The Man from the Bitter Roots

ll Goe

d inscribed his artistic signature upon the register; and as a consequence Peters, city editor of the Evening Dispatch, while glancing casually over the proofs

of the chief reasons why he occupied the particular chair in which he sat was because he had a memory like a

-explored, that was more like it! Ah, now he remembered-Sprudell was a hero. Two "sticks" i

hallucinations regarding such members of his staff as he saw at leisure, but thought again, as he had often thought before, t

Dunbar to

frequently he found himself gripping the chair arm to prevent himself from rising when she entered; and in his secret soul he knew that he looked out of the window to note

ent fo

t be a story in him. He saved somebody's life out West-his guide's, as I recall it. Noble-hero story-

tic of her not to ask questions, which was one of th

nt on it." Mr. Peters waited exp

n, sparkling smile changed her face like some wizard's magic from that of a sober young woma

d back to childhood by the youthfulness of their spirit. For a minute, or perhaps a second merely, the observer receives

noticed it often, and as a student of physiognomy he had found the transformation so fascinating that he had not only watched for it but sometimes endeavored to provoke it.

t a desk in the sitting-room of his suite in the Hotel Strathmor

ty, colloquial style wh

ots, and a cinch to save," he was writing,

owled at the uni

s Miss Dunbar's, of

h yes, of course!" For a second, an instant merely,

ut." His tone was bored. "Tel

losed, he walke

rom a glass of water to squeeze them dry on a towel. While he adjusted his boutonnière, he gazed at his smiling image and twisted his neck to look for wrinkles in hi

e parlor. Mr. Sprudell's genial countenance

s this dapper, middle-aged beau exactly the man she had pictured as

ar young lady?" Mr. Sprudell drew

you, you know," sh

hed brow. "I cannot imagine--" He was thinkin

l us something of your

ch o

e last

" Mr. Sprudell laughed inconsequently. "

han that." She lo

vered that she had e

Mr. Sprudell closed a hand and regarded the polished nails mode

orth telling will never talk," declared Mi

th a gesture of depreciation, "how a man feels to seem

low and pleasant her voice was. She felt that she did understand perfectly-she had a notion that nothing short o

gs, printed, that I think stories of self-sacrifice and brave deeds like yours

Establishes standards of conduct, raises high ideals in the mind of the reader. Of c

ust take of it," insis

iew-him-justice. A hint of his interesting personality would make an effective preface, he

ere the peaks pierce the blue-

Dunbar felt

e business-like question and t

backed up and

n nature's heart, and lay at night watching the cold stars shivering in their firmament." That was good! Mr. Sprudell wondered if it was original or

Miss Dunbar prosaically. "How

Sprudell's face. It would have been far better if they had sent

ncle Bill they call him-was my guide, and we were-le

ly in a newspaper we must have facts. Besides"-she glanced at the wrist watch beneath the frill of her coat sleev

folded his oratorical p

to the last desperate struggle through the snowdrifts in the paralyzing cold of forty below, with poor old Uncle Bill Griswold on his back, he told the story graphically, with great minuteness of detail. And when divine Providence led him

thought that through her he was talking to an audience of at least two hundred thousand people, he forgot the caution which was alw

ing of his own feeling of shock. In imagination she could see the big, silent, black-browed miner cooking, baking, deftly doing a woman's

d they

r pancakes, and wound up

ed incre

he sai

was the br

ed, not t

Bruce

man he

ed him Sli

m look at her in wonder. "Naudain!

was his g

she whisper

tared at h

The name is t

t under

y mother was married twice. It is too dreadful!

oo, but he seemed more

aid, reassuringly. "When d

him in Silver City, New Mexico, where we were told he was working in a mine. Perhap

l's face, but the girl did not see them, for her downcast eyes were fill

known; you will agree when I tell you that my object in coming East was to find you and your mother for the purpose of tur

dell," she continued with an effort, "but since my father and mother died he's been all I had. And I've made myself believe that at heart he was all right and that when he was older

replied s

aid his partner tho

old-blooded murderer like that would have turned over m

im," said

im her hand, "but, believe me, I do appreciate your disinterested kindness

h me this evening. I'll call for you if I may and bring the money and the letter and picture. From now on I

ed her brisk, alert step, her erect carriage, and the straight lines of the dark clothes she wore mightily became her slend

, which may have been his conscience, disturbed him. He would write furiously

ad committed himself to his friends, talked of it, promoted it partially, and they shared his enthusiasm. It was something which appealed intensely to the strong vein of sensationalism in him. What a pill it would be for his enemies to swallow if he went West and made another fortune! They m

s a hazy purpose in his head which, if it crystallized, would prove a most satisfactory way. Sprudell sat d