NORTH SHORE BREEZE 
Cowardice 
Co urt 
By 
GEORGE BARR M’CUTCHEON 
Copyright 1906. Dodd Mead & Co. 
[CONTINUED.] 
The ways of fortune are strange, 
look at them from any point of view. 
Surprising as it may seem, a like en- 
counter happened on the following day 
and—aye, on the day after and every 
day for a week or more. Occasions 
there were when Penelope was com- 
pelled to equivocate shamefully in or- 
der to escape the companionship of the 
duke, the count or others of their ilk. 
Once when the guardian of the road 
was late at his post she rode far into 
the enemy’s country, actually thrilled 
by the joy of adventure. When he ap- 
peared far down the road she turned 
and fied with all the sensations of a 
culprit, and he thundered after her 
with vindictiveness that deserved bet- 
ter results. Across the line she drew 
rein and faced him defiantly, her hair 
blown awry. her cheeks red, her eyes 
sparkling. 
“No trespass!’ she cried, holding up- 
her gloved hand. He stopped short, 
for that was one of the terms of truce. 
The next duy he again was missing, 
but she was not to be caught by his 
stratagem. Instead of venturing into 
the trap he had prepared for her, she 
remained on her side of the line, smil- 
ing at the thought of him in hiding far 
up the road If any one had suggested 
to her that she was developing too 
great an interest in this stalwart gen- 
tleman she would have laughed him to 
scorn It had not entered her mind ta 
question herself as to the pleasure she 
found in being near him She wags 
founding her actions on the basis that 
he was a real man and that the little 
comedy of adventure was quite worth 
while 
At length an impatient line appeared 
on ber fair brow, a resentful gleam 
in her eves His remissness was an 
immnartinanca' Jt was tho 
she would come—but a sudden thought 
struck her like a blow She turned 
white und red by turns. Had he tired 
of the sport? Had the novelty worn 
off? Was he laughing at her for a 
silly coquette? The riding crop came 
down sharply upon her. horse’s flank, 
and a very deeply agitated young wo- 
Mun galloped off toward Bazelhurst 
Villa, hurrying as though afraid he 
might catch sight of her in flight. 
A ouarter of a mile brought a change 
laat timo 
fn her emotions British stubbornness 
arose to combat an utter rout. After 
all, why should she run away from 
him? With whimsical bravado she 
turned off suddenly into the trail that 
led to the river, her color deepening 
with the consciousness that, after all, 
she was vaguely hoping she might see 
him somewhere before the morning 
passed. Through the leafy pathway 
she rode at a snail’s pace, brushing 
the low hanging leaves and twigs from 
about her head with something akin to 
petulance 
As she neared the river the neighing 
of a horse hard by caused her to sit 
erect with burning ears. Then she 
relapsed into a smile, remembering 
that it might have come from the 
game warden’s horse. A moment later 
her searching eyes caught sight of 
Shaw’s horse tied to a sapling and on 
Bazelhurst ground, many hundred feet 
from his own domain. She drew rein 
sharply and looked about in consider- 
able trepidation. Off to the right lay 
the log that divided the lands, but 
nowhere along the bank of the river 
eould she see the trespasser. Careful- 
ly she resumed her way, ever on the 
lookout, puzzled not a little by the 
unusual state of affairs. _ 
Near the river trail she came upon 
the man, but he paid no heed to her 
approach. He sat with his face in his 
hands, and—she could not believe her 
eyes and ears—he was sobbing bitter- 
ly. For an instant her lips curled in 
the smile of scornful triumph. and 
then something like disgust came over 
her. There was mockery in her voice 
ns she called out to him: 
“Have you stubbed your tee, little 
boy?” 
He looked up, dazed. Then he 
arose, turning his back while he dash- 
ed his hand across his eyes. When he 
glanced back at her he saw that she 
was smiling. But she also saw some- 
thing in his face that drove the smile 
away. Absolute rage gleamed in his 
eyes. 
“So it is real war?” he said hoarsely, 
his face quivering. “Your pitiful cow- 
ards want it to be real, do they? 
Well, that’s what it shall be, hang 
them! They shall have all they want 
of it. Look! This is their way of 
fighting, is it? Look!’ 
He pointed to his feet. Her bewil- 
dered eyes saw that his hand was 
bloody and a deathly sickness came 
over her. He was pointing to the out- 
stretched, inanimate form of the dog 
that had been his friend and comrade. 
She knew that the beast was dead 
and she knew that her brother’s threat 
had not been an idle one. A great 
wave of pity and horror swept over 
her. Moisture sprang to her eyes on 
the moment. 
“He—he is dead?” she exclaimed. 
“Yes; and killed by some cowardly 
brute whose neck I’d like to wring. 
That dog—my Bonaparte—who knew 
no feud, who did no wrong! Your 
brother wants war. does he? Well, ’ll 
give omm an — 
“But my brother could not have done 
a thing like this,” she cried, slipping 
CS 
“Accident! Don’t come near me.” 
from her saddle and advancing toward 
him quickly. “Oh, no, no! Not this! 
He is not that sort, I know. It must 
have been an accident and”’— 
“Accident! Don’t come near me! I 
mean it. God, my heart is too full of 
vengeance. Accident? Is this blood 
on my arm accidental? Bah! It was 
a deliberate attempt to murder_me!” 
“You—you, too?” she gasped, reeling. 
“Yes: they’ve winged me, too. Oh, 
God, if I only had been armed. There 
would have been a killing.” 
“Let me see, let me help you!” she 
cried, coming up to his side, white 
faced and terrified. “Il won’t stay 
away! You are hurt. Please, please. 
I am not your enemy.” 
For a long minute he held back, 
savagely resentful, glowering upon her; 
then his face softened and his hand 
went out to clasp hers, 
“T knew you had nothing to do with 
it. Forgive me—forgive my rudeness. 
Don’t be alarmed about me. Two or 
three scattered shot struck me in the 
arm. The fellow’s aim was bad when 
it came to me. But he—he got the dog! 
Poor old Bonaparte! It’s as if he were 
a—a brother, Miss Drake. I loved him 
and he loved me.” 
“You must let me see your arm. I 
will not take no for an answer. It 
must need attention”’— 
“Believe me, it is nothing. I have 
tiad mv handkerchief ahont it—two lit 
et Ree etree eR eR re 
Bia a tl Vie Ht we 
ee ee 
— 
PA's 
