Thrilling Story

I. Written for The Reguteh. The moon is shining down upon the yellow sands that have bleached all day under a glaring June s-ua. Il lights the rugged peaks of the San Jacintos, anc touches the narrow window-panes in a rude desert house which stands alone under the shadows of the mountains. The low, sloping roof projecting beyond the front wall, forms a shade for the veranda, where a girl is standing with her arm around one of the rough pillars, talkiag with a group of men on horseback. You could uot possibly mistake Marjorie West for one of the desert women. 8he is too well dressed for tbat, and hasn't seen enough ol camp life to be worn and jaded. Indeed, this is ouly lier second week in the desert. Her brother Dick, one of the group, holds a revolver in his hand, and is saying to her "This is asure shot. Never known to fail. When you have killed your first coyote it shall be yours." " I won't promise. But I kno w what I will do. Fll barricade every door and window in that house to the best of my ability. And I'll keep that revolver under my pillow for Iarger prey thau coyotes." "I can assure you there won't be any. Nothing better than coyotes around here. But should you be fortúnate enough to find something worth while, be sure of your aim." "I'llbe so deeply buried in furniture, thank you, that no one could ever find me. When you come back you must dig me a burrow underneath the hou?e, and I'll hide in it and He dormant when you go way." " Capital I" "And for my heroism in staying here alone, and my self denial in giving up that coveted trip to the Mine, my reward shall be a bundred shares in The Oakdale Asbestos Mine." "Agreed," say the three horsemen together. "Goodbye! kill your coyote!" cries her brother. The three men wave their hats in the vivid moonlight, and calling back laughing remark8 to the girl who watches them, they turn their horses, single file, into the west mountain trail. Dick West and his two friends are going up tothe mountains to sink a shaft, so that they may establish their claim to a recently discovered asbestos mine. They will camp in the mountains. and intend to return the second night. His companions are a ranchman from the camp, three miles farther down, and his old college chum, Frank Gray, who has come to the desert hoping to regain his health, but is gradually losingground. He has invested every cent in the yellow sand, whioh it was thought would rise with the boom in California lands, and has lost every cent of it " I would leave this place in less than half a minute," Dick West had said to Marjorie, "but I can't let Frank see it out alone. I'm afraid ít's only a question of time with him now, too. But he's so confoundedly proud he won't let me send him to San Lucero which everyone recommends. I tried my level best to get him up there, but it was like moving a mountain. 'Icould never pay you ' he said, ' and I won't run into debtl' " It was seldom that Frank Gray went out with the surveying parties now. He found it next to impossible to turn night into day, as the desert dwellers always do. For the days in the desert are intolerable, and those who are obliged to labor choose the nights, and epend the days in rest. From the time that Frank Gray had come home with her brother to spend the Christmas vacation and had cailed her " Miss Marjorie," and had made provoking Dick stop his teasing, he has been Marjorie's hero. It was 8ix years now siuce she had seen him, and in the meantime she had grown into a young lady. She had seen so much of society that she was blasé; and when Dick's earnest invitation or rather supplication to make them a visit had come, she was only too glad to drop the gaiety of city, for the dull aod untried lite of the desert. She had wondered if she should find Mr. Gray as mnch changed as she knew she was. Her glass told her that six years had made the uncertain grayish tint of her hair a dark brown, and erased the frecklee, but left the red on the cheeks. Her eyes she admitted always would be sauoy; nothing ever could chBnge them ; but she hoped her mouth would eupply the desired dignity. Our ideáis are likely likely to fade with their years, but it was not so with Marjoiie; she had not been in camp an hour before she feit tbat her childish admiration was trebly intensified and that ehe would 1ot6 to distraction. She knew Frank Gray's nature as well as her brother did, and that his pride, if nothing else, would prevent him from offering himself to any girl with a fortune. She would wait for the opportunity to show him by some act of her owd, that she valued her money,- no, her life,- only in so far as it was useful to him. To her Frank Gray was deferential and kind ; but he feit that in h8 miserable circumstances and with h8 poor health he had no right to think of marriage. So he crushed the love that he would have offered her, and would not ask to be more than a f riend. II. When the figures on the trail have become too dim to be distinguished, Marjorie goee into the LouBe, and with the aid ot the o!d ludían womaii who is to be her companion at night, begins the work of barricading. Sie laughs when i-he sees the futile püe that all her bousehold effect make when piled against the door'; a table, a few chairs, long settee, - all of hom manufacture - her trunks and tin pans and pailg in every available nook and corner of the whole. " At all events we'll know if our visit ors come ia by the front door, and can c;ive them a warui welcome," says Marjorie. When at last the lights are out, the dismal sereecbinir of the owli begins, which Jean Ingelow describes as "two notes of musió tied together with a groan," but the bowling of the coyotee, that come cearer and nearer, is beyond description. It does not seem to affect Marj jrie's companion, for she bas hardly laiu down on her mat tefore she is snoring loudly. Aftersuehaslistened to these noiseshours and hours, as it seema to he-, Marjorie thinksshe will try for the revolver after all; she goes cautioualy to the windowg, raises her arms, aims and when the smoke has cleared away she sees her viotim stretched out on the sand. For the rest of the nipht the pack howl from a distance. Early in the morning the Indian is up, and has drawn the coyote under cover. Majrie makes her understand by pointing at the sun, and by many wild gegticulations, that the is to be back early, and shows how frightened she should be to etay there alone at night. The day wears into late afternoon, but it will uut be what is understood as night for some hours yet, and Haijorie determines to stretch her lazy limbs aud togo on a littleexploritigexpeditioa of herown. She is eager to see something of the country about here, for Dick and Frank Gray have assured her Ihat it will be a revelation ter the yellow saixls. "And you expect me to believe that, when you take such excellent care that I shall nol see it. Palms ! waterfalls! ferns! I don't suppose there is anything but sand within five hundred miles of us." "Just wak till this asbestos business is done and we'll show you a thing or two." So she starts out and takes the trail as she has seen her brother and his rienda do. She tollows it carefully as it gradually ascends the mountain and then suddenly takes a turn into the valley below. All aloug the trail isentirely mountainous and unvaried. She is busy with her thoughts aad does not realïze how far behind she has left ihe level sands. Now the path begins to take on decided tigns ot green, perhaps there are reelly palms and ferns beyund, and like a child following a butterfly she is impelled unconciou!.ly farther, and farther down; deeper and stiil deeper into the valley she follows the trail. A brake appears here, and a palm there. Now ihey are of less stunted growth. Suddenly she finds herself facing the bare wall of a peak which threateus to bar her way. The trail takes au abrupt turn. It leads her into a most luxuriously dense growth of ferns. On a Hule farther still she goes with the trail, but she wouders a litlle at the dimness. She begins to thiuk of going back. "This is charming, but 111 lose the trail, [ suppose, if night should fa.Il. I don't Buppose Dick will bel;eve me when I uli liin where I've been. I must have soine wituesses." Sbe bends over to piek some smallfern?. Ser greed aereases - she sees anotber ust a Iittle farther on that she must have - and then another, and still another. But what is that which catches her eye among the brakes? She moves on thhikng it may be a flower. Sue loops and picka it up. It is a man's handkerchief. Now the feels that she is watched and ler eyes follow the direetion of the glance bat holds her. There not far Irom her ies a man upon his back gazing flxedly at ïer. He does not epeak. Her first im)ulse is to turn and flee, but she seems to )e riveted to the spot. She stands and ;azes, but surprise and fear have blurred ïer eyes. It is sostrangeto ünd a man being in this place. All thie time he has not moved or ptirred. Aíarjorie has reoovered from her anic. She realizes with quick intuition hat she has nothing to fear. She starts o turn away ; but is it so ? Does a terriied look come into those eyes ? A beeching look 1 She turns baok again. She walks to the man aad still he neither btirs or speaks. He is - he must be too sick to move. She bends over him; in the dim light she hashardly discerned his features - and, can ic be ? She looks closer. It ís Frank Grray! What can this mean ? Where are her rother and his friende? How does he íappen to be lying here ? She does not cry out. She whispets to him that she will not leave him, and asks the good God o be with both his children, and thanks him that he has sent her. She chafes the hands and forehead that are deadly cold. The eyes close and although she begsand cali j he does not open hem again. [to be continded.]