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    I read on to the end. Then I shut the book and looked up again. Delane sat silent, his great hands clasping the arms of his chair, his head slightly sunk on his breast. His lids were dropped, as I imagined reverentially. My own heart was beating with a religious emotion; I had


    I blanched. All around me I seemed to feel an atmosphere of evil, subtle and menacing. A horrible thought flashed across me. Supposing I were the next?

    “Divilment” ses I brideling “shure its a swate family they be. Its ashamed I am to heer you spaking langwidge aginst an innersint and luvly family like the Wolleys.”

    "Very well, Felix. Miller, hold your squad where it is. Disperse them well, and wait my order before bringing them into the ditch. Confirm."

    “No; because I was there. Oh yes; there was often question of you. Mamma has a little picture of you as you were when you were taken away. It always hangs in her room; and when I had to be scolded, she used to apostrophise you. She used to say, ‘That little angel would never have done so-and-so.{v1-208}’ I did, for I was a little demon; so I rather hated you. She will send for you now; and I wonder if you will be a little angel still. I should like to see how you get on. But I shall be fully occupied here driving people to church, and making things pleasant for the old soldier’s youngest son.”

    Somewhat later, in another part of the city, I had an opportunity to listen to another of these street preachers. In this case he was a young man, apparently fresh from college, and he was making a very genuine effort, as it seemed to me, to reach and influence in a practical way the people whom the lights of the torches and the music had attracted to the

    “Perhaps he had more than you think. Let me keep the book a moment longer, and read you something from it.”

    "When you get there," said Magnan, "I hope you'll make it quite clear that this matter is to be settled without violence."


    Great nodded soberly. "And now I must go. They've almost finished the count-down, as one of my technicians keeps on calling it. Very pleased to have met you, Miss Grayling—I'll check with our PR man on that interview. Be seeing you, Savvy."

    “See for yersilf” ses I, biling over wid rage. Company indade on Winsdy, wid the tale ind of the ironing to finish, and seeds to be planted in the gardin.


    This statement probably is not true. It may have originated from the fact that Stegall and some of his friends rode to Russellville for the purpose of killing the women should they be acquitted. Discovering Stegall’s motive, Stewart put the Harpe women back in jail, pretending “it would never do to turn such characters loose upon society,” but the next night he hid them in a cave about five miles from town and thus shielded

    That braved Platæa’s battle storm.”

    which has been one of our little ornamental weaknesses in the past. That has, I know, kept a very considerable number of intelligent professional men from inquiring further into Socialist theories and teachings. As a consequence there are, especially in the medical profession, quite a number of unconscious Socialists, men, often with a far clearer grip upon the central ideas of Socialism than many of its professed exponents, who have worked out these ideas for themselves, and are incredulous to hear them called Socialistic.

    "There is a little something further," said Retief, sitting solidly in his chair. "What's the Corps going to do about the Aga Kagans?"


    THE END.

    But rounding the upper turn Duane shook him off and entered the stretch an open length and a half in front. Again a great shout went up from the backers of the peerless brown stallion as they saw his move, and again as the sound reached Boston it seemed to lend him wings. Running true and straight as a bullet flies, without touch of whip, the whitefaced son of Timoleon began to devour the space that separated him from his antagonist, and as they passed the stand at the end of the second mile his white nose was at Duane’s hip. Going around the lower turn the boys again took easy pulls on their horses, and in this position they go up the stretch and around the upper turn, Boston holding his place with the tenacity of a bull dog. But the white star of Duane is still in front as they swing into the stretch, and again his backers greet him with a cheer and again “old white nose” takes the compliment to himself and promptly, in response, he quickens his stride and again reaches Duane. Half-way down the stretch he collars him, and as they pass the stand his white nose is in front for the first time since starting on this last heat. It was now the time for Boston’s friends to cheer, and if pandemonium had broken loose more noise could not have been made. Men were simply wild with excitement. They danced about like children; hats, coats and canes were thrown into the air. Gilpatrick and I hugged each other and shouted ourselves hoarse, and, as the horses rounded the lower turn, the shouting increased, as it was seen that Boston, inspired by the shouting, no doubt, had kept up his killing stride and had taken the track from Duane. But to experienced riders like Gil and I this sudden change in position was rather a source of uneasiness. We both knew Hartman well. He was every inch a rider and a cool and skillful horseman, and we could see that he had taken a strong pull on his horse, saving him for the terrific finish he knew was yet to come. Knowing from our own experience in the saddle what was coming we paid no attention to the over-sanguine friends of Boston shouting: “Duane has quit!” “Duane has quit!” We knew the horse and we knew the rider, and we also knew that a race for life was coming and our fortunes were on the issue. So we anxiously watched them as they raced nose and tail, with Boston leading up the back side and around the upper turn.

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