GABRIEL CONROY. 
2 S 
“ They must have eaten it, — d — n ’em ! ” 
said Mrs. Brackett in a hoarse whisper. 
“ It didn’t look like suthin’ to eat,” said 
Dumphy. 
“You saw ’em take it from the fire ?” 
“Yes!” 
“And rub it?” 
“Yes!” 
“ Fool. Don’t you see — ” 
“What?” 
“ It was a baked potato.” 
Dumphy sat dumbfounded. 
“Why should they rub it — it takes off the 
cracklin’ skin ? ” he said. 
“They’ve got such fine stomachs!” an- 
swered Mrs. Brackett with an oath. 
Dumphy was still aghast with the impor- 
tance of his discovery. 
“He said he knew where there was 
more ! ” he whispered eagerly. 
“Where?” 
“ I didn’t get to hear.” 
“ Fool ! Why didn’t ye rush in and grip 
his throat until he told yer,” hissed Mrs. 
Brackett, in a tempest of baffled rage and 
disappointment. “Ye ain’t got the spunk 
of a flea. Let me git hold of that gal — 
Hush ! what’s that ? ” 
“ He’s moving ! ” said Dumphy. 
In an instant they had both changed 
again into slinking, crouching, baffled ani- 
mals, eager only for escape. Yet they dared 
not move. 
The old man had turned over, and his 
lips were moving in the mutterings of deli- 
rium. Presently he called “ Grace ! ” , 
With a sign of caution to her companion 
the woman leaned over him. 
“Yes, deary, I’m here.” 
“Tell him not to forget. Make him keep 
his promise. Ask him where it is buried ! ” 
“Yes, deary!” 
“ He’ll tell you. He knows ! ” 
“Yes, deary!” 
“At the head of Monument Canon. A 
hundred feet north of the lone pine. Dig 
two feet down below the surface of the 
cairn.” 
“Yes!” 
“Where the wolves can’t get it.” 
“Yes!” 
“ The stones keep it from ravenous 
beasts.” 
“ Yes, in course!” 
“ That might tear it up.” 
' “Yes!” 
“ Starving beasts ! ” 
“Yes, deary!” 
The fire of his wandering eyes went out 
suddenly fike a candle. His jaw dropped. 
He was dead. And over him the man and 
woman crouched in fearful joy, — looking at 
each other with the first smile that had been 
upon their lips since they had entered the 
fateful canon. 
CHAPTER III. 
GABRIEL. 
It was found the next morning, that the 
party was diminished by five. Philip Ashley 
and Grace Conroy, Peter Dumphy and Mrs. 
Brackett were missing ; Dr. Paul Devarges 
was dead. The death of the old man caused 
but little excitement and no sorrow ; the ab- 
sconding of the others was attributed to some 
information which they had selfishly with- 
held from the remaining ones, and produced 
a spasm of impotent rage. In five minutes 
their fury knew no bounds. The lives and 
property of the fugitives were instantly de- 
clared forfeit. Steps were taken — about 
twenty, I think — in the direction^ of their 
flight, but finally abandoned. 
Only one person knew that Philip and 
Grace had gone together — -Gabriel Conroy. 
On awakening early that morning he had 
found pinned to his blanket, a paper with 
these words in pencil : 
“ God bless dear brother and sister, and 
keep them until Philip and I come back with 
help.” 
With it were a few scraps of provisions, 
evidently saved by Grace from her scant 
rations, ‘and left as a parting gift. These 
Gabriel instantly turned into the common 
stock. 
Then he began to comfort the child. 
Added to his natural hopefulness he had a 
sympathetic instinct with the pains and pen- 
alties of childhood, not so much a quality 
of his intellect as of his nature. He had all 
the physical adaptabilities of a nurse — a 
large, tender touch, a low persuasive voice, 
pliant yet unhesitating limbs, and broad well- 
cushioned surfaces. During the weary jour- 
ney women had instinctively intrusted babies 
to his charge, most of the dead had died in 
his arms, all forms and conditions of help- 
lessness had availed themselves of his easy 
capacity. No one thought of thanking him. 
I do not think he ever expected it ; he al- 
ways appeared morally irresponsible and 
quite unconscious of his own importance, 
and, as is frequent in such cases, there was 
a tendency to accept his services at his own 
valuation. Nay more; there was a slight 
consciousness of superiority in those who 
