside her bed. A glow from the stove, and the light shining through the door, dimly Illumined Illu-mined her. She was sleeping very quietly now; the flush of fever had left her face nnd It wns clear of pain, quite simple and sad. Prosper looked at her and looked about the room as though he felt what he saw to'be a dream. He put his hand on one long strand of Jonn's black hair. "Poor child !" he said. "Good child 1" And went out softly, shutting the door. In the bedroom where Jonn came again to altered consciousness of life, there flood n blue china Jar of potpourri, pot-pourri, rose-leaves dried nnd spiced till brown shade of fir boughs, to the Hp of a green lake. In January, the lake was a glare of snow, In which the big firs stood deep, their branches hegvily weighted. Prosper had dug a tunnel from his door through a big drift which touched his eaves. It wns curious to see Wen IIo come pottering out of this northern cave, his yellow, Oriental face and slant eyes peering past the stalactite Icicles as though they felt their own incongruity almost with a sort of terror. The Interior of the five-room house gave Just such an effect ef-fect of bizarre and extravagant contrast; con-trast; an effect, too, of luxury, though In truth It was furnished for the most part with stuffs and objects picked up at no very great expense In San Francisco Fran-cisco shops. Nevertheless, there was nothing tawdry and, here and there, something really precious. Draperies on the walls, furniture made by Wen Ho and Prosper, lacquered In black and red, brass and copper, bright pewter, pew-ter, gay chlnn, some fur rugs, a gorgeous gor-geous oriental lamp, bookcases with volumes of a sober richness, In fact the costliest nnd most laborious of Im- punishment no! of course, you don't understand all that. , . . Anyway, I come In, In great feor of my life, and saw whet I saw a woman tied up and devilishly tortured, a man gloating over her helplessness. Naturally, Natural-ly, before 1 spoke my mind, as a man was bound to speak It, under the pain nnd fury of such a spectacle, I got lifMK Ik r ports to this wilderness, small pnned, horizontal windows curtained In some heavy green-gold stuff which slipped along the black lacquered pole on rings of Jade; all these nnd a hundred other points of softly brilliant color gave to the living room a rare and striking look, while the bedrooms were matted, daintily furnished, carefully care-fully appointed as for a bride. Much ftiought nnd trouble, much detailed labor, la-bor, had gone to the making of this odd nest In a Wyoming canyon. Whatever What-ever one must think of Prosper Gael, It Is difficult to shirk heartache on his account. A nmn of his temperament does not lightly undertake even a companioned com-panioned Isolation In a winter land. To picture what place of torment this well-appointed cabin was to him before he brought to It Jonn, ns a lonely man brings In a wounded bird to nurse nnd cherish, stretches the fancy on a rack of vurled pulnfulness. On that night, snow wns pouring Itself It-self down the narrow ennyon In a crowded whirl of dry, clean flukes. Wen Ho, watchful, for his master was already a day or so beyond the promised prom-ised date of his return, stopped rubbing rub-bing his hands. He hud heard the packing of Rnow under webs nnd runners. run-ners. After listening a moment, he nodded to himself, like a figure In a pantomime, ran Into the kitchen, did something to the stove, then lighted a ready , to defend myself. Your Pierre" there was a biting contempt lu his tone "saw my gesture, whipped out his gun, and fired. My tdiot was half a second later than his. I might more readily have lost my life than taken his. If lie bad lived, Joan, could you have forgiven him?" "No," sobbed Jonn; "I think nt.w She trembled. "He suld terrible hard words to me. He didn't love me like I loved him. He planned to put a brand on me so'sI e'd be his own like ns If I wns a beast belongln' to him. Mr. Holllwe'.: said right, I don't belong be-long to no man. I belong to my own self." The storm bad passed Into this troubled after-tossing of thought. "Can you tell me about It nil?" asked Prosper. "Would It help?" "I couldn't," she moaned; "no, I couldn't. Only If 1 hadn't 'a' left Pierre n-lyln" there alone. A dog that had onct loved him wouldn't 'a' done thnt." She sat up nguln, white and wild. "That's why 1 must go back. I must surely go. I must 1 Oh, I must !" "o buck thirty miles through wet snow when you can't walk across the room, Joan?" He smiled pityingly. "Can't you go back?" She turned desolate, haunted eyes upon him. "Oh, can't you? to do some kindness to him? Can you ever stop thlnkin' of him lyln' there?" Prosper s nice wns nurd tnrougn its gentleness. "I've seen too trmny deiid men, less deserving of deuth. But, hush ! you lie down nnd go to sleep, I'll try to munnge It. I'll try to get bnck und t-Wow him some kindness, ns you suy. There 1 Will you be a good girl now?" She fell bnck and her eyes shone their gratitude upon him. "Oh, you are good!" she suld. "When I'm well I'll work for you !" lie shook his head, smiled, kissed her hnnd, and went out. She wns entirely exhausted by her emotion, so that all her memories fell away from her and left her In a peaceful peace-ful blnnkness. She trusted Prosper's word. With every Huer of her henrt she trusted him, as simply, as singly, as a child trusts find. (TO EE CONTINUED.) luntern and pattered out along the tunnel, dodging the icicle stalactites. Between the firs he stopped and held the lantern high so that It touched a moving rndlus of flakes to silver stars. Bnck cf him through the open door streamed the glow of lump and fire filling the Icicles with blood and flushing flush-ing the walls nnd the roof of the cave, Down the canyon Prosper shouted, "Wen IIo! Wen Ho!" The Chinaman plunged down the trail, packed below the new-fallen snow by frequent passage, and presently pres-ently met the bent figure of his muster mus-ter pulling and breathing hnrd. Wlth-out Wlth-out speaking, Wen Ho laid hold of the sled rope and together the two men tugged up the last steep bit of the hill. "Velly heavy load." said Wen. Prosper's eyes, gleaming below the visor of his cap, smiled hHlf-mallelous-ly upon him. "It's a deer killed out of season," h suld, "and other cattle-no cattle-no maverick, either fairly marked by Its owner. Lena me a hand and we'll unload." Wen showed no astonishment. He removed the covering and peeped slantwise at the strange woman who stared at him unscelngly with large, bright eyes. She losed them, frowning frown-ing faintly as though she protested sgalnst the Intrusion of a Chinese face Into her 4Uturtd mental world. She Was Lying Quietly With Closed Eyes. they stored all the richness of a southern summer. Jonn's first question, strangely enough, was drawn from her by the persistence of this vague nnd pungent sweetness. She was lying quietly with closed eyes, Prosper looking down at her, his finger on her even pulse, when, without with-out opening her long lids, she asked, "What smells so good?" Prosper started, drew away his fingers, fin-gers, then answered, smiling, "It's a Jar of dried rose-leaves. Walt a moment, mo-ment, I'll let you hold It." He took the Jnr from the window sill and carried It to her. She looked at It, took It In her hands, and when he removed the lid, she stirred the leaves curiously with her long forefinger. "I never seen roses," she said, and added, "What's basil?". Prosper was startled. For an In-stunt In-stunt all his suppositions ns to Joan were disturbed. "Basil? Where did you ever hour of basil?" "Isabella and Lorenzo." murmured Jonn, and her eyes darkened with her memories. prosper found his henrt beating faster thun usual. "Who ore you, you strange creature? I think it's time you |